plotsignificanthaircut555

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

me as a writer

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Y’all I am so fucking touched that 200 of you have followed this silly little outlet for my horny yearnings. In just under nine months too! You guys are all so kind and complimentary, I’m so flattered to even be in y’all’s realm of interest, let alone so much support.

Thank you so much!

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

same, babe. this was born out of my ovulation haze, godspeed to us all.

Fever (Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac Choso x f!Reader)

SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

8k words. A curse with a strange and intimate defense mechanism has done something to Choso, with Shoko busy with more pressing matters, his healing becomes your soul responsibility. And like any good, young doctor, you're willing to do anything to help your patient. ao3

not, not made while listening to Disease by Lady Gaga.

Warnings: (This is a SEX POLLEN fic, which always carries a degree of dubious consent, I feel I have clarified a lot of of the grey-er areas, but if that is not your thing, this is your heads up, see you in the next one <3.) Sex, premature ejaculation, kissing, oral (f receiving), probably a lot of really dumb sounding attempts at medical jargon, smoking, discussions of ovulations/menstruating, Virginity loss (choso), BLOOD, some scent stuff, feelings and some stuff about conception. Choso is pretty pathetic, but i feel like you probably knew that.

When you woke up this morning, you could feel it. That dull, barely there ache in your lower back, telling you that your cycle was nearing. You weren’t the best at manually tracking your cycle but you had enough lived experience menstruating that you knew the sign posts. Brushing your hair and washing your face, you found your skin was smooth, any dullness you would have usually fussed over seemed to have righted themselves and been replaced with a bouncy, full glow.

When dressing, you found your breasts felt fuller, filling out the cups of your bra, almost to the point of spilling. They felt heavy, the lace pressing against your nipples for a sweet sting. Your hands stayed holding your breasts, tracing your areolas softly, sucking in a sensitive breath. A glance at the clock tells you there's no time for you to rub one out before you have to leave for work. But you feel a tingle of excitement knowing you’ll come home to your vibrator and whatever naughty media you can get your hand on. There’s supposed to be a new sexy, vampire show your friends hushedly told you about. Maybe tonight? You have a bottle of red you've been waiting to open, why the hell not! Some wine, maybe a long bath….your eyes travel to a candle on your nightstand. You can light candles for your own masturbation, right? Wow, you’re quite the romantic. 

The excitement of your evening of solo pleasure carries you through the rest of your morning routine. You pour yourself a coffee, you make sure to grab an umbrella, the forecast predicting rain for the next few days, and double back to plug in your favorite vibrator(s) before heading out. As expected, it's already drizzling, light grey clouds spilling their contents all over the city streets. The cool fall air wets your face, but you don't mind. You had gotten yourself a bit worked up inside, so it was nice to have something to bring you back down to reality. You still had a full work day ahead of you. Your walk to work was quick, a subway ride even quicker, the manager that met you with a car to carry you the rest of the way to Jujutsu Tech was punctual and polite. She was pretty new, a young woman, probably not even 25, but she was a great driver, and made a few jokes here and there that made the usually long drive feel clipped. Arriving at the school, you were quick to thank her and head inside. She was cute, you found yourself thinking as you turned away from the car. 

Young and funny, a sweet face, a good body, how old did she say she was again? 

Oh geez, whats going on with me? 

You shake the inappropriate thoughts from your head, and mark the doorframe as your own compartmentalization threshold. Within these walls you must remain an absolutely iron clad professional.There can be no mistaking it, no distractions, and no anticipation. Students pass quickly to their classes or from the breakfast lines, some wave or bow in greeting at your pass. You're quick to return their gestures. You make your ways down to the hospital floors, making a quick stop by the lounge to refill your coffee. The school grounds took on many purposes, education, training, treatment, triage, conference, protection, archival, morgue…etc. Your business primarily took place on the lowest levels, being the medical wing, the labs, and the morgue. You never had the chops to go into the field after your graduation from Jujutsu High School. Opting instead to apprentice under Shoko Ieri, the reverse cursed technique wunderkind, just two grade levels higher than you. The absolute chance of a lifetime. She was a terrible teacher, truly awful. Too genius to make her lessons practical. But thankfully you weren’t some talentless schmuck, you could hold your own against genius. You learned fast, were excellent with your hands, and eventually Shoko brought you in full time as her second in command. If she was the head of surgery, you were the school nurse. Where she was tasked with reviving fallen sorcerers and performing bizarre autopsies, you mostly reset broken fingers and administered stitches. 

This last year had not been kind to your practice. Far too many familiar faces meeting you in the chilly, sterile basement morgue. Shoko was taking on more and more…experimental (?)  projects. Ones with more weight, more stakes. Especially now. Which meant you held things down more and more. But once you reached the stainless steel double doors leading to the main hall of the medical wing, you knew she was here. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and the lilac perfume she swears covers it. The first exam room light was on, the door cracked, white light seemingly unbroken between the hallway and door frame. The light never changed down here, it was as steady as the tile, and just as cold. 

“Shoko?” You peeked around the cracked door. 

She was prepping the room; someone was coming in. Her words spilled immediately as though they had never had a beginning, she had simply always been talking. 

“Big one coming in. Associate Manager just called, they’re on their way back. Apparently it’s nothing broken or bleeding, but they couldn’t explain any more than that. Go figure.”

The possible orders of procedure began listing themselves in your brain. Shoko exited the room and you followed closely, her heels and yours clacking together in perfect time. 

“Choso, the half curse from Shibuya. Apparently something hit him, or bit him?” Shoko wasn’t often without the right information so her irritation was growing at every reminder, “whatever, we have his blood samples and the remaining curse womb death paintings, if—god forbid— anything serious needs to happen.” 

Viles clinked against one another as her gloved hand searched the refrigerated cabinet of samples taken from each sorcerer. You wondered whose blood was next to yours in there. 

“Can’t you just…fwoo?” You tried to imitate her stupid circle gesture she always made when trying, unsuccessfully, to get you to master reverse cursed technique. 

Shoko turned to face you, “well that’s just it, I won’t be here. I have to get back underground before anything changes. This is your pop quiz, okay?” 

Finally, the intensity dawns on you. You truly had no way to know what would be coming through those doors. A half second later, it dawns on you that none of the supplies she has been gathering are even for you! Every second you spoke was another second you lost to prepare, valuable seconds. 

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, quickly turning back to the labs, scanning your brain for relevant material to gather. Allergy lists, blood, most recent labs, gauze?? 

“I see you get it now, try and be a little faster if the guy’s dying, okay?” A cigarette has manifested between her lips as she heads down the hallway you had only just entered, “call me afterward and update. Bye!” 

And just like that she was gone, the doors swinging shut behind her, but you don’t see them zip up their seam. You are already turned away and heading back into the lab. Pulling anything potentially useful: pain relievers, antibacterial salves and ointments, gauze, anything you could think of. You didn’t know Choso all that well, but knowing sorcerers was a mixed bag anyway. It often felt the ones you did know, were the ones you lost. But he had been in and out plenty of times in the last month, rounds and rounds of testing with Shoko, with assistance by you. He was quiet, kind of emotional, but a great help to your cause. Not to mention he had been quite the looker. Dark, gloomy eyes, excellent bone structure, a body that looked carved in marble. You quickly chastised your body for wasting valuable seconds even thinking about anything except preparing to help save his life. 

 His strange position as both a half curse and a turn coat made him even harder to anticipate. His blood wouldn’t likely be the problem, as it is nearly entirely regenerative. How would that work for infection? Before you can wonder too much, the subject of your mystery arrives with his smaller, too grizzled looking younger brother in toe.

“I don’t know what happened! I’m really sorry, he looks like he’s going to faint. But he walked all the way here. He won’t let me touch him.” 

There was blood, but only streaming from the amorphous block shaped marking across his face. It was hard to tell what shape it had taken on, his face was so flushed. He was panting, the glowing blood spilling into the floor, seeping into this clothes, onto Yuji’s shoes. 

“It’s okay, Itadori. Did he get hit with something or by someone?” You kind of sheep dogged Choso towards the exam table with Yuji’s help, finally getting him to lie down, which caused him to ground and sit back up. 

“This big weird curse squirted some goo or some gas or something on him, but it looks like it sank in, I can’t see where it even hit him. Its was like POOF! And then like nothing! And then…” Yuji’s voice was high and shaking, he sounded every bit the child he was, it was easy to forget both how young he was, and how novice he was to the world of jujutsu. 

Choso groaned again, shifting uncomfortably, rolling onto him back and then his side. You watched the concern wash over his younger brother’s face all over again, big brown eyes unable to look away from his ailing brother. You placed a hand on the top of Yuji’s back. 

“Are you hurt at all?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You did a great job getting him here, Itadori. He’s in good hands, I promise you I’ll do my best to get him right as rain, okay?”

You weren’t completely sure, mystery curse-related ailments were more Shoko’s jurisdiction, but if she trusted you, then you must be more than capable!

“You should head back upstairs, get some rest. I’ll have someone bring you when he’s ready for visitors again, okay?” You have an easy, warm smile, hoping to soothe his anxieties. 

Whether it worked or not, you couldn’t tell. But Itadori nodded, and giving one last look to Choso, turned to head back upstairs. Looking back down at the writhing man on your exam table you weren’t sure how to start, it seemed like every muscle in his body was tensed. He had to relax before you could begin any kind of testing. He was too flushed, his blood pressure, even for him, must be skyrocketing. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Choso, do you know where you are, can you hear me?” 

He nods wearily, not uncurling from his core. 

“Choso, do you think you can sit up, for me?” You attempted, bringing your hands close to his back. 

“Don’t touch me!” He barks, heavy pants follow. He rolls completely onto his side away from you, groaning. You can see  the line of sweat drenching the back of his shirt, “I’m sorry, but-- please, please don’t touch me.” 

“Okay, can you try and sit up?  I have to assess you so we can figure out how to make it stop.”you urged.   

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t start to move, he stays still, fully tensed, desperate pants through gritted teeth. You watch the sweat bead up at the back of his neck, those beads begin to fall and merge together, falling under the collar of his shirt. You moved away from him, getting an instant ice pack from the refrigerator, breaking it, and feeling the cold spread across your hands. Returning to his back, you wrap the cold pack in a thin towel, taking in a breath. 

“Don’t.” He gasps out, “please, just hand it to me.” 

You were shocked he was still so aware of his surroundings. Against your wishes you passed him the cold pack, his hand snatches it from you without making any contact with you. You can barely see his face, but you see the muscle in his jaw pop as he pressed the cold pack to his forehead. 

“What are you feeling, Choso? I can't stop it if I don’t know.” You don’t mean to sound so irritated when you say it, you aren’t irritated, you’re worried. 

“Hot. Really hot.” He sighs, moving the cold pack to the side of his neck. 

“Okay, and did it start right after you made contact?”

“What?” 

“Yuji said a curse attacked you, it had some kind of defensive response, and it put you into this state? Do you have any idea what kind of curse it may have been?” You were gaining your confidence back, steeling yourself against the immediate shock that had set in since his arrival. You were a doctor for fuck’s sake. 

Choso nodded his head, “yes. Maybe? I don’t know, I blacked out. It was out of it for a few seconds and then Yuji was shaking me.” His breathing was starting to even out, maybe he was calming back down. 

“Okay, and that’s when the fever started?” You couldn’t yet place what the cause of the fever would be. Some kind of poison? Or venom? 

Choso nodded, another groan, pulling him further, prone on the table. He seemed to hate this position, choking out a gasp as he pushed himself up and sat up facing away from you.

“Choso if you’ll just let me take your vitals and a blood test I can probab—-“ you reached out and touched his shoulder. 

His body shivered, he let out a long, low moan. 

He didn’t have to tell you to not touch him, you pulled your hand back so fast you lamented your reflexes had never been so sharp and would never be again. 

He was frozen, you were frozen. You came back to yourself first. 

“I’m sorry, I know you sa—.” You started to panic ramble 

“You should go. Please go.” Choso’s hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went from tan to pink to white.   

This was too much, he needed help now, the cold pack had melted completely, faster than you had ever seen, no longer offering its menial relief.

“Choso, I’m your doctor, I can’t leave you. It’s my duty to help you. Please just be honest with me about what you’re feeling, and I can help. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.” You began to curve around the table to face him. 

His neck was red and wet, muscles straining underneath like angry snakes. He can’t meet your eyes, his mouth is open, panting to pull as much breath as possible, lips wet and drooly. You're too busy scanning his face to see the way he covers his lap with his hands as you approach. 

“Please, let me help.” You reach your hand out to touch him, even with your gloves on and inches away you can feel the heat radiating off his body. 

Finally, finally, he looks at you, urging his body upward into a sitting position. His pupils are huge, brown irises having been consumed by two large, desperate black holes. There are tears in his eyes, dripping into the blood on the bottom half of his face. 

“It hurts. It’s so hot, and everything is so tight and sensitive. I can feel…everything, so much, fuck, it hurts.” He pleads, finally crumbling under the agony. 

You nod and start to mentally run through treatments for the symptoms as he lays them out. Your main concern is his heart, it’s used to overproducing and pumping at will, but this isn’t at his will, and this isn’t in his routine. This is entirely unpredictable. You’re in your head when Choso stops talking, he watches you closely, the drool along his bottom lip starting to build into a drip. He watches you, as you think a million miles away from him, but so close. He isn't sure if you have ever been this close, you have checked in on him hundreds of times, helped him through his training, you have always been so kind to him, even with his…less than glowing personal history, brief as it was. He can smell your perfume, he had smelled it before, soft and light, but this was something different. It smelled so much stronger, sweet and full, enticing, hypnotic. 

“You smell different.” The words leave him before he can even think better of himself, and once he does the words can't stop, “Good. You smell good. Really good.”

He leans closer to you, pulled in by the smell coming from your neck. You don't stop when he comes closer, he doesn’t stop himself when he presses his nose against your neck and inhales. Your body goes completely taut, you can feel the tip of his nose on your neck, you aren’t sure what to do.

“C-choso?” 

One of his big hands moves your hair off your shoulder, then settles on your waist, he pulls you closer, inhaling at your neck again. His other hand finds your hip and pulls you in. 

“You smell so sweet.” he mumbles into your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin, “You feel so good.”

The blood from his face was slowing, the mark shaping itself back into a smaller line, you could feel his pulse slowing. The back of your mind flickered alive, a sneaking thought, something you had never imagined to be true, or to be presenting itself now. A defensive countermeasure some high ranking curses employ in order to redirect the attackers focus. Preying upon the most carnal needs, most commonly manifesting itself as prolonged, continuous sensitivity and sexual arousal. You had only ever read about it in the abstract, you never imagined it was something that was still active, let alone could manifest this intensely. Choso’s hands tighten on your hips. Your throat starts to tighten, you are paralyzed as to what to do, the ethics of helping and not helping racing through your mind.  

You press his shoulder, “Choso. Just a second, you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

He pulls back, suddenly, eyes wide with surprise, unsure of how he had found himself buried in your shoulder, how he had let himself succumb to whims that plagued his mind. He felt his throat closing, his heart racing, the heat in his body rising again faster than before. He felt pathetic, like some animal, some curse, that can’t control himself. And to you, who had been nothing but kind and accommodating with him since he first joined. He stands suddenly, putting as much distance between your bodies as he can. From your smell, from the feeling of your skin, from your soft hair between his fingers. 

“I-I’m, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, go.” He heaves out, “I don’t know if I can control myself.” 

“What you're experiencing is an apex aphrodisiac. It won’t end until it has been expelled from your body, which will probably happen over time. But I have no way of knowing how long the effects will last. It could be hours, Choso, days, even.” 

Some deep ache in his abdomen causes him to double, gripping against the counter top so hard you hear the laminate begin to split. 

“I can hook you up to an IV, keep you hydrated and locked in here until it passes, but there’s no guarantee you can last it. Your internal body temperature keeps rising, and without someone here to keep an eye on you, there’s no telling what that fever will do to your brain. Not to mention your heart.” 

He fights your eyes, glaring instead at his hands in front of him, hands that had been attached to you so recently. Hands that burned against any sensation that wasn’t you. He’s swelling between his legs again, it aches, it's hurting, it's dripping onto his leg. He could hear his molars creaking against one another as he grinds them in a desperate attempt for restraint. You approach so carefully, he doesn't notice you until you're close enough for him to smell that intoxicating aura again. His eyes flutter closed, relief beginning to spread through his body, strained muscles loosening just barely. 

“Or…” You stride forward so carefully, not wanting to scare the desperate, hurt animal caught in a trap in front of you, you see his shoulders slide down his back through the damp fabric of his shirt, “I can help you now.”

Choso’s head whips around so fast that the room spins. He worries that this fever may actually be cooking his brain. Surely there was no way you were actually proposing this, he had to be hallucinating. The arousal plaguing his body had finally taken over his mind and shifted  his reality to fit its sick fantasy.  

You nod at his shocked face, trying to stay as even and professional under the circumstances; God, as if there were any chance of that happening. 

“Choso, listen to me, from what I’ve read, the quickest way, and the only guaranteed way to find any kind of repose, is to…” You blush at your words, the impending reality starting to illuminate far too realistically to be called fantasy, “oh god, I don’t know how to say this. By briefly…succumbing… to the urges, it could rid your body of whatever lingering material is causing you to feel this way, or at least offer some alleviation while your body fights the infection. Like scratching an itch? You shouldn't, cause you may open the wound, but it helps you deal with the pain and discomfort.” 

A thousand thoughts pass between the two of you, nothing spoken. He studies you carefully, desperate for any sign of a practical joke, some ill timed faux solution at his expense. Part of him looked twice as desperately for any sign of attraction from you, something that would show him you have felt the same way as him. That you have wanted this, before it became…medically necessary. 

“You think having sex with you will make it stop?” He says bluntly. 

You blush furiously, feeling embarrassed for even saying it, “It may. But of course, it’s up to you. If you want the IV, we can wait it out, you don't have to decide now. If it’s…me I can-” 

“No!” He shakes his head furiously, “no, it’s not you. I mean it is! Fuck, I mean…”

He can barely think, let alone try and string together the way he feels and has felt. The feelings that he never dared to explore. 

“I didn’t want it like this.” He finally sighs out, resigning himself to a seated position on the floor. 

“You…?” You didn't get it yet. 

“I wanted this, you, but I never wanted it like this.” He presses his back hard against the wall, eyes pulled tight together, blood trickling onto the floor again. 

You got it then. You hadn’t known, never even thought that he would look at you like that, that he would hold feelings for you so privately. He had been so quiet, so brief, so polite. Your heart ached for him, he was so sweet, you had always thought so. Even as brief as his time here had been, you thought it was sweet how dedicated he seemed to fixing his mistakes, to training Yuji, to helping the cause. It had crossed your mind, recently even, how handsome he was. Seeing him in this state, entertaining the idea of fucking him, you found you were heating up, yourself. Your legs squeezing together as he lay before you, so desperate for you. 

“I know it's not what you imagined, but I’d really like to help you.” You join him on the floor, looking up at him from under your dark lashes. 

You lean closer to him, he can smell you again, he can see your lips part, he clears his throat “I don’t just want to scratch the itch.”   

You shake your head, “Then let me help you, let me get it out of you. Choso, please.” 

You lean closer to him, you want to help him. The ache between his legs is getting too much to bear, he is too hot, his clothes are too tight, your smell is overwhelming him. Or maybe that's the fever, maybe he’s losing his mind. He scans your face, it's so beautiful. You are the only person he would want to help him. Maybe this was preordained, it was fate that brought him in here to you, so you could help him. So he could finally be with you, if only for a moment. If only once. 

“Okay.” He nods, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck and pulling you in to meet his lips. 

He can’t help himself, he kisses you with every ounce of himself. Every moment of his century in stasis, every ounce of remorse for the people he has killed, every sleepless night ruminating on his place in this world that barely half of him even belongs in. Your lips on his feel electric, sending the synapses in his brain into overdrive. His tongue wiggles past your parted lips, tasting his first of a mouth besides his own. He moans unabashedly at the taste of you.

It's only then that you even think of him being inexperienced, potentially even a virgin. But the time to discuss that has passed, you can barely get air, let alone a moment to talk. His hands are quick to find your bare skin under your shirt. You feel him trembling, his hands shaking as he kneads the flesh of your sides. The taste of him floods your mouth, copper twinged from the blood on his face, but making your lips and tongue tingle with excitement. His hand finds your bra, taking your right breast into his hand and squeezing hard. You cry out, remembering your hypersensitivity due to your own hormone filled body. He pulls off to look at you, heavy blush in his face, spit connecting your lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you swallow, “I--”

“You’re ovulating.” He finished for you. 

“How di--” 

“You smell different.” He leans into your neck again, inhaling deeply from your pulse point, “I can smell how bad you need this. Just as bad as me. Your body is begging for me.” 

It was like a switch had flipped, the gentle, polite, shy man who had stumbled in was gone. Choso’s teeth found your neck, just scratching before he licks a long stripe from the crook of your shoulder to behind your ear, he squeezes your breast again, just as hard, making you keen back, pressing further into his hand. He decides he has had enough on the floor. He scoops one hand around your back and pulls you up with him, laying you down on the exam table before him. In a flash his shirt is gone, and you are slower to follow. But you remove your coat and your top, leaving you in your bra. Choso attaches himself to your neck against, biting, kissing, sucking, licking, anything he can. One hand holds himself up above you, towering over you more like, the other tugs at the button of your pants. 

“Have you done this before?” He asks you, just as he gets them open. 

You nod, feeling his hair soft against your face.  

He hums, “You’ll have to show me what you like. I promise to do my best. I’m a fast learner.” 

Your heart nearly bursts at the thoughtfulness, “This is about you, Choso. Let me.”

You finally touch him back, moving your hands over his torso, feeling the muscles straining, the heat from him spreading to you. You sit up, slotting your mouths together again, desperate for his kiss and grab for the tie of his pants. He hisses as the fabric brushes past his throbbing, blisteringly hot erection. Finally you undo the knot and his pants are quick to fall to the floor, leaving him naked over you. His tongue moves across yours, massaging, tasting, combining flavors with you. Your hand blindly finds his cock, you take it into your hand and Choso howls, separating your lips. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes screwed up tight. You look between your bodies, to where you're holding him between your still clothed legs, just in time to see the last spurts of cum spill from him, and onto the table. You can't help feeling a little disappointed, having gotten worked up yourself, only to have it end before he ever entered you. But you’re quick to push it away, this isn't personal, it was to help him. Choso catches his breath above you, before looking down to meet your eyes. 

“Do you feel better?” You ask, but you aren't able to finish before he kisses you again, his previous passion now turned up to eleven, his mouth is hotter, he pushes his tongue deeper, his teeth clash against yours, his hand returns to your waistline as he moves to keep undressing you. 

His cock in your hand hasnt retreated, if anything it seems completely unchanged, still raging and red tipped. 

“Choso…?” You whimper against his hungry lips. 

“Please, I need more. Please.”He sounds desperate, almost as if he is begging you

You nod and help him out of your pants, uncaring as they slide though the cum and onto the floor below you. Your heels clatter to the floor as Choso scoops you cup and lays you on your back, folding your legs up. 

“Fuck you’re perfect. I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea.” His voice is low enough he could be talking to himself, were it not for him looking directly at your panties, wet and clinging to your swollen lips, “You’re so wet already. You’re so nice for helping me. Thank you.” 

He slides one thick finger along the part of your lips, still shrink wrapped to the soaked cotton, you bite your lip. The mark on his nose has shifted again, back to the black bar you had grown familiar with, just barely beading up at the very edges. The blush on his face and neck has deepened, it seems his blood is redistributing properly again, aside from his cock, which has made no signs of softening. It still throbbed in your hand, which you kept in a steady, tentative rhythm as he explored you further. His finger slips inside the gusset of your panties, feeling the wetness first hand. 

“You’re so warm inside,” He marvels, again, likely to himself. 

He had come across pornography in the time since his awakening. In his journey to understand the urges of his body, and the innate knowledge that resided within the vessel he now inhabited, he had learned about sex, both for reproduction and for pleasure. He dabbled in masturbation, it was hard not to when discovering the body of oneself. He had watched plenty of movies in the brief instances of down time, many of which outlined the inner workings of sexual relationships on an emotional level. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you, writhing and wet beneath him. He explored your pussy further, the nub of your clitoris against the pad of his finger enough to rouse more cum from him, which lubricated your pumps along the shaft of his cock. It was brief, but the second orgasm made him crumple against your leg, pressed against this shoulder. 

This time you smiled, feeling his warm cum slid down your wrist, “Are you always like this?”

You watched him pant his way through the climax as you brought your messy hand to your mouth, licking it clean, and tasting him. He was sweet, how fitting. He watched you feed yourself his cum and nearly gave you more, drool slips from his mouth and down your leg. You feel it slide down your skin, still too far from your begging pussy, you wanted to feel him there, his mouth, his spit, his cock. The taste of him filled your mouth now, you looked over him carefully as he came back to himself. 

He shook his head, answering you, but looked down at you, meeting your eyes, “my blood goes where i want it, as long as i need it there. No waiting, but I don’t usually cum this much.” 

He was so crass suddenly, you felt your pussy clench, aching to be filled by him. Your body had heated so much, the lace of your bra digging in far too tight, your panties now feeling restrictive. Your clit throbbing along with your racing hard, just barely having been brushed by him. You squirm, hoping that he sees how desperately you need him. And you need him, more than air, more than water, more than anything. The room becomes all there is in the universe, only for the two of you, complete privacy, a perfect oasis for him to fill you over and over and over until the end of time. And he was the perfect one for the job, to go endless rounds, no need for sleep or rest, no refractory periods. He could keep you full, used and full. 

It appeared that the curse’s effects were contagious. You would later speculate that when you ingested his cum, some fraction of the aphrodisiac entered and took host in your body as well. 

Surely that must be the case, what else could explain what you said next. 

“Cho, please, I want you to cum inside, please fill me up. I want it inside, Choso please! I need it, I need you. Please.” you begged, you could barely hear your own voice, but you could see the effect your pathetic keening had on him. 

He tore through your panties in a second, your bra was relieved of duty, likely permanently as he seemed to cut through it just by pulling. The exam table’s icy surface seemed to sizzle against your overheated skin, he moved both your thighs over his shoulders, hands under your buttcheeks, using his thumbs to hold you open for him as he licked a flat tongue over your vulva. You cry out, not caring if your screams travel through the basement floors and up to the populated floors. One lick from him has you cumming so hard your vision goes white. He doesn't stop. Kissing and slurping over and over, you're quivering and shaking, but he can’t stop. The taste of you is too much to give up, even for a second. So sweet, so uniquely you, so intimately for him to enjoy. At this point he holds you up by your hips, as though you are attached to his mouth, your legs wrap around his head, you can't do much else but try to breathe through the intense waves of pleasure that he continues to give you with every flick of his tongue. 

“Choso, please!” You finally cry out, “Please, I need you inside. It's too much, please, baby, I need you.” you pull at his hair, hard enough that you’re sure a weaker, more inhibited man would have wailed. 

But he flicks his eyes up at you pleadingly, not wanting to give you up yet. But seeing your desperate, tear stained face, he relents. He lays you back down, allowing you time to cum down as he wipes a hand over his wet face, using your cum to pump his still aching cock. He squeezes the base, trying not to look too closely, knowing he couldn't cum too soon…again. You gather yourself, pussy weeping onto the table below, but already aching for him again. 

“Lay down,” You tell him, moving onto your knees ungracefully. 

He obeys, laying where you just had been, helping you to move over his lap, settling you just above his standing cock. You keep one hand on his chest, the other grips him again and carefully aligns his tip with your gasping hole. You find his eyes again, as if now is the time to reconsider, but he meets them. He gives you a small nod through hazy eyes, his hair is sticking to his head and his neck, the top of his chest is blotchy and flushed, your wetness makes his chin and jaw shine under the light. He looks beautiful, how could you not have seen it sooner, how magnetic and enticing he was. 

“Please, I want to cum in you,” He begs, breaking you out of your admiration, “Please let me give you my cum, please. Please.” He squeezes your thighs, urging you down. 

You sink down slowly, the feeling of finally being connected, sending you both into fits of pleasure. You can’t stop your hips, as soon as they fall fully and meet his, you fuck yourself back down onto him, starting a pace riding him that would normally be laughably advantageous for you. You just cant stop yourself, the tip of his cock kisses your g spot perfectly, fucking even deeper into you than you thought possible, no vibrator or partner you’d had before had ever made you fee like this.The stretch hurt so good, as you moved over him again and again.  

Choso was just as bad, an absolute mess underneath you. He had no idea what he was in for. Your pussy was so much hotter and tighter than he imagined, it felt like his cock would break off, but he never wanted it to end. He could feel every hitch of your breath though the snug walls flush with his dick, he could feel your heart beating, he thought he could hear your blood moving through your body. He couldn't keep his mouth shut, whimpering, whining, gasping, begging you for … more, … or slower, …  or simply just please. 

please. please baby please. more. fuck. yes more. just like that. fuck. please please please please pleasepleaseplease. too fast, it's too much. too much. fuck. please. don’t stop. please please, don't ever stop.  

He watches you ride him, your breasts bouncing with every lift and drop of your hips. He pushes himself up with one hand, using his knees to move you with him. His shift into a seated position pushes him even deeper inside of you. You arch your back feeling him press against your cervix, whining and pulling him closer to you. He brings your breast to his mouth, biting, sucking, swirling his tongue around your nipple. You struggle to ride him like this, but you grind down on him regardless, the friction of his public hair against your clitrois combined with his work on your nipples, more than enough. You aren’t sure how you’ll ever be able to go without this feeling. You paw at his back and shoulder, wanting to keep him close forever. He coos in your ear something unintelligible about just relaxing and letting him take care of you. 

“You’re so good to me, baby. Let me take care of you. You want to be full, right? Let me fill you up. Thank you.” He coos, moving your hair off your neck and letting him return to his new favorite place, your neck. 

He carries on fucking into you, your clit grinding against his pelvis, his lips on your neck, his other hand holding your flush against his chest. You feel your eyes roll back, your kiss along his head, relishing the sound of him going back and forth between whining and praising you. Your skin is blooming, your thighs are shaking, you feel the swirl of building pressure in your abdomen. 

“Cho….” you whine. 

He carries on pumping his hips, grabbing at your ass, digging in his nails. 

“Me too,” He chokes out, bringing your lips to his as he fucks you both to your peaks. 

A vastly different type of orgasm descends upon you both. Profound and all encompassing. His mouth stays on your as long as he can stand it, leaving humid breaths on your lips before he pulls off moaning and tossing his head back. You feel fat tears roll down your cheeks, Choso buries himself as deep as he can into you, spilling shot after shot of cum into you, you feel him pulsing inside of you. He rakes his nails up your sides, sending you trembling. You whine out, Your body swirls and melts into his. He collapses the pair of you back onto the table, keeping himself sheathed inside of you, not allowing any of his cum to escape you.

 You pant on his chest, pressing your ear to where you can hear his heart beating, it's fast, but not nearly the frenzy it was when he first arrived. His big arms encircle you, your bodies feel warm and hot pressed together, but you can feel the chill of the basement air on the sweat of your back, you feel your own heart slowing as you catch your breath. Your own heart rate is steadying as well, at some point the surrounding area had come back into your view, he had stopped bleeding, and both of you felt the effects of the aphrodisiac leave you.  

Choso lies beneath you, feeling your weight against him, feeling your body tremble in his arms, his cock still feeling the quivering, fluttering walls around him, taking his cum, pulling it deeper inside. He was told early on that biological children weren't in the realm of possibility for him, but he already had his family; his brothers, and the ones they loved. But now, with you rested on top of him, he felt sad knowing despite the timing, and despite his efforts, he would never-- could never give you your own. He realized the curse’s effects had lifted, either from time or sweat or exertion they had been exorcised from his body, and with them went his sureness that this had been a good idea. 

“Choso?” You spoke softly, conspiratorially. 

He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“Do you feel better?” You raised your head to meet his eyes. 

He looked down at you, seeing your warm, kind eyes worrying about him. Surely this couldn’t have just been for today?  

Choso nodded, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer edges in a soft smile, “I think it’s over. My heart is still racing, but I don't think that's the curse anymore.” 

You leaned forward, feeling brave, and a bit anxious from how quiet it felt now that the screaming and moaning and panting had stopped. Connecting your lips again, now that the worst had passed you felt no need to hungirly attack his mouth, neither did he. You gave him the sort of kiss you would have given him if he came to you with his feelings and had taken you out. You weren’t the sort of people to be able to go out very often, but whatever date it may have been, wouldn’t have been as successful as this bizarrely unorthodox first encounter. When the kiss was over you tried to move off of him, but he held you down, pumping his softening dick into you once more. You let out a high shaky breath, almost giggling. 

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to just scratch the itch with you.” Choso cups your face in his hand, making you look at him, “I know I’m not your best choice for…someone to be with…I can’t give you a family or guarantee you a future. But I will keep you safe and treat you well.” 

You feel your heart swell at his admission, and more so at the look in his deep, sad eyes, a look that wants nothing more than to be understood, and cared for. 

“Well, I don’t know about forever, but how about after we clean up here. You and I go to dinner and we figure out where to go from here. I like you a lot, Choso. Like, a looooot.”

You punctuate your sentence with a clench of your pussy around him, making him gasp and grip your hips again. You start to laugh and he swats at your butt. 

“I’m serious. After this we have a lot to talk about, but I know that I’m glad we did this.” You suddenly feel shy, despite how bare you have already been. 

Choso smiles again, a contemplative smile, but an honest one, he holds your hips again, “Ready?” 

You nod and move with him as he guides you off his lap, moving to the side so you can lie next to him. He keeps one hand on your waist, not wanting to be parted from you yet. You push some of his hair back on his head, tracing your finger down the slope of his nose, then over his top lip. Choso soaks in everything you give him, sighing blissfully occasionally, so unafraid to make sounds and show you how he feels about you. You're inexperienced with men so open, and so willing to express it abstractly, or at all. You find that Choso makes you nervous, the enigma of his shy, stoic nature, and his desire to be known and understood, compounded with a half curse’s worth of shamelessness. You smile at him again sitting up on the table. 

“I’m willing to bet Shoko has at least one cigarette in here. I know it's a bit cliche, but I can dig around for it if you’re interested.” You stretch a bit, already starting to feel the lactic acid building in your body. 

“I’ve never smoked before.” He shrugs, leaning on his elbow. 

You sit up, not worried about covering yourself and begin rummaging through drawers. You found a pack in the second one you opened, slipped one out and then had to search for a lighter, which proved harder to find. But a long forgotten box of matches sat in the bottom drawer of the desk. Choso watched as you searched, admiring seeing your body in so many shapes, at so many angles. It was so beautiful to see the human form so relaxed and unposed, he had to fight the lump in his throat back down, so as to not disrupt you with his emotion. YOu climbed back up to the table and lit the small, thin cigarette. You inhaled and blew out a plum of soft grey smoke before passing it to him. He followed your lead, feeling the smoke slide down his throat, burning on the way down. He quickly exhaled, not wanting the taste to overpower yours on his tongue. 

“Not for you, huh?” You took another drag. 

He shook his head, “Maybe another time.” 

You hummed to yourself, taking in the room around you. Choso had no interest in the room, only to watch you leisurely inhaling and exhaling. He thought that all the movies he had seen had gotten it wrong, that while he didn’t know exactly what it was he was feeling, he knew that no one could have ever felt like this. You turned back to him, another beautiful smile coloring your face. 

“There is a locker room down the hall, we can get cleaned up.” 

“Together?” He reaches for you. 

“Sure, Cho.” You leaned in and kissed him again, your fingers under his chin tilting his face up to you. 

You got up from the table, haphazardly draping your coat around yourself, avoiding as much of the cum that had pooled as possible. You offered him his, mostly, unstained trousers. Which he shuffled in to. You discarded the cigarette and hung on the door, turning back to face him. He was still watching you, picking up left over clothes, brushing his sweaty hair back. 

“Coming?”You flirt. 

He feels his face heat up and nods, watching you leave down the hall. He grabs the last of your discarded clothes, replaying the events of the last few hours in his mind. 

“Cho…” he whispers to himself, a little celebration, before following you down the hall. 

Your evening with your vibrator was long forgotten as you made your way to the locker room, with something far more enticing catching up closely behind. 

I hope y'all enjoyed!!! I really hope i can keep this moment going and get out some of the ideas i have had over the last two months! Cause i've been thinkin big thoughts!!! I cant believe there are almost 200 of us on here, I'm so flattered and grateful! Thanks for indulging me with this one. Love you, see you next time! -- Doodle. <3

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Yeah, honestly my bad.

Honey Cappuccino with Cinnamon

Kento Nanami x Barista! Reader SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

You get a new patron in your cafe, a dashingly handsome, well mannered, well spoken, Kento Nanami.

wc: 13k, whoops

Content: Smut, Fluff, comfort, kind of a slow burn, kissing (ooooo!!), sex, brief fear/violence (but not sexual), small curse appearance, cunnalingus, reader is female, smoking, swearing no spit (r u guys proud or disappointed), bad ending

Ao3, Masterlist, Coffee headcannons. dont reproduce my work or post it anywhere else. i came up with it out of my head. Enjoy.

You loved your morning openings, most people would have preferred to sleep in, enjoy their mornings at home, take their time getting ready for the day, all while the sun was settled in the sky. But you loved waking up in the misty dark, walking in the clean, morning air, and setting up the cafe before the sun found its way out of bed. The hour and a half before the cafe opened felt like you were the only person in the entire world, total serenity. You could make your own coffee, just how you liked it, luxuriate in the smells of last night's prepped pastries baking to perfection in the oven, work at your own pace while listening to an audiobook or a playlist that you chose. It was the time you looked forward to most throughout the week; your perfect hour of bliss. Uninterrupted bliss. 

The ringing of the door chime was your indicator to return to reality and remember that the cafe didn’t exist solely for your own personal enjoyment, but was in fact a buzzing success. From 6 AM opening to 7 PM closing the cafe would see anywhere between 300-700 customers a day. The large majority of them just stopped in, ordering, and leaving upon receiving their coffee and scone or whatever it was they wanted. A handful you saw nearly every day. You, of course, knew their names, you were a professional. But your first rung of memory was always their orders. 

The gentleman that comes on his bike with his canvas backpack -- a double espresso with equal parts hot water to the espresso. 

The woman who comes with her daughters every morning -- two blended caramel frappes for them, three shots of espresso over ice in a large cup for her. (she pours a protein shake over it and mixes it together. She’s been trying to get you on it. You tried it once, she's onto something.) 

The college kid whose eye bags have doubled in size since they first came in. -- Iced americano, one more shot than you feel is ethical each time. 

Three shot soy latte guy, small decaf mocha woman with a fresh set of nails every time you saw her, long pull espresso always in a porcelain cup for the older woman with the faded purple lipstick, etc. etc. 

The mental list of orders must have been a mile long but you kept them all in your heart. You have seen people before job interviews, between shifts, between jobs, on breaks, days off, first dates, break ups, going to work, coming from it, anything in between. Second only to your sacred alone time, was the way you got to know the people who continued to come. Your position as a customer service worker was not without the obvious dregs of complaints and entitlement from the comers and goers, who never asked your name or about your day, and always had something wrong with their drinks, but it was all overshadowed by the kind faces you recognized so well. And nothing could compare to seeing someone for the second or third time, knowing you had secured another person a favorite coffee shop where they could feel comfortable and know that this small, but vital, piece of their life would be taken seriously and made carefully, exactly to their tastes. You liked giving people that peace, a little taste of your own. 

This morning when you opened, you got into the cafe at 4:30. Early for the 6:00 opening but you wanted to enjoy the languid morning hours a little extra today, and you did. You took your time setting the pastry display, straightening up the table, setting up the self service bar. Before you knew it, there was only a half hour left before opening. The large drip brewers were prepped, ready to fill the cafe with the rich smell of fresh coffee at the touch of a button, the last batch of lemon scones were in the oven, you had just finished counting the drawer for the register and were about to spend the last twenty minutes before turning on the open sign in sweet, perfect silence, enjoying your own favorite coffee when the bell chimed.

“We’re not open yet,” your eyes stayed closed, prepping for the first sip of your perfect morning indulgence. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. The sign is on, I didn’t realize.” A rich, oaky voice filled the echoey cafe. 

You opened your eyes and turned to face the voice. The owner of the voice was a tall man, over six feet, a full, broad figure clad in a tan coat over a dark blue button up. The outer layer couldn’t conceale the way his shirt stretched over his chest, buttons meeting, but just barely. A queer looking yellow tie spotted almost like a cheetah or a banana thankfully covered the higher up, more stretched gaps. But what struck you the most was his face, hard lined cheekbones, long, slender nose, hard set jaw, thin but full rosy lips, a set of unique green lensed glasses resting over his eyes. He was stunning, completely beautiful, the kind of beauty that could strike a god down to earth for the chance of love. You felt your throat tighten, your mouth fall open.

“I-uh, Sorry.” And yet you still couldn’t figure out how to respond. 

He took a moment to look at you, then checked his watch, pulling up his sleeve for you to see the joint of his wrist. Behind him you could see the white neon light of the open sign shining through the front window. Your face heated, mortified at how unprofessional you were being, gawking at him. 

“Oh. I am early-- I’ll come back. I’d hate for you to star----”

“No!” you interrupted, waiting just a touch too long before continuing, “You’re barely early, excuse my flippancy, please come in. What can I get you?” 

You took your place behind the counter, he moved to the other side of the counter, he scanned the menu board above your head, turning his chin up slightly, giving you a view of the muscles in his neck. Your mouth watered. You brought your eyes down to the screen in front of you, desperate to quiet the thoughts in your mind. 

“I really would hate for you to start work early. Especially for my sake I can wait outside.” 

“Don’t be silly! I couldn’t have you out there waiting when I can help you now.” 

You absolutely could, and had, on many occasions done exactly that. Letting the morning rush wait until operating hours no matter how early they wanted to “just squeak in super fast!”. But you wanted to keep him inside, bring him closer, give him anything he wanted. Hell, if he turned out to want all the money in the register you probably would have at least considered it.  

The rich voice filled your ears once again, “A cappuccino, please. With just a bit of honey, please.”

Great order, and so polite. 

“You got it.” You plugged it into the computer, the total appearing on his side of the screen, “dry or wet?” 

He cleared his throat abruptly, eyes wide behind the thick frames, “uh…?”

You didn’t realize how it came out, “more milk or more foam?” 

He collects himself, “uh wet, then.” 

You nod, “any preference of milk?”

“Whatever you have is fine.” 

You started the espresso grinder, the whirring filling the soundless air of the cafe, “this is a cafe, we have like six milks.” 

He nods, “right. Um…whatever you use I’m sure is fine.” 

You mirror his nod, “oat is, then. Anything else I can get you?” 

“One of those croissants, please.” He gestured to the pastry case, ten perfect flaky butter croissants sitting beautifully. 

“Great choice.” You smile, “I’ll get your drink.” 

You turned back toward the espresso machine as he moved to start paying on his screen of the register. You were grateful to have an excuse to turn away from him, away from the magnetism of him, to have something to focus on and hopefully regain an ounce of your composure. 

Nanami collected his breath, grateful to have your sparkling gaze out of his immediate eyeline. It takes more focus than would normally be necessary to complete his payment. Fingers trembling over the ‘no receipt’ button, his eyes drifted up again. The large espresso machine in front of you hissed and dripped the fragrant, rich liquid into the small espresso cup underneath. 

“Is this your first time in?” Your voice rang like a bell in the empty cafe, you were pouring milk into a metal pitcher as you spoke to him, not missing a drop. 

So much ease, precision, the routine of skilled work over years of honing, everything was perfectly measured, foamed, and stirred. You clearly took care in what you did, your hands were so still and even as you tipped the small fridge door open with your foot to slip the milk carton back inside. The brief scream of the milk knocked him back into his senses. 

“Yes.” He answered, hoping to keep his internal chastisement out of his tone. 

You nodded watching the milk whirlpool in its small silver pitcher, “I thought so. I don’t think I’ve seen you in before. I’m basically always here, and I think I would have remembered you.” 

A blush heated your cheeks, but you discarded it as steam, pulling the wand from the pitcher and tapping its bottom against the counter. You poured the honey sweetened espresso into a small to-go cup, and topped it with a fair serving of water before meeting the lip of the pitcher with the liquid so the foam could slide perfectly across. 

Nanami watched the smile slide across your lips, cheeks pulling upward, a satisfied sigh leaving you as you perfected the drink. His drink. His. 

He shouldn't be acting like this, he just stopped in to get a quick coffee before returning to the school. The last assignment had been grueling, he was only just finishing it. Talk about Overtime. This was ridiculous, he had been in an awful mood before walking in, miserably dragging himself through the doors of the first lit up cafe he stumbled across. And yet here he was, his previously drained heart beating, no palpitating, in his chest at just a few exchanges. You finally turned back around to face him, presenting the drink to him without its lid, letting him see the perfect line of dusted cinnamon across the foam cap. 

“Here you are!” You beamed at him, hoping to see a flicker of a smile or some kind of praise. 

He didn’t smile but you thought maybe you saw something soften in him. He accepted it across the counter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. Then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was perfect. Perfectly sweet from the honey, but still letting the robust bitterness of the espresso shine, the body of the oat milk complimenting the two perfectly, making the whole concoction taste like a cinnamon and oatmeal cookie that he’d indulge in in some private, anonymous, curseless cafe that he thought only existed in his mind. But he may have found it. 

“Wow. It’s excellent.” His lens-guarded eyes warmed at you through their green filters, “Thank you.” 

A chrysalis was twitching in your heart, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.” 

A moment passed as you waited for him to speak again, praying this interaction wouldn’t be over yet. The chime of the bell at the door broke you away from him, turning to see the beginning trickle of the morning flood enter. He was a nice enough guy, same thing every morning: four shots of espresso with two brown sugars in a porcelain mug that he would sit at one of the back tables in and read the morning paper no matter how ungodly early it was, but right now you wished he never dared step into your shop in the first place. When you looked back and saw the end of Honey Cappuccino’s motion to check his watch, he met your gaze once again. 

“Oh! Your croissant, I'm sorry.” You breathed out, kicking yourself for being foolish enough to think he was lingering to talk to you more, not waiting for the rest of his order.

“Right.” You heard from above you as you opened the pastry case. 

You retrieved the biggest, prettiest pastry for him and put it gently into a paper bag, straightening up to hand it to him. 

“No one going to work this early should go without breakfast.” You smiled, hoping to soften the blow of your unprofessional behavior. 

He nodded, accepting the bagged pastry, “Thank you, for indulging me so early. Next time I assure you I will be within the operating hours.” 

The chrysalis stirred again and you giggled its rhythm, “Don’t you worry. You come back anytime, okay?” 

He nodded again, before moving toward the door. You couldn't help the way your rubbernecked his exit all the way past the edges of the large shop windows. Turning back to the register and seeing your early bird regularly standing before you. Thankfully you knew his regular order by heart and could plug it in and nod through polite conversation without having to stop your rumination 

He had said Next time, implying he would come in again. You said a silent prayer to nothing that he would. At least so you could redeem yourself. So you could remind yourself and demonstrate to him  that you were a consummate professional. The rest of your day was spent smoothly, that tapping, fluttering feeling in your chest was quiet and still. You made drinks, cleaned and stocked the store, were courteous and charming with customers and coworkers alike. But you couldn’t get the man from this morning out of your mind, you didn't even ask what his name was. He would only be Honey Cappuccino Guy, for now, and that would have to be enough for now. 

Nanami entered the school still nursing the last dregs of the cappuccino, savoring the taste of honey and the memory of you in tandem. The high of your interaction was beginning to wane, the head and body ache of a night of reconnaissance and curse slaying an albatros growing denser and denser around his neck. He longed to finish his report and head home as soon as possible, already budgeting the allotment of time that felt appropriate for an early afternoon nap before resuming the chores he had left unfinished at home in a rare act of laziness. He hadn’t eaten his croissant yet, finding it rude to eat on the train, and his stomach felt barren, it seemed every part of him was echoing in discomfort. An echo that was seemingly non-existent in the warm light of the cafe. 

He sighed, rounding the corner to the small extra room that had been designated as his “office”. Not being a member of the teaching staff at Jujutsu High, there was little necessity for him to have a space of his own on its campus. He could easily complete his necessary paperwork in the common areas, or even at home. But Yaga had insisted on marking one of the empty offices as his, with some encouragement from a certain white haired sorcerer. The dwindling number of active sorcerers in the area was certainly a motive to keep each other close. So Nanami obliged, stopping by for meetings, assignments; both at their beginnings and upon their completion.  

This last assignment had been grueling, extending too far into the night, he almost felt dishonest filling out the time card associated with the final report. Nearly twelve straight hours of traveling, hunting, and fighting. It was a miracle he wasn’t delirious. He stretched back in his chair, the lactic acid that longed to settle in his back and legs crackling and redispursing. He found himself again remembering the lilt of your voice, the smell of lemon and sugar and fresh roasted grounds in the air of the cafe. The sense of peaceful indulgence carried him through the next two hours of work before he could drag himself home to shed the day and pass out, dreaming amorphously about flaky pastries and kind expressions. 

It would be almost two weeks before you would see him in the cafe again. You were restocking the milks in the small fridge underneath the counter that housed the espresso machine when the bell rang. It had been a dreadfully slow morning, mostly regulars and single, simple drink orders. It had given you plenty of time to clean, and fantasize. The large, well dressed man from eleven days ago hadn’t yet left your mind. His voice, his stature, his odd clothing, his demeanor. You were positive your memory had to have been generous the more and more you recollected the meeting, surely no one person could be so handsome. So charming, so, in the truest sense of the word, attractive. But when he stepped through your threshold once again, you found that your memory was ironclad. Tall, broad, sculpted features, odd glasses, leopard print tie, pristine styled hair, every detail of him was perfect. Your breath caught in your throat, but even that couldn’t interrupt the smile that widened on your lips. 

“It’s you.” you all but gasp out. 

He crosses toward the counter, a faint smile showing itself only on the edges of his lips, eyes wide and set on you, an expression you couldn't realize was mirroring your own awe. 

“You can say that about anyone. It’s always true.” His voice was just as smooth and even as before, you felt an all too familiar stirring in your chest. 

You laugh, “Good point. I didn’t expect to see you back. Thought I might have scared you off.” 

“Certainly not!” He can feel the burn in his cheeks, “You were kind enough to extend your hours for me. How could I not return to at least say thank you.” 

“Oh!” you chastised yourself for the twinge of disappointment you felt realizing he wasn’t here with any motive other than politeness, “It was no trouble really, it’s like the easiest drink in the world to make.”

He nods, “well, Thank you nonetheless, your work got me through the rest of mine.” 

You let out a low whistle, “That was one hell of a clock in time. Do you always go in that early?” 

“I was finishing up actually. Long project, I…lost track of time.” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to provide you with more information, ordinarily he would dodge questions in their entirety. Truthfully he would ordinarily never be in this situation to begin with, never having been one for casual small talk.  

“Wow…that’s intense.” you couldn't imagine working such a strange schedule, what extreme hours like that must do to a person, “what is it you do?”

This is exactly why Nanami does not engage in casual small talk, does not approach topics that could lead back to sorcery or jujutsu or anything related to his job, why he does not talk to the pretty girl behind the counter. Because now he has to lie. His heart sinks, but he steels himself. 

“I'm a sort of exterminator.” He answers smoothly. Not technically a lie. 

You hum, seeing him stiffen; you’ve seen this before, folks can be cagey about their professions, and particularly assumptions made about them based on what they do, you knew when not to pry, “Hm. You must have to be on your feet a lot.” 

He’s grateful you chose a surface level observation instead of prying further. 

“Well what can I get for you today? Got another long one in the books? Should I break out the hard stuff?” You smile warmly at him, catching his eyes. 

It's then that you realize he isn't wearing those peculiar glasses that he had before. Thick green lenses absent, and amber eyes revealed in their stead. The outermost rings of his irises were dark, oaky brown, his lashes were long but faint, small freckles now visible across his nose and dappling the tops of his high, hollow cheeks. Not only was your memory not being generous, he had somehow become more handsome. You took in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the stirring inside of you. 

“One cappuccino with honey, please. Just the same as last time.” 

“You got it!” You tap the corresponding buttons. 

He pays with a card, a chime sounding as he taps against the reader. He is grateful for an excuse to look away, it feels like every time he looks at you, you’re looking back at him, so intently. He feels studied by you, hot under your gaze. He wonders to himself if the blush he feels creeping up the back of his neck is visible to you. Your smile earlier made it begin its journey from the warmth of his chest up toward the tops of his ears. His harness feels too tight, his jacket feels stuffy and restricting. He reaches up as you finish up the payment across from him and tugs his tie looser, routinely unbuttoning the first button of his shirt. It's then that he notices his hands are sweating. 

Fuck me. Pull it together. He pleads to himself accepting the receipt as you turn away.

Back facing him you begin weighing out the espresso, you can hear his footsteps as he steps off to the side. You catch your breath, gearing yourself up for your next move. The drink comes together quickly. Honey, espresso, steamed and frothed oat milk, a small dusting of cinnamon. You giggle to yourself about the cinnamon on the creamy foam mirroring the dusting of freckles along his face. God, you're pathetic. You roll your eyes at yourself and inhale. You turn back to the counter before stalling. He wasn't waiting at the counter and you had, once again, been too frazzled to ask his name. 

“Uh…H-honey cappuccino?” Your voice wavered weakly. 

He crosses over from the other side of the cafe where he had been admiring the community board, where local artists would hang their work, organizers would add flyers for local events etc. He traversed the room in three long strided steps. 

“I’m sorry, I usually ask for a name, I forgot.” You explained. 

He accepts the paper to-go cup between you, “It’s Nanami, thank you.” 

“It's nice to meet you.” You smile. 

“And your name?” He is quick to inquire. 

You tell him, smile widening, he nods and repeats it softly. He sips from the black lid, ignoring the initial shock of heat. It's just as perfect as before, a small sound of approval resonates from his chest, you wish it had less of an effect on you than it does. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented, thank you.” He offers a small, polite bow before sipping again. 

“Like I said, it's an easy drink.” you shy away from his compliment. 

“Well, I’m grateful.” He begins to step away from the counter. 

“Thank you. Have a good rest of your day.” You put on your most professional and least loaded smile, “Come by and see us again Mr. Nanami.” 

He nods at you, smiling as he turns and exits the cafe. 

And he did come by again. And again. And again. 

Beginning as once a week, then twice a week, soon he begins to factor a third visit into his weekly routine. Coffee the same every time, including sometimes a pastry; taking a particular liking to the ginger and poppyseed scones, and the oat and lemon frosted cookies, but more often than both leaving with a simple croissant. One some trips the conversation if brief; shallow, single day focused conversation topics: weather, traffic within the cafe, the pastry selection you had out that day. On other days he would ask you questions: when did you learn to make coffee? Have you always lived in this area? Etc. Some days you would be so bogged down with making orders upon his arrival that one of your coworkers would be the one taking his order instead. You quieted the rising jealousy as you heard your fellow barista giggle and swoon at his rich, staccato voice. On those days you would write his name cleanly on the side of his cup and make sure to linger at the drop off counter as you called his name for his drink. 

“Busy in here, huh?” You baited, handing him the steaming cup. 

“It seems my favorite secret cafe is not so secret anymore.” Nanami’s voice sounded truly disappointed. 

You faked insult, “You think you discovered this place? I’ll have you know we’re a local staple!” 

He let out a small laugh, sipping his drink and sighing, “perfect as always, thank you.”

“Of course Nanami, anytime.” You blush at his praise, it never gets old. 

“WIll you be here next Wednesday?” He asked. 

He had never asked for your schedule before. You tried your best to hide your excitement. 

“I will! I’m opening. So feel free to stop by thirty minutes before if you're desperate.” you teased. 

He let out a guilty laugh, “ Well, I'll see you then. Well within operating hours, I promise.” 

You nod, a bit too quickly, “Sounds good.” 

He smiled and nodded again, turning and exiting. 

Your favorite coworker who had been working the register approached you, following your eyeline as it tailed him out of the cafe. 

“Planning on asking him out soon?” She poked your side. 

“No way, Nanami?” You dismissed, “Yeah right, he’s just being nice.”

“Right.” She begins, “because he comes here every week because the coffee here is just that good.” 

Her tone is cutting and sarcastic, she pushes your shoulder lightly before returning to the register, leaving you to your own thoughts. You hadn’t considered the fact that he could actually be coming here for you, of course you hoped and fantasized about exactly that, but faced with someone else’s observation you felt…strange. Embarrassed and exhilarated. You wondered what would come on Wednesday. 

“Thanks for taking me to coffee Nanami-san, You really don’t have to treat me!” Ino Takuma beamed as he walked into the cafe. 

He was beyond excited when his mentor had asked him to have a meeting today after training to discuss the upcoming recommendations. Nanami held the door for Ino as he babbled his way inside, reciting his thank yous over and over. 

“You’re welcome, Ino. I asked you here because I have something to discuss with you. Consider it an expensed lunch.” 

“Still! Thank you so much. I’m honored that you would make time for me, I know how demanding the schedule of a grade one sorcerer can be!” Ino continued, wanting to showcase how prepared he was to take on the demand himself. 

“Lower your voice,” Nanami chastized and pushed up his glasses, shielding his eyes as he scanned the population of the cafe. It must be a slow day, only three patrons to be seen. One sitting at the bar top, reading the newspaper, and a couple seated in the front corner, focused on splitting a pastry right down the center with a small butter knife. 

“Nanami!” 

Ino watched as the muscles in Nanami’s neck appeared. Not in frustration or exertion, the way he had seen so many times before, but a completely new reflex. Dare he think, excitement? He watched carefully as his mentor was urged forward by the woman behind the counter, the beautiful woman behind the counter. Nanami was quick to cross to the empty counter, Ino trotted behind with wide, watching eyes. 

“Good morning! It’s still morning isn’t it?” You smiled craning to see the wall clock. When you turned back your gaze fell to the slightly younger man behind Nanami. He was probably twenty or twenty one, his frame similarly toned and cultivated, hair shaggy and smile twinkling, “You brought a friend. Wait! Is this your brother?”

You looked closely between the two men, both handsome, both well made men with cut features and toned, imposing bodies. A similar height, a similar build. The younger man’s coloring was slightly darker; Nanami’s eyes amber, where his were deep oak, Nanami’s blonde hair contrasted against the other’s shaggy brown hair, but you could see where a family resemblance would reside. 

“No.” Nanami answers cooly, much to Takuma’s chagrin (despite its honesty), “Ino is an apprentice of mine, I’m treating him to lunch today because of his hard work.”

“Well, congratulations, it’s nice to meet you.  What can I get you both?” You smile, side glancing at Nanami. 

Ino blushes through his order, taken by how magnetic you feel when you talk to him. Privately watching how Nanami listens closely when you talk, uses his eyebrows more in his responses to you. You know his order, you sound flirtatious as you ask if he wants his “usual”, Ino sees as Nanami’s lips curl as he nods and selects two pastries from the case to accompany their lunch. Was Nanami…flirting? It seemed everytime you would turn your back, Nanami was catching his breath, and as soon as you returned he hung on your every word. Ino was beyond delighted, he had never seen this side of his mentor before. He watches as you complete the payment, fluttering your lashes and stringing your words together. When the order is complete he follows Nanami to a table in the back of the cafe.

“Ino, I wanted to ask you…”Nanami struggled with the next part of his request. He had found himself at a loss for what to do recently, feeling his standing with you plateau, “I hope you will forgive the candor of my question, In fact I- I am slightly embarrassed to even be asking you,”

“Go ahead, please. You have helped me so much, I’d be happy to try and help however I can. ” Ino had a growing suspicion as to what could have been the subject of his inquiry.  

“The…barista, what do you think of her?”

Nanami prepared himself for anything that could come next. Ino could laugh at him, Ino could laugh in pity before explaining that it was pathetic for a man of his circumstance to be entertaining the idea of a relationship. Ino could chastise him for reading into the kindness of someone who is actively working customer service. Ino could express his disappointment of not talking about the recommendations. He could call upon Nanami’s embarrassment for his own inexperience with flirtation. Nanami prepared himself to be exposed, shamed and cursed. 

“Oh! So you know she really likes you, I think she seems funny and smart. She’s really pretty, like really beautiful. I like her outfit, and hairstyle.” Ino began just as eager and delighted as he had been when Nanami invited him to lunch.  

“Wait, what do you mean she likes me?” Nanami’s brows inched together, although subtly. 

“Oh! Well, she smiles a lot when you talk and listens really carefully, and she called your name when we got here and…”

“That’s her job, she has to be polite and accommodating.”

“Sure,” Ino nodded, “But she seemed really interested in you, not so much with me. I don't know, I guess, but it just seemed like she liked you” Ino shrugged. 

Nanami was lost in thought as Ino trailed off. Could you really like him? Your encounters were so brief, he was so stilted around you, or at least he felt as much. You were accommodating and kind because you were good at your job, it was only natural that he recognized it as charm. He missed your call of his name, signaling the drinks he and Ino had ordered were ready. 

“I’ll get them!” Ino perked up, standing quickly and heading to the pick up counter. 

You pushed the two fresh drinks forward as the shaggy haired mentee approached the counter. He had the floppy stride of a well trained dog, bouncy and excited as he hurried over. 

“Thank you so much!” He beamed. 

“You’re so welcome, enjoy. Your food should be out soon!” You smiled back. 

“Hey, can I ask?” Takuma leaned in conspiratorially, “does he come in here a lot?”

You couldn't help but indulge the genuine curiosity in his voice, “A few times a week for about two months. How long have you been working with him?”

“About two years.” He answered, “I’m so glad too, he usually never takes someone under his wing like this!” 

You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “So he’s a big deal at work, huh?” 

Takuma nodded, “Oh yeah! He’s focused and hardworking, brave and careful.I hope to be half as skilled as he is one day.”

Your smile grew at the extrapolation. It was praise befitting of the man so dedicated to his work that he could be seeking out coffee at five in the morning at the end of his shift. The younger man nodded and couriered the drinks back over to the table. You thought you saw as Nanami’s eyes flashed over to you, but behind his glasses it was hard to be sure. You smiled all the same, just in case. You returned to your work, Ino and Nanami would both wave goodbye to you with mannered ‘thank you’s’ offered as they left after their meeting. You watched as Nanami held the door over his mentee’s head, ushering him out and looking back over to you. You looked away quickly, and when you looked back he was gone. Your lower lip settled in between your teeth, replaying your memories of him in a flash before returning your attention to the steaming milk whirlpooling in front of you.  

You didn’t see Nanami for three weeks after that. 

You were today’s closer, your shift already dragging far into the afternoon. The morning crowd was tired, desperate, and reliant upon memorized routine above all else. Simple orders, simpler conversations. The evening crowd was far more likely to experiment. They are unpredictable en masse in a way that your morning regulars were not, making it so that you had to be that much more attentive when discussing menu options. Not only that but you also had to clean and secure all parts of the cafe before you could leave. On a usual day this is fine, although a complicated and oft tedious dance, but today it is much worse. Your usual array of alternative milks were on backorder meaning you were running out more and more with every order, with now replacements on their way. Also dwindling in stock were multiple menu items, including both pastries and lunch menu components, flavors, even lids for to-go cups had started to wane faster than anticipated. You recalled a conversation with your manager that ended dismissively about the coming weekend and how poorly you were prepared to do your job effectively. Your concerns had been barely acknowledged at the best and outright discarded at worst. Over the course of the last three hours you had had eyes rolled at you six times, had to remake a drink four times, been asked why your stock was so low ten times, and had to give one full refund to a customer who took it upon himself to reprimand you personally for the lack of options available to him. You tried your best to push through but the orders kept coming, and the wait times grew longer and longer, you weren’t making nearly enough progress. 

“Switch out?” Your coworker offers to you marking your wide, scared eyes gazing at the growing number of tickets. 

“Please.” You nod turning to operate the register instead. 

They nodded taking over at the espresso machine from where you left off. You approached the counter just as a woman stepped forward from the line. 

“Hello! What can I get you?” You smiled brightly. 

“Well, I don't know yet…”She was already frustrated, “I’ll tell you in a minute.” 

She turned her gaze upward to the menu board above your head, rolling her eyes on the ascent. It shouldn’t have, but it brought a hot burn of tears to your eyes. Sure, she was being condescending, but you dealt with far more pointed forms of belittlement on a daily basis. Somehow though, after the day that had already transpired, you had to choke back tears. You felt yourself shut down in order to keep from crying at such a stupid remark. You took her order without incident, asking only the necessary questions and issuing the payment efficiently. Upon retrieval of her receipt she left the counter. The tears were threatening to spill over as you sighed in relief. In an example of the universe’s kindness you saw your coworker approach, indicating to you that it was time for you to take your lunch break. You passed her quickly as she entered the floor, grabbing your bag and rushing out the front door in embarrassment. Or rather, you tried to rush out of the door. As you scrambled toward the threshold you collided with something hard, it felt like you hadn't bothered to open the door at all, study and unmoving. You bounced back, feeling a rattle in your bones as you tried to gather your senses enough to turn your head upwards. Two strong hands gripped you in place. You gazed upon the face above you, looking down with wide, green guarded eyes. 

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you, I’m sorry.” Nanami’s hands moved up your arms to your shoulders. 

You haven't ever seen his face so worried before, eyes carefully studying you, brows furrowed, hands hard on your arms, “I--i--Its been..”

Nanami sees the tears well up in your eyes, brimming and nearly spilling over, “Were you going outside? May I join you?”

You nod and he ushers you out quickly, holding the door before following in stride as you hurry down the sidewalk. He watched as you pulled a pack of cigarettes from your purse, drawing one forward, long and thin, and continued to dig inside the bag, growing more and more frustrated. Nanami pulled his own lighter from his jacket pocket, a pristine silver zippo with the characters of his name engraved at the base. He lit the end for you and watched you savor the first drag. Your eyes closed and your lips plump and pursed around the filter. When you opened your eyes and exhaled you offered him a cigarette from your pack, and he took one. Smoking the same cigarette as you made him feel close to you somehow. He lit it as you plopped down on a smoker’s bench two and a half blocks from the cafe. 

“Bad day?” Nanami asked after a beat or two.  

You groaned in response, resting your head on your hands and your elbows on your knees, cigarette dangling dangerously close to your hair. He nodded, suddenly feeling awkward and ill prepared to comfort you. You had probably left the cafe to be free of customers and work, and here he was following you. Shame rose in his chest as he realized his imposition. All the same, Nanami stood next to you, smoking silently, trying to offer you the space you needed, space he had already intruded on. The wind rushed past the both of you, the coming fall air carrying the cigarette smoke away. It seemed to trigger the raising of your head.

“Do you like your job, Nanami?” 

He was surprised. Not by the suddenness of the question but by the sincerity in your voice, and the defeated look on your face. The tops of your cheeks were wet, your eyelashes damp, the usual casual smile you carried now replaced by a deep frown. The sight tore at his heart, until now you had been a consistent source of joy for him, he never expected to see you in such duress. 

“No. I don’t.” He confessed, it was always relieving to be honest about his distaste for sorcery, he made no effort to conceal how he felt, but when he has to do it every day he finds himself pretending occasionally. 

You nod, understandingly, taking the cigarette between your lips and sliding over, for him to plop into the seat next to you and continue, “Well I love mine. I know it’s silly, it's just coffee. But, I don't know, I like seeing people everyday, talking to them, providing something they can enjoy and indulge in, no matter what happens over the course of the day. Something they can rely on for comfort.”

You shook your head, already starting to chuckle at yourself for how stupid you must sound. Before that feeling could take root, Nanami cut in. 

“It’s important. It isn’t silly at all. These people come to you to provide them with a service they can not provide themselves, something you have spent years perfecting for their benefit. You sustain people with energy, you allow them space to rest and stay cool, you offer a moment of kind conversation in a time when people feel more lonely than ever.” His voice stayed even, almost stern, as he spoke to you. 

You watched his face as he spoke, similarly stoic. He was being overgenerous, far too complimentary of your work in something as brief as a coffee stop. You knew this to be the case, it had to be. But, his words echoed the same romanticism that filled you when you had first started in coffee, you did like the idea of providing for people, you liked having a specialized skill, you genuinely cared when your customers engaged you in conversations or told you their problems, human connection was the main draw of the job. And it was why you loved it. You were able to connect with hundreds of people a day, if only for a moment. 

“What happened today?” He inquired further. 

You sighed, “Not any one thing. Just one of the bad ones. I hate disappointing people, and I disappointed a lot of people today.”

“So what?” He responds flatly, taking a drag of the loaner cigarette.  

You’re shocked, a confused laugh leaves you. 

“So what.” He repeats, “if they are disappointed, then they can get over it. Surely the next time they stop in you will take the great care of them that they are used to.” 

His voice is sincere; as though it’s the most obvious, logical line of thinking available. You wanted to defend how bad you felt, to slip into your habits of valuing the negative outlook rather than compartmentalizing. But you can’t, looking at Nanami, with his kind, intelligent eyes looking right back into yours, you’re struck by the heart of his words. You nod reflectively, considering all the situations today where you could feel the disappointment coming from a customer; each situation would be easily fixable when more resources or corresponding orders came in. You had plenty of experience diffusing situations like this, you would be able to fix them all eventually, and anything you didn’t get the chance to — was out of your hands. 

“Thank you.”

 Nanami watched as the smile returned to your face. Your eyes had dried themselves, your back stood straighter as you finished your cigarette and extinguished against the sole of your shoe. He had smoked much slower than you, he wasn't a frequent smoker anymore, an old habit that lingered from needing quick getaways from his former office, so the nicotine buzz was starting to swirl his head, he noticed a small tremor in one of his legs that he recognized as his limit. 

You tucked the butt of your cigarette into a small outer pocket of your purse. Nanami followed your motions, extinguishing his own and handing the double checked no longer burning butt to you. You tucked it inside the same pocket, holding them there to dispose of properly later in a real trashcan. Smoking was bad enough for the environment, you didn’t need to add litter to the equation. Some silly, overly whimsical part of you treasured the idea that the remnants of his mouth and the remnants of yours were in there together, getting cozy. 

He shared that thought with you, although privately. 

“How long is your break?” Nanami asked, wanting to scrub his mind of the thoughts of the indirect kiss between the two of you occurring in your pocket. 

You reached across his lap and took his left wrist in your hand pulling it over to you. His heart stopped, he didn’t dare breathe, immediately conscious of the smoke on his breath wouldn’t disturb you. You had never touched him before, excluding the collision that brought the two of you out here. Nearly three months of over the counter exchanges without a single instance of contact, broken here, with your warm, soft fingers touching the thin skin on the inside of his wrist. He watched your face as you looked at his watch. 

“About ten minutes left.” You sighed. 

You looked back at him, your hold on his arm had brought him closer, much closer than expected. You still held his wrist, his face couldn’t have been further than eight inches, you had never been at eye level with him before. You could see his face so much closer and clearer, you could see the pores on his cheeks, the discoloration under his eyes from overwork and lack of sleep, you thought you saw some deeper discoloration around the side of his eye, but brushed it off as shadow. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, thin and shapely, a full bottom lip with a soft rosy hue. When you met his eyes again you could see through his glasses, seeing that his eyes were trained on you  just as intently. You felt that familiar stirring and buckling in your chest that had become so synonymous with your feelings of excitement around him. He was so close, so focused on you, you felt intimidated, and observed. You released his rest, back into his lap. 

“Thank you, Nanami. I needed that.” You sighed, looking away from him, trying to break the growing tension between the two of you, “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I promise I'm usually better at this.” 

Nanami shook his head, similarly thankful for the severing of intensity, “don’t apologize, I understand. I’m glad I was here.” 

You took in the sidewalk and the street, the cool early fall air around the pair of you, the weather was perfect. Beautiful sun, chilly air, the smell of coming evening rain. You stood, brushing the back of your pants off for any eager fallen leaves that you had been previously too frustrated to notice. He stood quickly to meet you, adjusting his coat and sleeves to busy himself. You two took another moment to adjust yourselves before locking eyes again. You offered him the kind smile he knew so well. 

“Are you ready to head back?” Nanami cleared his throat. 

You nodded, feeling much more grounded, and grateful for this moment of respite. You walked back together, not needing to exchange words, just simply walking side by side the all too short two blocks back to the cafe’s door. Once you reached the door Nanami stalled. Something in him changed, an aura you hadn’t seen in him before 

“Would it be okay if I came by later today?” He asked, not quite looking at you, but over you and into the cafe behind you. 

“S-sure, of course.” You felt yourself shrinking, the embarrassment of how vulnerable you had just been creeping in in a vignette, shading the moment of connection you had just shared with him. 

Nanami gave a clipped nod, looking around once more before turning his gaze down to you. 

“Okay. I’ll be back here tonight. Take care of yourself.” He nodded once more before turning and heading back down the street, 

“W-wait, did you want your coffee?” Your sentence began as a call but faded into a whisper as you realized he wouldn’t be turning around. 

You watched his silhouette descend the path, turning and disappearing into the city. You weren’t sure exactly what happened, what you had done or what had called him away. But before you could dwell too long you heard the voice of your coworker calling to you, asking you for help back on the cafe floor. You looked once more down the path that Nanami had left down, before returning inside to finish your shift. 

The rest of the day passed as well as it could have, and regardless of how grueling it was moment to moment, the time passed anyway, and once the cafe had cleared itself and the hiss of the open sign was made silent, you found yourself alone. The bakers had completed their prep bakes for the next day, allowing them to cool in the large industrial freezers overnight, the other baristas had swept and mopped before clocking out and returning to their own homes. You stood behind the counter waiting on the espresso machine to complete its last cleaning cycle. Nanami hadn’t come back as he said he would, and while you were alone you didn’t feel like hiding your disappointment. You scanned through what you could have done wrong, everything you said, everything you did, suddenly all felt wrong and overly familiar. You’d scared him off. But scared him off from what, you couldn’t figure out. According to your coworkers, he was flirting, and you knew you were, at least to some degree, however fruitless you considered your efforts. 

You were too bogged down by your spiral to hear the shlucking sound coming from the back. The espresso machine's routine of purging and clicking was too loud for you to hear the store room push itself open. It wasn't until you heard the broken, amalgamated voice calling out that you felt the fear slash itself up your spine. You couldn’t decipher the words, they were too garbled, like that of someone underwater trying to speak to you through an AM radio. The pitch was too high for your ears, and too low to even exist. You stood completely still, no one else should have been able to enter the building, the only unlocked door was the front, large lights and plenty of people making it safer than exiting out the back. Some instinct in you was holding you completely still, restricting you from being able to turn around and see where the sound has come from. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move, the only thing you could think about was your coworker set to open tomorrow, and what ungodly nightmare was she going to have to walk into. Tears fell from your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks snapping you out of your paralysis, your body shaking as you started to turn and face what was coming. 

“Don’t turn around.” Nanami stood in front of you, his usual tan jacket removed, moving his sleeves up his arms, his gaze locked behind you. 

Your breath found you again, chin quivering with fear and relief at the sight of him. 

“Close your eyes.” Nanami’s voice was darker than you had ever heard before.He looked completely different, intense and large and imposing, if you didn’t know him you could have been scared of him, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Close your eyes.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately missing the comfort the sight of him provided. You heard a thunk, a grunt, a slash, and then nothing. 

“You can open your eyes.” Nanami’s voice came from right behind you. 

You turned around quickly, seeing him standing over a pile of knocked over cups and pitchers, holding what looked like a butcher’s knife wrapped in cow print fabric. His yellow tie that you had grown to admire as a symbol of him was loose around his neck. He was still looking down at the ground. Once he seemed satisfied with whatever it was, he looked back at you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, sheathing the paddle looking blade on the brown leather holster on his back, you had never noticed it before. 

“What the fuck was that?” You couldn't help the tears that fell from you as your body started to shake harder and harder. 

Nanami put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tight and soothing, “I’m sorry you had to see that. But it’s gone now, I assure you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you started sobbing falling against his chest. He held you tight against him, letting your tears soil his shirt and your body tremble in his arms as he held you firm. You wept until openly, feeling no shame, there was no room for shame with all the fear and adrenaline vacating your body. He made no move to quiet you or tell you to calm yourself, he simply held you close. 

“Can I take you home?” Nanami asked, his voice resounding from his chest where your ear was pressed. 

You nodded. 

Nanami had started sensing the build up of cursed energy on his last visit before bringing Ino. It was faint enough that he couldn’t place if it was coming within or from the general street. On his subsequent visits he noticed it growing exponentially, building on itself in a way that was inching toward concern. His selfish motives for bringing Ino to the cafe were overshadowed when he picked up on it as well. Confirming Nanami’s suspicion that it was an internal problem, and one growing more and more dangerous by the day. Earlier today was the first time he had noticed its effect in action. You tear stained face, the disgruntled patrons, you fevered, overworked companions. He knew he had to intervene. He had come after closing hoping you had already gone home, hoping to take care of it quietly before it became a larger problem. It wasn’t until he saw you terror-stricken with a low level curse emerging from behind that he conceded he would have to tell you. He didn’t want you to have to experience any of this, you shouldn’t have to face the reality of this world, and the monster’s within it. You deserved the same ignorance as everyone else outside of sorcery. But it was no longer his decision. 

He walked you home, which wasn’t far from the cafe, and up to your apartment. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, he hesitated briefly before following you. These aren't the circumstances he had anticipated for his first foray into your living space, but again, it was out of his hands. 

“You said ‘it's gone now’, what is ‘it’?” You asked as you locked the front door behind you, check the peephole for anything out of order. 

Nanami sighed, “It’s…a lot to explain, most of it would be incomprehensible right away. It would take me hours to make it all make sense. And that isn't a slight against you, it’s because I know you're smart that it would only take that long.”  

Your voice was returning fully, the fear having left itself behind at the cafe, “Nanami, you knew. You knew that whatever it was was there, you…killed it? Drove it away? Would it show up here? Do I need to be worried about this thing coming here?”

“No.” he was quick to shake his head, “It’s dead. Well it wasn’t ever really alive, not really. But you don’t have anything to worry about, anymore. I’m sorry it got that bad.”

“Please just tell me.” You groan, “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

And he believed you. So he told you. 

It took nearly four hours, one and a half pots of coffee, and a few crudely drawn diagrams on the back of a take out menu that he drew. But eventually you understood that what had attempted to attack you was a curse, and that curse had likely been building over a series of months or maybe years before it reached this form. He was a sorcerer, a kind of soldier tasked with the exorcisms of these curses in an intensely guarded organization dedicated to keeping curses secret and the public safe. The young man, Ino, who he had brought with him is a sorcerer as well. He explained the rank of threat, and how yours was incredibly low for any skilled sorcerer, which apparently, he was. He showed you the blade he kept on his back, the one that had been hiding just below his jacket for the entire time you had known him. He explained to you how he was able to kill the curse in a single strike, how his technique worked. When his explanations had been completed you felt strange. Stuffed to the brim with new information, most of which terrified you and made you feel powerless against a threat you could have gone through your whole life without knowing about.  But a part of you felt good, knowing there were people kind enough and skilled enough to make this an insular problem, one that did not necessitate the knowledge of the general populace out of sheer humility. 

“I understand that this must be a lot for you to take in. But, I promise you that what attacked you tonight will never show its face again. I can give you a talisman, something to keep in the cafe to keep it safe from future curse development.” Nanami had taken off his coat and harness, his blade lay on your coffee table alongside his glasses and your purse. 

“Was that why you left so quickly today?” It may have been a silly thing to inquire about in the wake of so much life changing information, but you couldn’t hold your tongue. 

Nanami nodded, “I had to run back to my..boss basically, and get a formal assignment to exorcise the curse. I’m sorry I left. I didn’t want to. When we got back the energy was too strong, I knew I would only have a few hours.” His apologized, setting his nearly complete coffee cup on the table, “But I had to make sure that nothing happened to you,” after a beat he adds, “or your coworkers.”

“So you, you saved my life tonight.” You whispered. 

The front pieces of his hair had fallen out of their usual styling, they now hung in front of his face. Through the sandy strands you met his eyes, looking tired and locked with yours. The faint bruise on his brow suddenly made sense, the bags under his eyes, the serious demeanor, it was all recontextualized. You didn;t stop your hand when it traced your middle finger over a small, well healed scar along his eyebrow. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nanami conceded, usually not one to accept praise for his work. 

“Nanami you saved me.” Your hand cupped his cheek, “I would be a mess for someone to clean up tomorrow morning if you weren’t there.” 

He was speechless, your hand on his cheek was warming as heat crept to his face. Your eyes were so big and beautiful, your lips looked so soft as they shaped your gratitude. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Was all he could choke out. 

You had read about this. After near death experiences, or other instances of extreme adrenaline, the body could have all kinds of after effects; nausea, sleeplessness, exhaustion, arousal. The arousal coursing through your body was a natural side effect of what you had just been through, and what was right in front of you. He had been there watching over you, keeping you safe from threats you couldn't even imagine. Every day he returned was another day that he was caring for you, protecting you, trending to you. His skin was smooth and hot under your touch, the hair of his sideburns was soft under your fingers, it felt like every nerve in your body was turned up to a thousand. The quick hatching chrysalis was nearing its emergence, it was so still as you leaned closer to him. 

“You must be tired. I can go, if you need to sleep.” His resolve was faltering. 

“If you aren’t busy, I know it’s been a long night,” Your hand traveled down to his shoulder, the barrier of his shirt helping him regain some sense, “I think I would sleep better if you were here. Just for the night?”

The cock of your head and the flutter of your lashes made your offer clear. Nanami’s cheeks became more pronounced as he tried to swallow down the burning desire to have you right here. But he, too, had read about the aphrodisiac effects of adrenaline. He knew that there was a chance that your gratitude and your exhilaration were converging inside of you to make you feel like you wanted him, when you were actually just happy to be alive. 

He put his hand on your arm, “Sometimes, when someone has been through something like what you have, they may look for…other forms of excitement to help with the adrenaline dump…it’s very natural..”

The back of his neck was hot, his shirt felt too tight, his pants felt much too tight, his mouth was so wet he risked drooling right in front of you. But he couldn’t take advantage of this moment, it would be wrong. He liked you. Ino claims you liked him, but he doesn’t know for sure, it would be deplorable for him to act on this offer without knowing if this is something your right mind wanted. 

“I’ve read that before.” You nodded, looking at his hand wrapped around your forearm, he was so big, “I’ve never experienced a curse before.”

He nodded along with you, still watching your mouth move. 

“But, I’ve experienced attraction before, Nanami. I know what it feels like to want someone. And I want you.” You told him, pulling your legs up under you on the couch.  

A small shake from his head, “It’s just psychosomatic. You’ll feel better in the morning, or after a shower. It’s the adrenaline.”

“I don’t think I had excess adrenaline the morning you came in first. Or the next time, or earlier today outside. Nanami,” You dipped your head down to look up at his, “Nanami, please. I’ve been too scared to say anything, I didn’t want to seem unprofessional or scare you. But, I like you. I really like you, I think you're gorgeous and kind and funny. You’re brave and smooth and a little weird, but I like that.”

He scanned your face for signs of lying, twitching eyes, avoidant eye contact, swallowing, anything that he could rely on to keep himself from getting exactly what he wanted. But he found nothing. Nothing to let him off the hook of being honest about how he felt. 

He let out a heavy breath, his hand on your arm growing tighter, “I fell for you the moment I walked in. Everytime I went back I went for you. To see you. I think you’re so beautiful and charming. I don’t want this to be wrong.”

You shook your head, your hands returning to his face, the one he had on you now moved to the back of your couch, “It’s not wrong. Nothing about this is wrong.”

He grips your hands, looking you right in the eye. You see his pupils have grown wide, you can feel the sweat on his palms, mixing with your own on the backs of your hands. He held you right in front of him, looking over every inch of your face. You were gorgeous, His heart pounded in his chest, like it was reaching for you. He let out a grateful breath. 

“Thank god.” He couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you. 

The both of you leaned forward in the same moment, meeting at the perfect center of both pursuits to press your lips together. The chrysalis inside of you hatched, the beating of your heart, the flapping of wet, quickly drying butterfly’s wings. He touched your neck, downy hairs at the nape of your neck soft under his fingers. He was quick to pull you by the waist into his lap. His tongue was smooth on its entrance into your mouth, tasting the underside of your own, the backs of your teeth, the coffee you had shared. The kiss was heated and smooth, personal styles learning to blend together. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands in his hair, over the back of the couch, anywhere to offer you stability. Nanami’s hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt and feeling the first of the body he dreamed of. Kicking himself in the privacy of his own home for thinking of you so disrespectfully. But in your home, on your couch, with you in his lap, he wanted to worship you. The hands he had cursed for pleasuring himself to the thought of you were not reverent as they felt your hips, your ribs, the sensitive flank inbetween. He could feel your shiver as he made his way back and forth, you were sensitive there. He was toying with you, relishing in your hissing inhales, and your breathy moans. But you were never one to be toyed with, you tested a personal theory of yours, one you had formulated with your hand in your panties on nights when sleep wouldnt come and you looked to your own devices to tucker yourself out. You scratched your nails across the cropped undercut at the back of his neck, gripping and tugging at the hair. Nanami let out a strangled moan underneath you, his hips bucking into yours, and his hands gripping you tighter. Just as soon as his mouth left yours, he found your exposed neck, kissing, practically lapping at the skin there. This pulled the more embarrassingly pitched moans out of you. High whimpers as you keened against him in his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful, you’re so good, fuck.” He peppered his praise in with kisses along the column of your throat. 

You haven't heard him swear before now, the words fell from him so easily. He was clearly practiced, it made you wonder what other sides of him came easily that you hadn’t yet seen. 

“Yu-you are,” You could feel your brain covering itself in honey, the saccharine sweet feeling of him under your, on you, all around you, consuming your ability to think. 

You felt him smile against your skin, pulling off of your neck and sliding his hand around to the back of your neck. 

“I-I don’t do this very often, it’s been a while, please don't tease me too much.” This was the softest you had ever heard him, his voice was breathy and it almost came out as a beg. 

You looked down at him sweetly, his hair mussed across his forehead, buttons of his shirt seeming to have undone themselves, tie falling to either side, his chest flush in splotchy red patches. He looked stunning, the light of your living room you had previously considered unflattering, was golden hour. 

“We can take it slow, if you want.” You offered, wanting to accommodate him, the way he had already for you. 

He shook his head leaning forward and readjusting you on his lap. When he settled you back down you realized the reason for his frantic reaction. The very big reason. The pants tenting, hot, probably leaking, reason. 

You nodded, quick to understand. You leaned forward to kiss him again, making sure to grind yourself down in his lap before pulling off completely and grabbing his hand, tugging him behind you. Nanami felt drunk following you to your room, found himself almost stumbling as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. He crossed the threshold to your bedroom where you had already pulled your work pants off, standing in only a thin tank top and your panties. You approached him with mock disappointment and your bottom lip between your teeth. You moved your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to be the one to take off your shirt,” You cooed. 

Nanami’s hand found the lapels, “I can button it again if y--”

You giggled, “Next time.”

Before pulling him into another deep kiss by his neck. His hands found your hips, eager to slip one finger under the top of the waistband and feel the hidden skin. You slid his shirt down his shoulders, the tie falling along with it. Your lips smacked together over and over as you both tried to touch as much skin as was available to you. You pawed at the hard lines of his back, feeling ridges and valleys and muscles. He, similarly, was quick to find the hemline of your shirt and slip underneath. You both let out a haughty moan as he cupped one of your bare breasts. IF you had had your eyes open, you would have seen his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped his tongue between your lips once again, squeezing the tit in his hand. You freed your arms and pulled the shirt over your head as he undid his belt. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” Nanami gazed over you. 

“You’re gorgeous.” You echoed, hopping on to the bed and watching him pull his grey slacks down his legs. He wore a pair of navy colored briefs that hid almost nothing, especially the nearly black splotch of precum that had accumulated. 

“Fuck, you’re hot.” You marveled at him, his body, the evidence of the effect you had on him, his face, him, all of him. 

Nanami sucked in a quick breath, fighting his embarrassment by looking at the hungry look on your face. You were nearly naked on the bed, waiting for him. You had only your panties on, your chest exposed, nipples once puffy now hardening with excitement. Eyes trained on him, mouth panting and swollen from his kiss. He could see a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, he would apologize in the morning, flowers or breakfast, but for now it was all his to admire. He joined you on the bed, climbing over your body to do so. His torso caged you in completely, wide shoulders shadowing over your frame. He pulled you by your thighs. Taking time to stretch your legs and admire the muscle and skin and fat that made up your gorgeous form. He seemed impressed with your flexibility, at least the little click of his tongue indicated as much. His clothed cock pressed right against your panty clad pussy, both hot and begging to be aligned. He pressed his hips a little as he brought one of your ankles to his lips, kissing the ball, then up the calf. You moaned at the wet kisses, relishing in his affection. He looped his thumbs into your panties, releasing your leg so he could pull them from your legs. Nanami caught your eyes before spreading your legs in front of him, you gave him the go ahead and he sank before you, aligning himself to see your pussy spread open for him. If he wasn't drunk earlier, he was now. Sticky, dripping, gorgeous. He couldn’t hold back, he licked a long, wet stripe up you slit, tasting his first of you. 

Your body was on fire, completely electrified, and weightless underwater all at once. His tongue made its home between your labia, sharp nose being buried in your mound. Your back arched off the bed as a wanton moan left your wet mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, finding a grip for you to cling to. Your other hand held your breast. Nanami’s tongue flicked itself up and down, kissing your clit, drawing out more and more arousal from your dripping hole. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He says, soft enough to be just for himself. 

You can't respond, only mewl as he sucks at your clit. You release your breast and grip on to the headboard, accidentally pulling yourself away from him. Nanami grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his tongue. 

“Come back.” He mumbles, again, almost to himself. 

“N-Nanami, i-..”You are cut off by another harsh suck to your clit, his tongue circling inhumanly. 

You were so close, it usually would have taken you much longer to orgasm but the excitement coursing through your body and his skill had turned you to keening, pathetic putty in mere minutes. He flicks his golden eyes up at you, watching you start to unravel. He knows what to do, or rather what not to do, he carries on exactly as he has been, every flick of his tongue pulling you down further. It became too much, and you bubbled over. You cried out in white out pleasure, pulling on his hair. Your legs clapped around his head. He drank up everything you gave, your moans upsettingly muffled by your flesh over his ears. 

When he felt you relax again, he pulled his mouth from you, a thick, gossamer string of spit and cum connecting from his lips to your pussy. The hand from his hair fell to his face, pairing nicely with his blown out eyes and fucked out expression. He caught his breath while looking over your body, your full breasts, your tummy rising and falling as you caught your own. He moved over you once again, kissing you deeply. He tasted like you, his tongue was heavy and hot in your mouth, his hands were fast to rid himself of his underwear and pull your legs over his bare hips. You could feel the length of his cock pressing against your throbbing, overly sensitive cunt. Your outer lips, now much more sensitive from Nanami’s expert work. 

“You’re amazing.” You gasped out against his mouth. 

He hummed pridefully, kissing you again. He grinds his hips hard, hoping to prepare you further for what's to come, but he miscalculated, a rare occurrence. Both of you let out long, glorious moans as he pushes himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Nanami shudders briefly before gaining his strength back, you dig your nails into his back, but he cant feel anything except the pulsing of your pussy around him. He may never be able to think again, not of anything other than having the hot velvet muscle between your legs tight around his cock. You whimper at his penetration, feeling him press the deepest parts of you. Tip of his cock kissing your cervix, just as passionately as he kissed you. He was not a small man by any measure, and the entirety of his cock probably made up close to eight inches, with the girth to burn as it stretched you open. 

Which he did again, catching your panting lips on his own, quick kisses between caught breaths as you both adjusted to the feeling of being joined together. He pulled his hips back, pulling a shaky moan from you, and pushed in once more. Somehow he reached even deeper than he did before, his cock arching up to press that beautiful, spongy spot inside of you, the spot that made you clit throb and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Look at me, baby.” Nanami pleaded, “I wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open, a drunken droop to the lids as he thrusted again. He found an even, well paced rhythm. Kissing you occasionally, when one of you wasn't gasping out in bliss. Your hand moves up one of his arms, gripping his taut bicep and his sinewy shoulders. He pressed his forehead to yours, looking down your body to see his pelvis meeting yours. His cock throbbed inside of you at the sight, in turn making your walls grip him tighter. You pull him back to your lips, wanting to be consumed by every sensation he could give you. His hand by your head grips the pillow hard, ripening a hole in the casing. You move your hand up to meet his, holding it and interlocking your fingers. His grip softened instantly, becoming as sweet and generous as ever part of him had been already. You felt him twitch inside of you once more. Followed by a choked moan. 

“I-i, baby I,” Nanami struggled to get his words out as he drove himself further and further into you. 

“Please, Nanami, please.”You held him closer with your thighs, purring out his name. 

“I didn't put on a condom,” He struggled to collect himself, he knew he could be responsible with you, “I should..”

“Dont pull out,” You whine, sounding more pitiful than you intended, “please Nanami, cum inside me, please.” 

He finds your eyes quickly, his heart melting at your big watery pleading eyes. You swollen lips, you drooping, drooling mouth. How could he deny you? Nanami made quick work of chasing his own climax, thrusting harder, fucking faster, holding your body still underneath him. You feel every thrust in your throat. His pace quickens and his thrust become shallow and choppy. Nanami lets out a delicious, languid moan as he cums. You can feel his thick cock depositing load after load of cum into you. An elongated, uninterrupted E sound. He holds you at your hip and when your hand still holds his. His face is now buried in your neck. Your legs are slung over his hips along with your other hand over his shoulder. He thrusts twice more before stalling, having emptied himself, but not yet gathered the desire to pull out. When he finally comes to, he releases your tender hip and pushes himself up from above you, looking down at you. You pant up at him, taking in a post-coital vision of him you never expected, and he, the same. He flushed, sweaty, messy, drool and cum drying on his chin, hairstyle ruined by your grasping. You imagine you looked just as disheveled by half as gorgeous. Nanami, would of course, disagree. He kisses you again, soft and deep. When he finally pulls himself out of you he takes the spot to the right of you in bed. You lie together, allowing your bodies to return to a blissful equilibrium. You roll onto your side, moving a hand over his stomach. 

“So you’ll stay the night?” you gave a sly smile. 

And he laughed. Truly laughed, before kissing you again deeply. 

And he did stay the night. After a quick shower the pair of you returned to bed and slept soundly in each other's arms until he got up before the sunrise to make it back to his apartment with enough time to change before work. He kissed you goodbye and assured you he would come by the cafe. And he did, he met you right at the end of your shift, a bundle of flowers in one arm. He invited you to a home cooked dinner at his place. You were surprised at his determination to make you an established couple, but not even close to put off by it. 

“I know it’s a little unorthodox, but I am about to start a new assignment and it’s shaping up to be a lot of work. I may be indisposed for a few days. I’d really like to see you again before then” He explained as he walked you home. 

“I’d love to,” You giggled, kissing his cheek and admiring the bouquet he had picked out, “Where are you going for your assignment?”

“Shibuya.”

OOOOOOOOOOO SURPISE, anyway hope yall like it and came good. Love you all, thanks for 150 followers. Also im on my barista high horse a little, but just be normal and nice to people, and if you'd tip a bartender, tip a barista. it's the same job. I hope this was worth the wait. I have work in fiv ehours. -Doodle.

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These are my personal favorites of my fic collages!

Masterlist, incase these made you curious! :) Doing the collage is is always the part I save for last, both as a little reward, and so it is comprehensive of the piece! I always want them to be interesting and dynamic, and give you a little taste of the vibe of the fic! I would love to see what you guys like the most! I hope you guys all enjoyed the new Choso fic, and Thank you all so much for engaging with me and my work!

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Fever (Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac Choso x f!Reader)

SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY

8k words. A curse with a strange and intimate defense mechanism has done something to Choso, with Shoko busy with more pressing matters, his healing becomes your soul responsibility. And like any good, young doctor, you're willing to do anything to help your patient. ao3

not, not made while listening to Disease by Lady Gaga.

Warnings: (This is a SEX POLLEN fic, which always carries a degree of dubious consent, I feel I have clarified a lot of of the grey-er areas, but if that is not your thing, this is your heads up, see you in the next one <3.) Sex, premature ejaculation, kissing, oral (f receiving), probably a lot of really dumb sounding attempts at medical jargon, smoking, discussions of ovulations/menstruating, Virginity loss (choso), BLOOD, some scent stuff, feelings and some stuff about conception. Choso is pretty pathetic, but i feel like you probably knew that.

When you woke up this morning, you could feel it. That dull, barely there ache in your lower back, telling you that your cycle was nearing. You weren’t the best at manually tracking your cycle but you had enough lived experience menstruating that you knew the sign posts. Brushing your hair and washing your face, you found your skin was smooth, any dullness you would have usually fussed over seemed to have righted themselves and been replaced with a bouncy, full glow.

When dressing, you found your breasts felt fuller, filling out the cups of your bra, almost to the point of spilling. They felt heavy, the lace pressing against your nipples for a sweet sting. Your hands stayed holding your breasts, tracing your areolas softly, sucking in a sensitive breath. A glance at the clock tells you there's no time for you to rub one out before you have to leave for work. But you feel a tingle of excitement knowing you’ll come home to your vibrator and whatever naughty media you can get your hand on. There’s supposed to be a new sexy, vampire show your friends hushedly told you about. Maybe tonight? You have a bottle of red you've been waiting to open, why the hell not! Some wine, maybe a long bath….your eyes travel to a candle on your nightstand. You can light candles for your own masturbation, right? Wow, you’re quite the romantic. 

The excitement of your evening of solo pleasure carries you through the rest of your morning routine. You pour yourself a coffee, you make sure to grab an umbrella, the forecast predicting rain for the next few days, and double back to plug in your favorite vibrator(s) before heading out. As expected, it's already drizzling, light grey clouds spilling their contents all over the city streets. The cool fall air wets your face, but you don't mind. You had gotten yourself a bit worked up inside, so it was nice to have something to bring you back down to reality. You still had a full work day ahead of you. Your walk to work was quick, a subway ride even quicker, the manager that met you with a car to carry you the rest of the way to Jujutsu Tech was punctual and polite. She was pretty new, a young woman, probably not even 25, but she was a great driver, and made a few jokes here and there that made the usually long drive feel clipped. Arriving at the school, you were quick to thank her and head inside. She was cute, you found yourself thinking as you turned away from the car. 

Young and funny, a sweet face, a good body, how old did she say she was again? 

Oh geez, whats going on with me? 

You shake the inappropriate thoughts from your head, and mark the doorframe as your own compartmentalization threshold. Within these walls you must remain an absolutely iron clad professional.There can be no mistaking it, no distractions, and no anticipation. Students pass quickly to their classes or from the breakfast lines, some wave or bow in greeting at your pass. You're quick to return their gestures. You make your ways down to the hospital floors, making a quick stop by the lounge to refill your coffee. The school grounds took on many purposes, education, training, treatment, triage, conference, protection, archival, morgue…etc. Your business primarily took place on the lowest levels, being the medical wing, the labs, and the morgue. You never had the chops to go into the field after your graduation from Jujutsu High School. Opting instead to apprentice under Shoko Ieri, the reverse cursed technique wunderkind, just two grade levels higher than you. The absolute chance of a lifetime. She was a terrible teacher, truly awful. Too genius to make her lessons practical. But thankfully you weren’t some talentless schmuck, you could hold your own against genius. You learned fast, were excellent with your hands, and eventually Shoko brought you in full time as her second in command. If she was the head of surgery, you were the school nurse. Where she was tasked with reviving fallen sorcerers and performing bizarre autopsies, you mostly reset broken fingers and administered stitches. 

This last year had not been kind to your practice. Far too many familiar faces meeting you in the chilly, sterile basement morgue. Shoko was taking on more and more…experimental (?)  projects. Ones with more weight, more stakes. Especially now. Which meant you held things down more and more. But once you reached the stainless steel double doors leading to the main hall of the medical wing, you knew she was here. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and the lilac perfume she swears covers it. The first exam room light was on, the door cracked, white light seemingly unbroken between the hallway and door frame. The light never changed down here, it was as steady as the tile, and just as cold. 

“Shoko?” You peeked around the cracked door. 

She was prepping the room; someone was coming in. Her words spilled immediately as though they had never had a beginning, she had simply always been talking. 

“Big one coming in. Associate Manager just called, they’re on their way back. Apparently it’s nothing broken or bleeding, but they couldn’t explain any more than that. Go figure.”

The possible orders of procedure began listing themselves in your brain. Shoko exited the room and you followed closely, her heels and yours clacking together in perfect time. 

“Choso, the half curse from Shibuya. Apparently something hit him, or bit him?” Shoko wasn’t often without the right information so her irritation was growing at every reminder, “whatever, we have his blood samples and the remaining curse womb death paintings, if—god forbid— anything serious needs to happen.” 

Viles clinked against one another as her gloved hand searched the refrigerated cabinet of samples taken from each sorcerer. You wondered whose blood was next to yours in there. 

“Can’t you just…fwoo?” You tried to imitate her stupid circle gesture she always made when trying, unsuccessfully, to get you to master reverse cursed technique. 

Shoko turned to face you, “well that’s just it, I won’t be here. I have to get back underground before anything changes. This is your pop quiz, okay?” 

Finally, the intensity dawns on you. You truly had no way to know what would be coming through those doors. A half second later, it dawns on you that none of the supplies she has been gathering are even for you! Every second you spoke was another second you lost to prepare, valuable seconds. 

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, quickly turning back to the labs, scanning your brain for relevant material to gather. Allergy lists, blood, most recent labs, gauze?? 

“I see you get it now, try and be a little faster if the guy’s dying, okay?” A cigarette has manifested between her lips as she heads down the hallway you had only just entered, “call me afterward and update. Bye!” 

And just like that she was gone, the doors swinging shut behind her, but you don’t see them zip up their seam. You are already turned away and heading back into the lab. Pulling anything potentially useful: pain relievers, antibacterial salves and ointments, gauze, anything you could think of. You didn’t know Choso all that well, but knowing sorcerers was a mixed bag anyway. It often felt the ones you did know, were the ones you lost. But he had been in and out plenty of times in the last month, rounds and rounds of testing with Shoko, with assistance by you. He was quiet, kind of emotional, but a great help to your cause. Not to mention he had been quite the looker. Dark, gloomy eyes, excellent bone structure, a body that looked carved in marble. You quickly chastised your body for wasting valuable seconds even thinking about anything except preparing to help save his life. 

 His strange position as both a half curse and a turn coat made him even harder to anticipate. His blood wouldn’t likely be the problem, as it is nearly entirely regenerative. How would that work for infection? Before you can wonder too much, the subject of your mystery arrives with his smaller, too grizzled looking younger brother in toe.

“I don’t know what happened! I’m really sorry, he looks like he’s going to faint. But he walked all the way here. He won’t let me touch him.” 

There was blood, but only streaming from the amorphous block shaped marking across his face. It was hard to tell what shape it had taken on, his face was so flushed. He was panting, the glowing blood spilling into the floor, seeping into this clothes, onto Yuji’s shoes. 

“It’s okay, Itadori. Did he get hit with something or by someone?” You kind of sheep dogged Choso towards the exam table with Yuji’s help, finally getting him to lie down, which caused him to ground and sit back up. 

“This big weird curse squirted some goo or some gas or something on him, but it looks like it sank in, I can’t see where it even hit him. Its was like POOF! And then like nothing! And then…” Yuji’s voice was high and shaking, he sounded every bit the child he was, it was easy to forget both how young he was, and how novice he was to the world of jujutsu. 

Choso groaned again, shifting uncomfortably, rolling onto him back and then his side. You watched the concern wash over his younger brother’s face all over again, big brown eyes unable to look away from his ailing brother. You placed a hand on the top of Yuji’s back. 

“Are you hurt at all?” 

He shakes his head. 

“You did a great job getting him here, Itadori. He’s in good hands, I promise you I’ll do my best to get him right as rain, okay?”

You weren’t completely sure, mystery curse-related ailments were more Shoko’s jurisdiction, but if she trusted you, then you must be more than capable!

“You should head back upstairs, get some rest. I’ll have someone bring you when he’s ready for visitors again, okay?” You have an easy, warm smile, hoping to soothe his anxieties. 

Whether it worked or not, you couldn’t tell. But Itadori nodded, and giving one last look to Choso, turned to head back upstairs. Looking back down at the writhing man on your exam table you weren’t sure how to start, it seemed like every muscle in his body was tensed. He had to relax before you could begin any kind of testing. He was too flushed, his blood pressure, even for him, must be skyrocketing. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Choso, do you know where you are, can you hear me?” 

He nods wearily, not uncurling from his core. 

“Choso, do you think you can sit up, for me?” You attempted, bringing your hands close to his back. 

“Don’t touch me!” He barks, heavy pants follow. He rolls completely onto his side away from you, groaning. You can see  the line of sweat drenching the back of his shirt, “I’m sorry, but-- please, please don’t touch me.” 

“Okay, can you try and sit up?  I have to assess you so we can figure out how to make it stop.”you urged.   

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t start to move, he stays still, fully tensed, desperate pants through gritted teeth. You watch the sweat bead up at the back of his neck, those beads begin to fall and merge together, falling under the collar of his shirt. You moved away from him, getting an instant ice pack from the refrigerator, breaking it, and feeling the cold spread across your hands. Returning to his back, you wrap the cold pack in a thin towel, taking in a breath. 

“Don’t.” He gasps out, “please, just hand it to me.” 

You were shocked he was still so aware of his surroundings. Against your wishes you passed him the cold pack, his hand snatches it from you without making any contact with you. You can barely see his face, but you see the muscle in his jaw pop as he pressed the cold pack to his forehead. 

“What are you feeling, Choso? I can't stop it if I don’t know.” You don’t mean to sound so irritated when you say it, you aren’t irritated, you’re worried. 

“Hot. Really hot.” He sighs, moving the cold pack to the side of his neck. 

“Okay, and did it start right after you made contact?”

“What?” 

“Yuji said a curse attacked you, it had some kind of defensive response, and it put you into this state? Do you have any idea what kind of curse it may have been?” You were gaining your confidence back, steeling yourself against the immediate shock that had set in since his arrival. You were a doctor for fuck’s sake. 

Choso nodded his head, “yes. Maybe? I don’t know, I blacked out. It was out of it for a few seconds and then Yuji was shaking me.” His breathing was starting to even out, maybe he was calming back down. 

“Okay, and that’s when the fever started?” You couldn’t yet place what the cause of the fever would be. Some kind of poison? Or venom? 

Choso nodded, another groan, pulling him further, prone on the table. He seemed to hate this position, choking out a gasp as he pushed himself up and sat up facing away from you.

“Choso if you’ll just let me take your vitals and a blood test I can probab—-“ you reached out and touched his shoulder. 

His body shivered, he let out a long, low moan. 

He didn’t have to tell you to not touch him, you pulled your hand back so fast you lamented your reflexes had never been so sharp and would never be again. 

He was frozen, you were frozen. You came back to yourself first. 

“I’m sorry, I know you sa—.” You started to panic ramble 

“You should go. Please go.” Choso’s hands gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went from tan to pink to white.   

This was too much, he needed help now, the cold pack had melted completely, faster than you had ever seen, no longer offering its menial relief.

“Choso, I’m your doctor, I can’t leave you. It’s my duty to help you. Please just be honest with me about what you’re feeling, and I can help. I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.” You began to curve around the table to face him. 

His neck was red and wet, muscles straining underneath like angry snakes. He can’t meet your eyes, his mouth is open, panting to pull as much breath as possible, lips wet and drooly. You're too busy scanning his face to see the way he covers his lap with his hands as you approach. 

“Please, let me help.” You reach your hand out to touch him, even with your gloves on and inches away you can feel the heat radiating off his body. 

Finally, finally, he looks at you, urging his body upward into a sitting position. His pupils are huge, brown irises having been consumed by two large, desperate black holes. There are tears in his eyes, dripping into the blood on the bottom half of his face. 

“It hurts. It’s so hot, and everything is so tight and sensitive. I can feel…everything, so much, fuck, it hurts.” He pleads, finally crumbling under the agony. 

You nod and start to mentally run through treatments for the symptoms as he lays them out. Your main concern is his heart, it’s used to overproducing and pumping at will, but this isn’t at his will, and this isn’t in his routine. This is entirely unpredictable. You’re in your head when Choso stops talking, he watches you closely, the drool along his bottom lip starting to build into a drip. He watches you, as you think a million miles away from him, but so close. He isn't sure if you have ever been this close, you have checked in on him hundreds of times, helped him through his training, you have always been so kind to him, even with his…less than glowing personal history, brief as it was. He can smell your perfume, he had smelled it before, soft and light, but this was something different. It smelled so much stronger, sweet and full, enticing, hypnotic. 

“You smell different.” The words leave him before he can even think better of himself, and once he does the words can't stop, “Good. You smell good. Really good.”

He leans closer to you, pulled in by the smell coming from your neck. You don't stop when he comes closer, he doesn’t stop himself when he presses his nose against your neck and inhales. Your body goes completely taut, you can feel the tip of his nose on your neck, you aren’t sure what to do.

“C-choso?” 

One of his big hands moves your hair off your shoulder, then settles on your waist, he pulls you closer, inhaling at your neck again. His other hand finds your hip and pulls you in. 

“You smell so sweet.” he mumbles into your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin, “You feel so good.”

The blood from his face was slowing, the mark shaping itself back into a smaller line, you could feel his pulse slowing. The back of your mind flickered alive, a sneaking thought, something you had never imagined to be true, or to be presenting itself now. A defensive countermeasure some high ranking curses employ in order to redirect the attackers focus. Preying upon the most carnal needs, most commonly manifesting itself as prolonged, continuous sensitivity and sexual arousal. You had only ever read about it in the abstract, you never imagined it was something that was still active, let alone could manifest this intensely. Choso’s hands tighten on your hips. Your throat starts to tighten, you are paralyzed as to what to do, the ethics of helping and not helping racing through your mind.  

You press his shoulder, “Choso. Just a second, you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

He pulls back, suddenly, eyes wide with surprise, unsure of how he had found himself buried in your shoulder, how he had let himself succumb to whims that plagued his mind. He felt his throat closing, his heart racing, the heat in his body rising again faster than before. He felt pathetic, like some animal, some curse, that can’t control himself. And to you, who had been nothing but kind and accommodating with him since he first joined. He stands suddenly, putting as much distance between your bodies as he can. From your smell, from the feeling of your skin, from your soft hair between his fingers. 

“I-I’m, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, go.” He heaves out, “I don’t know if I can control myself.” 

“What you're experiencing is an apex aphrodisiac. It won’t end until it has been expelled from your body, which will probably happen over time. But I have no way of knowing how long the effects will last. It could be hours, Choso, days, even.” 

Some deep ache in his abdomen causes him to double, gripping against the counter top so hard you hear the laminate begin to split. 

“I can hook you up to an IV, keep you hydrated and locked in here until it passes, but there’s no guarantee you can last it. Your internal body temperature keeps rising, and without someone here to keep an eye on you, there’s no telling what that fever will do to your brain. Not to mention your heart.” 

He fights your eyes, glaring instead at his hands in front of him, hands that had been attached to you so recently. Hands that burned against any sensation that wasn’t you. He’s swelling between his legs again, it aches, it's hurting, it's dripping onto his leg. He could hear his molars creaking against one another as he grinds them in a desperate attempt for restraint. You approach so carefully, he doesn't notice you until you're close enough for him to smell that intoxicating aura again. His eyes flutter closed, relief beginning to spread through his body, strained muscles loosening just barely. 

“Or…” You stride forward so carefully, not wanting to scare the desperate, hurt animal caught in a trap in front of you, you see his shoulders slide down his back through the damp fabric of his shirt, “I can help you now.”

Choso’s head whips around so fast that the room spins. He worries that this fever may actually be cooking his brain. Surely there was no way you were actually proposing this, he had to be hallucinating. The arousal plaguing his body had finally taken over his mind and shifted  his reality to fit its sick fantasy.  

You nod at his shocked face, trying to stay as even and professional under the circumstances; God, as if there were any chance of that happening. 

“Choso, listen to me, from what I’ve read, the quickest way, and the only guaranteed way to find any kind of repose, is to…” You blush at your words, the impending reality starting to illuminate far too realistically to be called fantasy, “oh god, I don’t know how to say this. By briefly…succumbing… to the urges, it could rid your body of whatever lingering material is causing you to feel this way, or at least offer some alleviation while your body fights the infection. Like scratching an itch? You shouldn't, cause you may open the wound, but it helps you deal with the pain and discomfort.” 

A thousand thoughts pass between the two of you, nothing spoken. He studies you carefully, desperate for any sign of a practical joke, some ill timed faux solution at his expense. Part of him looked twice as desperately for any sign of attraction from you, something that would show him you have felt the same way as him. That you have wanted this, before it became…medically necessary. 

“You think having sex with you will make it stop?” He says bluntly. 

You blush furiously, feeling embarrassed for even saying it, “It may. But of course, it’s up to you. If you want the IV, we can wait it out, you don't have to decide now. If it’s…me I can-” 

“No!” He shakes his head furiously, “no, it’s not you. I mean it is! Fuck, I mean…”

He can barely think, let alone try and string together the way he feels and has felt. The feelings that he never dared to explore. 

“I didn’t want it like this.” He finally sighs out, resigning himself to a seated position on the floor. 

“You…?” You didn't get it yet. 

“I wanted this, you, but I never wanted it like this.” He presses his back hard against the wall, eyes pulled tight together, blood trickling onto the floor again. 

You got it then. You hadn’t known, never even thought that he would look at you like that, that he would hold feelings for you so privately. He had been so quiet, so brief, so polite. Your heart ached for him, he was so sweet, you had always thought so. Even as brief as his time here had been, you thought it was sweet how dedicated he seemed to fixing his mistakes, to training Yuji, to helping the cause. It had crossed your mind, recently even, how handsome he was. Seeing him in this state, entertaining the idea of fucking him, you found you were heating up, yourself. Your legs squeezing together as he lay before you, so desperate for you. 

“I know it's not what you imagined, but I’d really like to help you.” You join him on the floor, looking up at him from under your dark lashes. 

You lean closer to him, he can smell you again, he can see your lips part, he clears his throat “I don’t just want to scratch the itch.”   

You shake your head, “Then let me help you, let me get it out of you. Choso, please.” 

You lean closer to him, you want to help him. The ache between his legs is getting too much to bear, he is too hot, his clothes are too tight, your smell is overwhelming him. Or maybe that's the fever, maybe he’s losing his mind. He scans your face, it's so beautiful. You are the only person he would want to help him. Maybe this was preordained, it was fate that brought him in here to you, so you could help him. So he could finally be with you, if only for a moment. If only once. 

“Okay.” He nods, one of his hands gripping the back of your neck and pulling you in to meet his lips. 

He can’t help himself, he kisses you with every ounce of himself. Every moment of his century in stasis, every ounce of remorse for the people he has killed, every sleepless night ruminating on his place in this world that barely half of him even belongs in. Your lips on his feel electric, sending the synapses in his brain into overdrive. His tongue wiggles past your parted lips, tasting his first of a mouth besides his own. He moans unabashedly at the taste of you.

It's only then that you even think of him being inexperienced, potentially even a virgin. But the time to discuss that has passed, you can barely get air, let alone a moment to talk. His hands are quick to find your bare skin under your shirt. You feel him trembling, his hands shaking as he kneads the flesh of your sides. The taste of him floods your mouth, copper twinged from the blood on his face, but making your lips and tongue tingle with excitement. His hand finds your bra, taking your right breast into his hand and squeezing hard. You cry out, remembering your hypersensitivity due to your own hormone filled body. He pulls off to look at you, heavy blush in his face, spit connecting your lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you swallow, “I--”

“You’re ovulating.” He finished for you. 

“How di--” 

“You smell different.” He leans into your neck again, inhaling deeply from your pulse point, “I can smell how bad you need this. Just as bad as me. Your body is begging for me.” 

It was like a switch had flipped, the gentle, polite, shy man who had stumbled in was gone. Choso’s teeth found your neck, just scratching before he licks a long stripe from the crook of your shoulder to behind your ear, he squeezes your breast again, just as hard, making you keen back, pressing further into his hand. He decides he has had enough on the floor. He scoops one hand around your back and pulls you up with him, laying you down on the exam table before him. In a flash his shirt is gone, and you are slower to follow. But you remove your coat and your top, leaving you in your bra. Choso attaches himself to your neck against, biting, kissing, sucking, licking, anything he can. One hand holds himself up above you, towering over you more like, the other tugs at the button of your pants. 

“Have you done this before?” He asks you, just as he gets them open. 

You nod, feeling his hair soft against your face.  

He hums, “You’ll have to show me what you like. I promise to do my best. I’m a fast learner.” 

Your heart nearly bursts at the thoughtfulness, “This is about you, Choso. Let me.”

You finally touch him back, moving your hands over his torso, feeling the muscles straining, the heat from him spreading to you. You sit up, slotting your mouths together again, desperate for his kiss and grab for the tie of his pants. He hisses as the fabric brushes past his throbbing, blisteringly hot erection. Finally you undo the knot and his pants are quick to fall to the floor, leaving him naked over you. His tongue moves across yours, massaging, tasting, combining flavors with you. Your hand blindly finds his cock, you take it into your hand and Choso howls, separating your lips. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes screwed up tight. You look between your bodies, to where you're holding him between your still clothed legs, just in time to see the last spurts of cum spill from him, and onto the table. You can't help feeling a little disappointed, having gotten worked up yourself, only to have it end before he ever entered you. But you’re quick to push it away, this isn't personal, it was to help him. Choso catches his breath above you, before looking down to meet your eyes. 

“Do you feel better?” You ask, but you aren't able to finish before he kisses you again, his previous passion now turned up to eleven, his mouth is hotter, he pushes his tongue deeper, his teeth clash against yours, his hand returns to your waistline as he moves to keep undressing you. 

His cock in your hand hasnt retreated, if anything it seems completely unchanged, still raging and red tipped. 

“Choso…?” You whimper against his hungry lips. 

“Please, I need more. Please.”He sounds desperate, almost as if he is begging you

You nod and help him out of your pants, uncaring as they slide though the cum and onto the floor below you. Your heels clatter to the floor as Choso scoops you cup and lays you on your back, folding your legs up. 

“Fuck you’re perfect. I've wanted this for so long. You have no idea.” His voice is low enough he could be talking to himself, were it not for him looking directly at your panties, wet and clinging to your swollen lips, “You’re so wet already. You’re so nice for helping me. Thank you.” 

He slides one thick finger along the part of your lips, still shrink wrapped to the soaked cotton, you bite your lip. The mark on his nose has shifted again, back to the black bar you had grown familiar with, just barely beading up at the very edges. The blush on his face and neck has deepened, it seems his blood is redistributing properly again, aside from his cock, which has made no signs of softening. It still throbbed in your hand, which you kept in a steady, tentative rhythm as he explored you further. His finger slips inside the gusset of your panties, feeling the wetness first hand. 

“You’re so warm inside,” He marvels, again, likely to himself. 

He had come across pornography in the time since his awakening. In his journey to understand the urges of his body, and the innate knowledge that resided within the vessel he now inhabited, he had learned about sex, both for reproduction and for pleasure. He dabbled in masturbation, it was hard not to when discovering the body of oneself. He had watched plenty of movies in the brief instances of down time, many of which outlined the inner workings of sexual relationships on an emotional level. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you, writhing and wet beneath him. He explored your pussy further, the nub of your clitoris against the pad of his finger enough to rouse more cum from him, which lubricated your pumps along the shaft of his cock. It was brief, but the second orgasm made him crumple against your leg, pressed against this shoulder. 

This time you smiled, feeling his warm cum slid down your wrist, “Are you always like this?”

You watched him pant his way through the climax as you brought your messy hand to your mouth, licking it clean, and tasting him. He was sweet, how fitting. He watched you feed yourself his cum and nearly gave you more, drool slips from his mouth and down your leg. You feel it slide down your skin, still too far from your begging pussy, you wanted to feel him there, his mouth, his spit, his cock. The taste of him filled your mouth now, you looked over him carefully as he came back to himself. 

He shook his head, answering you, but looked down at you, meeting your eyes, “my blood goes where i want it, as long as i need it there. No waiting, but I don’t usually cum this much.” 

He was so crass suddenly, you felt your pussy clench, aching to be filled by him. Your body had heated so much, the lace of your bra digging in far too tight, your panties now feeling restrictive. Your clit throbbing along with your racing hard, just barely having been brushed by him. You squirm, hoping that he sees how desperately you need him. And you need him, more than air, more than water, more than anything. The room becomes all there is in the universe, only for the two of you, complete privacy, a perfect oasis for him to fill you over and over and over until the end of time. And he was the perfect one for the job, to go endless rounds, no need for sleep or rest, no refractory periods. He could keep you full, used and full. 

It appeared that the curse’s effects were contagious. You would later speculate that when you ingested his cum, some fraction of the aphrodisiac entered and took host in your body as well. 

Surely that must be the case, what else could explain what you said next. 

“Cho, please, I want you to cum inside, please fill me up. I want it inside, Choso please! I need it, I need you. Please.” you begged, you could barely hear your own voice, but you could see the effect your pathetic keening had on him. 

He tore through your panties in a second, your bra was relieved of duty, likely permanently as he seemed to cut through it just by pulling. The exam table’s icy surface seemed to sizzle against your overheated skin, he moved both your thighs over his shoulders, hands under your buttcheeks, using his thumbs to hold you open for him as he licked a flat tongue over your vulva. You cry out, not caring if your screams travel through the basement floors and up to the populated floors. One lick from him has you cumming so hard your vision goes white. He doesn't stop. Kissing and slurping over and over, you're quivering and shaking, but he can’t stop. The taste of you is too much to give up, even for a second. So sweet, so uniquely you, so intimately for him to enjoy. At this point he holds you up by your hips, as though you are attached to his mouth, your legs wrap around his head, you can't do much else but try to breathe through the intense waves of pleasure that he continues to give you with every flick of his tongue. 

“Choso, please!” You finally cry out, “Please, I need you inside. It's too much, please, baby, I need you.” you pull at his hair, hard enough that you’re sure a weaker, more inhibited man would have wailed. 

But he flicks his eyes up at you pleadingly, not wanting to give you up yet. But seeing your desperate, tear stained face, he relents. He lays you back down, allowing you time to cum down as he wipes a hand over his wet face, using your cum to pump his still aching cock. He squeezes the base, trying not to look too closely, knowing he couldn't cum too soon…again. You gather yourself, pussy weeping onto the table below, but already aching for him again. 

“Lay down,” You tell him, moving onto your knees ungracefully. 

He obeys, laying where you just had been, helping you to move over his lap, settling you just above his standing cock. You keep one hand on his chest, the other grips him again and carefully aligns his tip with your gasping hole. You find his eyes again, as if now is the time to reconsider, but he meets them. He gives you a small nod through hazy eyes, his hair is sticking to his head and his neck, the top of his chest is blotchy and flushed, your wetness makes his chin and jaw shine under the light. He looks beautiful, how could you not have seen it sooner, how magnetic and enticing he was. 

“Please, I want to cum in you,” He begs, breaking you out of your admiration, “Please let me give you my cum, please. Please.” He squeezes your thighs, urging you down. 

You sink down slowly, the feeling of finally being connected, sending you both into fits of pleasure. You can’t stop your hips, as soon as they fall fully and meet his, you fuck yourself back down onto him, starting a pace riding him that would normally be laughably advantageous for you. You just cant stop yourself, the tip of his cock kisses your g spot perfectly, fucking even deeper into you than you thought possible, no vibrator or partner you’d had before had ever made you fee like this.The stretch hurt so good, as you moved over him again and again.  

Choso was just as bad, an absolute mess underneath you. He had no idea what he was in for. Your pussy was so much hotter and tighter than he imagined, it felt like his cock would break off, but he never wanted it to end. He could feel every hitch of your breath though the snug walls flush with his dick, he could feel your heart beating, he thought he could hear your blood moving through your body. He couldn't keep his mouth shut, whimpering, whining, gasping, begging you for … more, … or slower, …  or simply just please. 

please. please baby please. more. fuck. yes more. just like that. fuck. please please please please pleasepleaseplease. too fast, it's too much. too much. fuck. please. don’t stop. please please, don't ever stop.  

He watches you ride him, your breasts bouncing with every lift and drop of your hips. He pushes himself up with one hand, using his knees to move you with him. His shift into a seated position pushes him even deeper inside of you. You arch your back feeling him press against your cervix, whining and pulling him closer to you. He brings your breast to his mouth, biting, sucking, swirling his tongue around your nipple. You struggle to ride him like this, but you grind down on him regardless, the friction of his public hair against your clitrois combined with his work on your nipples, more than enough. You aren’t sure how you’ll ever be able to go without this feeling. You paw at his back and shoulder, wanting to keep him close forever. He coos in your ear something unintelligible about just relaxing and letting him take care of you. 

“You’re so good to me, baby. Let me take care of you. You want to be full, right? Let me fill you up. Thank you.” He coos, moving your hair off your neck and letting him return to his new favorite place, your neck. 

He carries on fucking into you, your clit grinding against his pelvis, his lips on your neck, his other hand holding your flush against his chest. You feel your eyes roll back, your kiss along his head, relishing the sound of him going back and forth between whining and praising you. Your skin is blooming, your thighs are shaking, you feel the swirl of building pressure in your abdomen. 

“Cho….” you whine. 

He carries on pumping his hips, grabbing at your ass, digging in his nails. 

“Me too,” He chokes out, bringing your lips to his as he fucks you both to your peaks. 

A vastly different type of orgasm descends upon you both. Profound and all encompassing. His mouth stays on your as long as he can stand it, leaving humid breaths on your lips before he pulls off moaning and tossing his head back. You feel fat tears roll down your cheeks, Choso buries himself as deep as he can into you, spilling shot after shot of cum into you, you feel him pulsing inside of you. He rakes his nails up your sides, sending you trembling. You whine out, Your body swirls and melts into his. He collapses the pair of you back onto the table, keeping himself sheathed inside of you, not allowing any of his cum to escape you.

 You pant on his chest, pressing your ear to where you can hear his heart beating, it's fast, but not nearly the frenzy it was when he first arrived. His big arms encircle you, your bodies feel warm and hot pressed together, but you can feel the chill of the basement air on the sweat of your back, you feel your own heart slowing as you catch your breath. Your own heart rate is steadying as well, at some point the surrounding area had come back into your view, he had stopped bleeding, and both of you felt the effects of the aphrodisiac leave you.  

Choso lies beneath you, feeling your weight against him, feeling your body tremble in his arms, his cock still feeling the quivering, fluttering walls around him, taking his cum, pulling it deeper inside. He was told early on that biological children weren't in the realm of possibility for him, but he already had his family; his brothers, and the ones they loved. But now, with you rested on top of him, he felt sad knowing despite the timing, and despite his efforts, he would never-- could never give you your own. He realized the curse’s effects had lifted, either from time or sweat or exertion they had been exorcised from his body, and with them went his sureness that this had been a good idea. 

“Choso?” You spoke softly, conspiratorially. 

He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“Do you feel better?” You raised your head to meet his eyes. 

He looked down at you, seeing your warm, kind eyes worrying about him. Surely this couldn’t have just been for today?  

Choso nodded, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer edges in a soft smile, “I think it’s over. My heart is still racing, but I don't think that's the curse anymore.” 

You leaned forward, feeling brave, and a bit anxious from how quiet it felt now that the screaming and moaning and panting had stopped. Connecting your lips again, now that the worst had passed you felt no need to hungirly attack his mouth, neither did he. You gave him the sort of kiss you would have given him if he came to you with his feelings and had taken you out. You weren’t the sort of people to be able to go out very often, but whatever date it may have been, wouldn’t have been as successful as this bizarrely unorthodox first encounter. When the kiss was over you tried to move off of him, but he held you down, pumping his softening dick into you once more. You let out a high shaky breath, almost giggling. 

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to just scratch the itch with you.” Choso cups your face in his hand, making you look at him, “I know I’m not your best choice for…someone to be with…I can’t give you a family or guarantee you a future. But I will keep you safe and treat you well.” 

You feel your heart swell at his admission, and more so at the look in his deep, sad eyes, a look that wants nothing more than to be understood, and cared for. 

“Well, I don’t know about forever, but how about after we clean up here. You and I go to dinner and we figure out where to go from here. I like you a lot, Choso. Like, a looooot.”

You punctuate your sentence with a clench of your pussy around him, making him gasp and grip your hips again. You start to laugh and he swats at your butt. 

“I’m serious. After this we have a lot to talk about, but I know that I’m glad we did this.” You suddenly feel shy, despite how bare you have already been. 

Choso smiles again, a contemplative smile, but an honest one, he holds your hips again, “Ready?” 

You nod and move with him as he guides you off his lap, moving to the side so you can lie next to him. He keeps one hand on your waist, not wanting to be parted from you yet. You push some of his hair back on his head, tracing your finger down the slope of his nose, then over his top lip. Choso soaks in everything you give him, sighing blissfully occasionally, so unafraid to make sounds and show you how he feels about you. You're inexperienced with men so open, and so willing to express it abstractly, or at all. You find that Choso makes you nervous, the enigma of his shy, stoic nature, and his desire to be known and understood, compounded with a half curse’s worth of shamelessness. You smile at him again sitting up on the table. 

“I’m willing to bet Shoko has at least one cigarette in here. I know it's a bit cliche, but I can dig around for it if you’re interested.” You stretch a bit, already starting to feel the lactic acid building in your body. 

“I’ve never smoked before.” He shrugs, leaning on his elbow. 

You sit up, not worried about covering yourself and begin rummaging through drawers. You found a pack in the second one you opened, slipped one out and then had to search for a lighter, which proved harder to find. But a long forgotten box of matches sat in the bottom drawer of the desk. Choso watched as you searched, admiring seeing your body in so many shapes, at so many angles. It was so beautiful to see the human form so relaxed and unposed, he had to fight the lump in his throat back down, so as to not disrupt you with his emotion. YOu climbed back up to the table and lit the small, thin cigarette. You inhaled and blew out a plum of soft grey smoke before passing it to him. He followed your lead, feeling the smoke slide down his throat, burning on the way down. He quickly exhaled, not wanting the taste to overpower yours on his tongue. 

“Not for you, huh?” You took another drag. 

He shook his head, “Maybe another time.” 

You hummed to yourself, taking in the room around you. Choso had no interest in the room, only to watch you leisurely inhaling and exhaling. He thought that all the movies he had seen had gotten it wrong, that while he didn’t know exactly what it was he was feeling, he knew that no one could have ever felt like this. You turned back to him, another beautiful smile coloring your face. 

“There is a locker room down the hall, we can get cleaned up.” 

“Together?” He reaches for you. 

“Sure, Cho.” You leaned in and kissed him again, your fingers under his chin tilting his face up to you. 

You got up from the table, haphazardly draping your coat around yourself, avoiding as much of the cum that had pooled as possible. You offered him his, mostly, unstained trousers. Which he shuffled in to. You discarded the cigarette and hung on the door, turning back to face him. He was still watching you, picking up left over clothes, brushing his sweaty hair back. 

“Coming?”You flirt. 

He feels his face heat up and nods, watching you leave down the hall. He grabs the last of your discarded clothes, replaying the events of the last few hours in his mind. 

“Cho…” he whispers to himself, a little celebration, before following you down the hall. 

Your evening with your vibrator was long forgotten as you made your way to the locker room, with something far more enticing catching up closely behind. 

I hope y'all enjoyed!!! I really hope i can keep this moment going and get out some of the ideas i have had over the last two months! Cause i've been thinkin big thoughts!!! I cant believe there are almost 200 of us on here, I'm so flattered and grateful! Thanks for indulging me with this one. Love you, see you next time! -- Doodle. <3

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Im playing stardew valley for the first time and this man has done something to my brain

redraw of the one harvey drawing i did that i love heheheh also some extra harvey’s as a treat <3

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i said it was my favorite piece of media that i’ve hyperfixated on since the tender age of 12 and have not let go of since. i didnt say it was a Good piece of media

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AGAIN

I found my Eva Title Card Generator tab again

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Also the platform I was using to make my collages was taken down so I can’t use it anymore. I have a backup one that I hope will work! I love making those

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Waking up with Toji’s hands on your body. MDNI

The bed sinking under his weight, the smell of unfamiliar sweat and soap filling your nose, soaking into your sheets. Your eyes fluttered, barely able to register to difference between lidded and the dark of your bedroom. The large, tightly muscled arm draped over you was firm and tight, his hand clapped over your chest. Not pressing the bruises left from last night, but firm and unmovable. Stirring yourself awake you feel the hand travel down your body, across the soft hair of your stomach, over the curve of your hip. His once even, slumbered breath was becoming thick and warm against your neck. it didnt seem possible for your bodies to be closer, but still he pulled you flush against his body. You could feel the muscles in his stomach contract as he gripped your hip tighter. You hadn't yet spoken, or greeted the morning but you could feel the heat pressing against the flesh of your ass. The motion, while it required no effort on your part, ignited the sore points on your body and pulled a deep groan from you.

"Sore, huh?" His voice was thicker and deeper than it had been the previous night. The baritone in your ears sent chills down your body remember how just his words had reduced you to a simmer mere hours earlier.

further.........there you go.........take it..........good...................cum

Feeling the goosebumped flesh along your electrified body, Toji finally moved his hand between your legs, feeling the soft, warm skin of your thighs. It was his turn to groan, to relish in the feeling of your heated, intimate skin.

"Think you can take it again?" Toji's lips brush your neck as he speaks, punctuating his sentence with a kiss on the thin, fragile point between your neck and your ear.

He’s already lifting your leg over his own before you finish nodding. Still open and prepped from last night his thick fingers can slide inside so easily. He tuts mockingly as you inhale at his penetration.

"still stretched for me." His tongue slides around the shell of your ear, then down your neck as he presses further.

You know that despite how his fingers stretch you, his cock is even meaner. you can feel it swelling more against you, the heat of his blood making the air under the comforter humid and sticky. he opens you up wider, making you bury your head into the pillow, your whines fading from his earshot. His fingers leave you, now you're trembling, aching to be filled by him. His wet fingers turn your face to meet his eyes, the room is still dark, it's hard to see, but the green of his eyes catches the light slipping in between the curtains enough to show the fire of desire burning inside. His mouth covers your whimpers as he presses himself into you. filling and filling, finally full. Your trembling evolves into shakes as his hips meet yours. You can feel how deep he is, surely he must be pressing against the front of your stomach now. Before your moans can escape, Toji's tongue steals them from your mouth so he can taste them for himself. His kisses are hot, sloppy. His hand holds your hip for support at he starts to thrust in and out of you. The full length of his cock sliding against every muscle of your hole. HIs rhythm isn't the fast, bruising pace from last night. The pace that made you scream, made your breath catch, made tears fill your eyes as you were overtaken by pleasure over and over with no signs of stopping. It's slow and even, deep and deeper than you thought you could take. Even now he still demonstrates how easy it is for him to overwhelm you.

Your hands find his body, pulling at the flesh of his hip, unclear to even yourself if you were begging for more or for mercy. either way, it didn't matter to him. His kisses got harder, his teeth making themselves known as he bit your lips. The hand he kept on your hip finds where you are grabbing at him, he takes your hands and moves it to his neck, you can feel the coarse black hair at the base of his neck, how the ropey muscle of his neck leads down his back, and up to the base of his skull. his own hands scan over every inch of your body. your hips, your stomach, your chest, your neck. His hands wont stop moving, his hips keep their even pace, his lips grow swollen and puffy from the kisses.

You can't tell anymore where he is touching you, it feels like everywhere at once, whether its his lips, his hands, his legs tangling with yours, his cock burying itself over and over inside of you. All that exists is him, the bed your bodies merge on, and your shared breaths puffing out between wet, sticky kisses.

The orgasm he pulls from you sneaks up just as readily as to be expected from someone as skilled and stealthy as Toji. Sudden and all encompassing. He feels you clench up around him, stilling him movement. He pulls off your lips, letting your pant and moan freely into the dark room. The wave of climax crests and wanes, leaving your legs and sheets sticky where the two of you are still connected. Seeing your orgasm begin to leave you, he pulls meanly at one of your puffy nipples, making you cry out in overstimulation.

"Not done yet."

He carries on fucking himself into your worn, sticky hole. He feels freer now, your orgasm relaxing your tight muscles, making his thrusts easier. You hear the smacking sound of his ass hitting his hips over and over, you have to bury yourself into the pillows once again to keep from screaming out as he uses you to chase his own release. One of his rough hands finds the bruised handprint of last night and uses it to pull you into him over and over, the other slides up your back to the roots of your hair and tugs tightly. Not pulling you back to his chest, but holding you in place as he fucks you.

"T-Tooojiii...." You whimper out, voice shaky and soft.

"Almost. You can take it." He shushes you.

You nod, his grip in your hair truncating your movement.

Finally his swollen cock twitches, his hips push deeper, slower, they stay pressed against yours longer. Finally he encases himself completely and spills his hot cum inside of you. The rough moan he lets out is barely audible, but you savor every decibel you can pick up. Once he has emptied himself totally, he pulls your back against his chest once more, wrapping those massive arms around you, keeping you in place. You're in nearly the same position you had been in when you were asleep, now filled to the brim, and corked to keep any of him from leaving you.

You both catch your breath, the room is humid, sticky, sunlight is starting to penetrate the dreamy, eroticism of your private morning. You wonder what a day with him will bring, everything was so new with him, you were unsure if you would ever have seen him in the sunlight. You had almost expected him to be gone when you woke up, but here he still was. And here, inside of you he was remaining. The bruises on your body, the stickiness between your legs, the hickies on your neck, the smell of him on your body and on your sheets. You hadn't yet allowed yourself to think that this Adonis would be a regular presence in your life, but maybe this is exactly what this morning meant. Maybe this would be every morning. Warmth began to fill your chest, that exciting sparkler like anticipation of a new love.

Toji's voice broke your revelry, it was flat, "Think you could give me a ride downtown? I gotta meet up with someone."

Maybe not....

Love you guys, I hope you liked this quicky steamy silliness. I promise I have stuff I'm working on, life is a little crazy right now so I havent really had time to write but Im hoping to have some more stuff for you soon! Also YAY TOJI! Be back soon! let me know what you think! -Doodle xx

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Happy birthday to AO3 🎂🎉

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i want to put that glasses chain in my mouth

before // during work 👓

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Just wanted to ask if u write female characters x male readers to?

Also what other fandoms do u write for besides JJK, Naruto & CSM?

I absolutely would! I just haven’t yet, but I would 100% be open to it.

So far that’s all I’ve written for but i would be open to other things, provided I was familiar enough to the media.

Anything specific you’ve got in mind, anon?? I’d love to see if it something we have in common!

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oh.

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remember when u were like 11 and the only thing u wanted was a lava lamp