#i have no personal experience with sounds like a uh

[broodsys]

sigh! wanted to make a new recipe, FINALLY had the energy AND will to try smth new, and we! don’t! have! a fucking normal muffin tin!!!!!! so i can’t. and now im tired from searching so even if we get one it’s gonna have to wait for the stars to perfectly align once more for me to try this

[mrfoox]

Obv I'm not a professional and not trying to be but like since I've gotten my autism/add diagnose I really am super sensitive to pick up such traits in other people

[cryptidspaz]

mm.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down. 

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.” 

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them. 

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint. 

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office. 

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again. 

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground. 

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner. 

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone. 

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl. 

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates. 

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around. 

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe. 

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves. 

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing. 

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination. 

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though. 

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman. 

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction. 

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen. 

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone. 

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits. 

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself. 

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land. 

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though. 

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet. 

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk. 

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside. 

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit. 

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you. 

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds. 

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so. 

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey. 

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies. 

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs. 

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately. 

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.” 

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch. 

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter. 

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you. 

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice. 

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible. 

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom. 

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss. 

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.” 

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them. 

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind. 

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle. 

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo. 

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror. 

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises. 

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle. 

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip. 

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading. 

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached. 

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.” 

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl. 

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles. 

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you. 

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him. 

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in. 

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had. 

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can. 

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur: 

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

--

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

[love-bitesx]

okay but imagine pavitr trying to play wingman for hobie to get with the reader and how funny/cute it would be

longer requests will be out this week, thank u all for the amazing support!! love you guys sm

: ̗̀➛ WINGMAN. hobie brown x reader headcanons

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

oh, he would be so annoying. in the best way.

you’d joined the spider society not long after the others, immediately clicking within the dynamic and it wasn’t uncommon for you all to just hang out in each others dimensions after a mission.

at first, hobie thought you’d simply peaked his interest because of your unspoken nature. constantly standing up for yourself and other spider people, putting people in their place if need be, just your general backbone intrigued him. you felt different to the others. that’s all he thought.

that was, until one afternoon, you were all packed into your apartment, music playing from the stereos and pavitr talking everybody’s ear off about god knows what. hobie had been silent for a while, no reason in particular, he’d been fiddling with the badges on his leather vest, in his own little world. well, until he felt a hand on his knee.

“hobie,” your voice was low, subtle, hanging just below the decibels of the melodies booming through the room, “are you alright? you’ve been quite quiet.”

“oh, uh,” he was taken aback, possibly by your hand that still lingered on his jeans, or how close he suddenly realised you were, seeing the soft details of your face and pigment in your cheeks for the first time, “yeah, no, i’m fine.” he cleared his throat.

smiling back at him, you took your hand away, moving back to get involved in the conversation again, not thinking much of it. regretfully, hobie looked up and saw pavitr staring at him, clearly having watched the ordeal and the excited smirk on his face told him that he’d definitely seen hobie flustered. he sighed.

after pavitr worked out that hobie had a thing for you, it was over for him.

he couldn’t even LOOK in your direction, without the shorter man hopping into his personal space, nudging him hard in the ribs, singing something about kissing in a tree.

constant comments about you to hobie

“y/n, i love your shirt! hobie, doesn’t it look so cool?”

“y/n! hobie told me to tell you he loves your shoes.”

“doesn’t y/n look sooo nice today! huh? hobie? what do you think?”

he was in hell, actually.

there was only so many "yeah, nice" he could say to you before he started to sound like a prick

on missions, he was insufferable

constantly making you guys work together somehow

“miguel, i think me and gwen work best as a team, don’t you think? y/n and hobie should do this one together”

swinging through the streets of whichever earth you were sent to, hearing distant yells of pavitr calling after you both “aren’t they cute together?!”

“good morning, hobie,” you grinned, sleep still evident in your voice as you wandered into the headquarters, beckoning to miguel’s very early morning mission call.

god, he was so thankful to have you alone for once. relief settled itself on his shoulders at the absence of his best friends’ watchful eye, happy to interact with you comfortably.

“mornin’,” he spoke, stretching his legs mindlessly out across the length of the desk, leaning back onto his arms, “how’d you sleep?”

“oh my god, i had the weirdest dream—” you begun, hopping up onto the adjoining surface, eyes lit up with passion as you ranted about the dream you had just resurfaced from.

he watched you the whole time, lips curling into a smile at the way you threw your hands around in the air as you spoke, reeling into every detail about your nonsensical experience. nodding every so often, he was almost enthralled by you – taking this peaceful moment as an advantage to see you properly. you were tired, sleep still evident in your eyes, hair a little chaotic in places, but the soft glow that it gave you made his heart skip.

he’d totally lost himself in speaking to you, listening to the excitement lacing your voice, that he didn’t realise other people had arrived.

well, until he felt a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“you guys are so cute together!” pavitr’s sing-song voice pierced hobie’s ears, shocked at the newcomers, “i saw the way you looked at them, loverboy.”

the nickname stuck

he’d been addressed more by “loverboy” than his own name, and his insides churned every single time

even gwen started calling him it, to which hobie would send a threatening glare

when you eventually did end up seeing each other, whether that be dating or other stuff, you both swore to keep it a secret

hobie refused to give pavitr the satisfaction of knowing he was right

so you would sneak around together, kissing in places you shouldn’t, stealing knowing glances in meetings, secret touches when no one was looking

he loved the risk of it all

but it was one afternoon, you’d both slipped away into an empty lab at the spider society headquarters, giggling to each other like kids as he dragged you into the vacant room

his hands were all over you, lips brushing whatever skin he could see, your arms slung around his neck as you kissed him

“did you lock the door?” you asked

“i thought you did.”

“OH. MY. GOD.” a third voice yelled.

you yelped, jumping away from hobie as a last ditch effort to maybe save some face

it was too late, pavitr stood there, mouth agape

hobie sighed, hanging his head

“GWEN! THEY DID IT!”

pavitr stepped back into the hallway and ran down towards where you’d both left them, his voice carrying through the metal walls

“LOVERBOY DID IT!”

you stood there, unsure whether if you just remained still, you could avoid whatever consequences you both faced

that was, until you felt hobie’s arm slide around your waist, pulling you back into him, an unintelligible look on his face

“we can’t keep it a secret anymore, i guess.” you spoke first, he let out a laugh

“i don’t think that’s such a bad thing,” he kissed you, softly.

a/n: hope this was okay!! currently got a bunch of requests in the works, so keep an eye out for more!!! also anymore headcanon ideas would be so fun!! thank u

[evie-sturns]

ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: chris has always been your best friend until one night everything changes when you lose your virginity to him.

contains: smut, gentle chris, swearing, fluff.

———------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------——

chris and i tell eachother everything, i mean everything. we've been friends since the 6th grade and have no secrets, except for one. i'm a virgin. in my defence hes never really asked but its my biggest insecurity

its 11pm, me, nick, matt, chris and madi are sitting on the sturniolos couch, im cuddled against nick as matt and chris scroll on their phone.

madi is talking about a hookup experience right infront of us. ive never really hung out with her alone but she seems to overshare. a lot. "y/n, you know how when then finish they make strange ass noises?" she continues "mhm.." i lie, "but oh my god he was making demonic sounds like what the fuck" she says laughing.

after 5 more minutes of her talking, i feel humiliated, everyone else in the room except for me is laughing along with her and agreeing.

she wont stop.

i grab my phone then stand up off the couch, walking out of room in and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. i hear the living room go silent apart from a few whispers "chris go see whats wrong!" i hear nick say quietly and then shuffling, followed by 3 knocks on the bathroom door.

"y/n? you okay?" i hear chris say softly.

"please go away chris."

"im not gonna go away sweetheart, please talk to me." chris whispers through the door.

after a few minutes i unlock the door. chris opens it slowly to find me inside, eyes puffy from the few tears i shed. "oh y/n.." chris says sympathetically before pulling me into a hug, rubbing my back. "c'mon, lets go to my room so you can talk to me." he offers and i nod. he takes my hand as we open the door to his bedroom.

he sits down on the floor, resting his back against the side of his bed. i sit down next to him and lay my head on his shoulder.

i take a deep breath "im a virgin." i say bluntly, but quietly. he tenses slightly then nods understandably.

"and its fucking embarrasing when madis talking about fucking random dudes infront of me, its quite frankly humiliating." i continue "because im almost 21 and ive never done anything." i sigh.

an uncomfortable silence grows for a few seconds "this might be weird, and if you dont want to we can never talk about any of this again, but i could.." he pauses

"i could help..?" he says nervously

"help?" i repeat, slightly confused.

"i mean we've been best friends for like 9 years, i could y'know. teach ya? like platonically though." he says holding my hand.

another silence grows.

"okay!" i say nervously

"ok?" he whispers

"you can, lead the way?" i offer and he smiles.

he stands up, before leaning down and pulling me up by my wrists. we're both clearly nervous. "do i uh, have your like.. full consent?" he says concerned and i let out a small laugh "yes chris, you do, you're the person im most comfortable with."

he lifts his shirt off over his head, i blush, why am i blushing?

he throws his shirt to the floor before pulling mine off, revealing my white bra, which he quickly unclasps. he leans down and grabs my jaw, pulling me into a soft kiss. my heart rate increases as i realise this is chris, my best friend.

he picks me up by my ass and places me gently on my back on his mattress, the same one that we were giggling on yesterday. he pulls down my shorts, then my panties. leaving me revealed on the bed. he looms over me before pulling me by my thighs to the edge of the bed. he leans down between my thighs, his cold breath against my heat.

he drags his tongue all the way from my hole to my clit forcing a desperate moan out of me. "tastes so fucking good." he mumbles which causes me to squirm. he stands up and unbuckles his leather belt, letting it fall to the floor before he unbuttons his baggy jeans.

he stands in-between my legs in his boxers, it feels wrong, but so fucking right. "you ready baby?"

baby?

"im nervous chris, what if it hurts."

"dont be, it doesnt have to hurt, mhm?" he says reassuringly as he nods his head at me.

"i trust you chris.." i say smiling as he grabs the inside of my thigh "can you spread a little more?" he says and i comply.

after what feels like forever he pulls down his boxers slowly, letting his boner spring out, hitting his stomach. i instantly sit up in shock "chris-." i stutter as i look up at him

"you're okay, it wont hurt if you relax. ill go super slow hm?" he reasures and i nod.

"lay back down princess." he whispers.

i lay back down and reach for chris's hand, its always been a comfort thing for me and right now i need it more than ever.

his dick is strangely perfect.

i take a deep breath and squeeze chris's hand as his tip pushes against my entrance. he pushes slowly inside of me, giving me only an inch or two. "fuck you're so tight." he groans making my stomach flip. "you look so beautiful taking me mhm."

as he sinks deeper into me, his balls lightly pressing against my ass.

the same boy who i used to beg to play barbies with me is now balls deep inside of me.

im a moaning mess as chris giggles slightly

"what the fuck is funny chris" i say smiling

"your moans." he says nonchalantly as he starts to thrust, kissing my cervis each time

"shut up.." i say in between moans as i squeeze his hand tighter.

without warning he pulls out which causes me to immediately grab him and pull him closer "i didnt finish chris!" i say frustrated

"shh sh, i know i know, i want you to ride me. can you do that for me?" he says which almost makes me orgasm from his words.

"okay."

he lays down beside me and grabs my waist pulling me ontop of his so im sitting on his thighs. i prop myself up above his tip as he grabs my hips. i slowly sink down on him, feeling every inch of him filling me up. i moan loudly causing him to slam a hand over my mouth "shh." he whispers as i bounce up and down, i squeeze my eyes shut as my moans are muffled by his hand.

"y/n baby, im close okay? i want you to cum with me." he groans as i bounce faster on his cock

"you ready?" he says as his breathing becomes quicker. i nod as i clench around him, instantly making him release inside of me. i follow right after him as i collapse on his chest, he reaches a hand down pulling himself out of me.

he holds me tight against his chest, my breasts push against his hard chest while he grabs my ass. "you did so fucking good, so good." he whispers into my hair. "you want me to get you dressed baby?" he offers and i nod, sitting up on his stomach. he sits up and i slide off him onto his bed. as he stands up, he holds up my panties and shoves them in his pocket. before i have time to question it hes pulling me onto my feet.

he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. i squeal as he keep a firm grip on my thigh. pulling my shorts onto me. he places me back down onto my feet and puts my bra on. "is this right" he says with a slight laugh "yeah surprisingly!!" i say with a wide grin before pulling my shirt on.

chris finishes getting dressed and plants another kiss on my lips "was that okay for you? i hope it didnt hurt" chris asks softly "yeah it felt.. really fucking good chris." i say wiping my eyes in embarrassment.

he grabs my hand and takes me into the living room. nick is looking at chris with disgust and everyones dead silent "did you guys just fuck." matt says breaking the silence and my heart drops to my stomach

"what.." i say defensivley

"the load ass moans?" nick yells angrily.

the silence grows as chris looks like hes seen a ghost as i look up at him

chris suddenly starts "she got her period, so i took her up to my room so she could grab some fucking.. products. she was crying, they may of sounded like moans to you but she was just upset." he lies so confidently straight through his teeth which almost makes me burst out laughing.

"so im taking her home alright?" chris continues.

"shit sorry guys." nick says embarrassed "see you tommorow y/n, feel better" matt says and i smile at him.

(4 weeks later)

"hey baby, i got you these!" chris says walking into my bedroom with flowers "for what exactly" i say laughing "one month anniversary dumb fuck." chris says giving me a kiss on my lips.

4 weeks ago when he dropped me off he confessed to me.

he said he'd liked me for a while now, as in 5 years.

i hated to admit it, but i had felt the same.———------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------——

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 42 || The Assumption

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & heavy sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——HOW LONG WERE HIS eyes on yours? Did he see you checking him out? Holy shit you're sweating now. Is this how Ino felt just a few moments ago because as you met Nanami's eyes, chills slithered down your spine and you swallowed hard due to the eye contact.

Nanami opens his mouth and you swear every second is killing you. "I've seen you before," He points out.

And boom, you're a mess already. His voice is so damn sexy you don't think you're going to be able to have a calm conversation like you planned to.

You just nod for a second and then you get the words out, "Y-Yeah, I've seen you before too."

Get yourself together woman.

Nanami narrows his eyes at you, "You were in Mr. Fushiguro's room that one time." He recalls.

Your brows furrow. Oh, that's what he remembers you from? Not the weeks you've been in the same building as him or even the times you bumped into him on 'accident'?

"U-Uh, yeah, I was." You nod again, the motion done slowly as you try to collect yourself.

The sound of Ino snickering nearby helps you snap out of your daze. "Not so confident now, hmmmm?" Ino teases, his words making you turn your head to him.

"Hush," You say with a playful glare.

Nanami raises a brow, his eyes yet to leave you. While you checked him out, he had long since done that from the moment he walked in and saw you chatting it up with Ino.

You then return your attention to Nanami after making back-and-forth silly faces to Ino before his attention is called elsewhere. Now you are alone with Nanami...

You swallow and take a deep breath. You swear you've been rehearsing this moment for months now, "Nanami Kento, right?"

He nods, just barely, "Mhm."

Is he even interested in anything you have to say? What's with the simple hum...?

Turning a decent portion of your body to him, you flash a kind smile, "I've been wanting to talk to you, y'know..."

"Have you?" Nanami asks, stern eyes boring into your own.

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah," God you need to stop stuttering. "I was just wondering if-"

"Sorry but," The man interrupts, almost as if he knew what your intentions were. "I don't sleep with women I've just met."

You blink. Oh, you're just baffled by his words. What the hell does he mean by that? And why did he say it so suddenly?? He can't just know you're talking to him because of Gojo... right?

"Uhm," You scoff, "Excuse me?"

Nanami's eyebrows raise for a moment, "Sorry, am I misinterpreting something?"

"Yeah, actually," Technically, no. But you were going to try to have an actual conversation with him before making any moves so it's almost rude of him to say such a thing to you, "You major in business, yes?"

He's almost thrown off by you and his head nods, now he's embarrassed he made a mistake. "Yeah-, yes, I do." Nanami stumbles over his words a bit.

"Right, well I'm a psychology major and I'm trying to land an internship at our university," You start explaining to him. Everything you're about to say is some bullshit you've come up with to have a conversation about but, you're sure it'll work out. "As of now, I was doing a personal study about which students in what majors experience more stress and I plan to use that data to get this position so,"

And that's when he realized he fucked up with his assumption. Nanami stares and his words come out very slowly, "...You're here to study me?"

"I prefer the term interview but, yes." You hum.

He grows a bit more serious, "I see. Well, I apologize for my earlier assumption, I just thought..." Nanami trails off a little and you watch the way he glances down.

You follow his gaze and look down at yourself. Then, you scoff again, the sound making him tense up in embarrassment and a bit of shame, "Did you assume I was some kinda' whore?" You ask bluntly.

His entire body freezes and he's visibly worried, his gaze flicking right back up to your own as he swallows, "I don't mean any offense by my assumption. It's just... Not that you look like a prostitute but, I get approached like that often and-"

"So, you thought I was a whore?" You repeat. Again, he's nervous and this time he avoids your eyes, the sight of him slightly fearful making you smirk.

"I'm sorry but, yes." Nanami says honestly, "That's my mistake, truly."

"Right..." You say dryly, your tone making him uneasy. "Well, it's a common mistake, unfortunately," You murmur, thinking back to Sukuna who previously joked about it to you, "But you can make it up to me."

Those stern eyes of his snapback over to you, "How uh, how so?" Nanami stammers, clearly again assuming you mean something else.

You chuckle and playfully hit his arm, "By letting me interview you, of course!" Your voice is suddenly cheerful and it makes him relax.

Nanami sighed heavily and then straightened up in his seat, visibly pulling himself together after the little mishap that occurred. "Right, of course." He says.

Your hand goes to your glass, "Did you assume I meant some other form of making it up to me?" You ask tauntingly.

"No," Nanami claims, his voice light, "Of course not."

You have one leg crossed over the other so you subtly move it and make light contact with his shin using the tip of your heel. Nanami's entire body goes rigid but he hopes you don't notice it.

"Of course not?" You repeat, chuckling a bit, "It's okay if you thought I meant something else, y'know."

He swallows, "I didn't." The man replies as he tears his eyes from you, glances down at your foot against him, ignores it, and then goes for his drink.

"I mean," You tip your head to the side and your confidence has returned to you, courtesy of your liquid courage coursing through you, "If you have another way to make up for mistaking me for a prostitute, I'm all ears, Mr. Nanami."

The title makes him swallow again, his Adam's apple seen moving down and then up in a slow manner. "I have no other way in mind, unfortunately." Nanami states simply, flicking his gaze to you for a moment, "Sorry to disappoint."

You grin, "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. It just seemed like you had an idea in mind so," You shrug.

He stares for a second, thinking for a long moment before taking his eyes off you again, "Are you insinuating something right now?"

"No?" You laugh, "But, although I'm no whore, you are an attractive man so, naturally, I'm curious what you thought I meant when I said you could make it up to me."

Nanami sucks in a deep breath of air and then takes another sip of the drink he's had prepared for him. Then, as he places it down with a light tap to the bar, he turns his head to you, "Is this a part of your interview?" Nanami questions, raising a brow, "Is this some kind of reverse psychology question that'll help you get to know me?"

"There's no reverse psychology in my question at all," You giggle, "I'm being rather direct with you." The feeling of your heel slipping up his leg slightly makes him tense up, "First you assume I'm a whore, and then you think I'd want something naughty from you for doing so."

That statement causes the man to choke a bit, "N-Naughty?" He echoes, following the question with a hefty clearing of his throat and a turn of his head, "What-, I... I wasn't-"

You smile at the man and notice the tips of his ears are shaded the lightest bit of pink, "It's okay if you assumed that, y'know..."

Nanami keeps his gaze straight, "I did not-"

You move, leaning to his ear for a moment, "I'm no prostitute but, the more I talk to you, the more I think you'd prefer it if I was."

A sharp breath of air is sucked in and he doesn't dare to look at you. With a chuckle, you pull away, your eyes never leaving his face. It's so clear you have him nervous now, men like him are rather easy to work around. Show them you're not a whore but you wouldn't mind being treated like one and all of a sudden they don't know what to do with themselves.

The blond turns his head away completely, taking in the scenery of the rest of the bar before then turning back to you, "So what is it you want from me? Be honest. I can't tell if you're here for knowledge or..."

"Or?" You hum, raising a brow.

"Or if you're here to seduce me." Nanami finishes.

You shrug, "Maybe both."

It was like you could see the gears in his head turning, like he was in deep thought as his brown eyes met yours. Then, his brows tense slightly, "I didn't consider both..."

And just like that, you have an idea of where you can take this. "You should've." You reply.

"I am now." The blond responds, weighing his head to the side slightly as he maintains eye contact.

You pinch your brows together, "Mr. Nanami, have you ever slept with someone after meeting them at a bar?"

He freezes but you have him interested, so after a moment, "No, why?" He questions in return.

"Are you open to?" You proceed. And no, you're not trying to seduce him just yet. Instead, your plan here is to have him be the one to pine after you.

Nanami swallows and he's very careful with his words, "Typically no."

You pick up on it instantly, "Typically?"

"I may do something different tonight," Nanami explains, finally turning away from you. He glances past you a bit, watching Ino attend to others further down the bar.

"Yeah?" You grin, "And what's changed your mind?"

The male in front of you keeps his eyes away from your own but all his attention is still on you, "A woman who's intrigued me."

"And who might that be?" You quiz further.

He scoffs lightly, "Obviously, you."

And just like that, you've got him exactly where you wanted him. Now it was part of the next part of your plan where you reverse the flirting and force him into a situation where he reveals more of his thoughts and flirts with you.

You definitely have the alcohol in your system to thank for how smoothly this is going so far, "I'm flattered but, when I asked my question, I wasn't offering to do so."

Nanami grows embarrassed again, assuming he's made some kind of mistake as he shifts his gaze to you, "Oh, I-"

"I'm not a whore," You sigh, "But I do notice that sex-pertained questions always get the best answers out of men so," You shrug. "That was my first."

He catches on and nods his head, the slightest and simplest smirk spreading across his peach-tinted lips, "So... the interview has started now...?"

"It has," You say enthusiastically, "I'm glad you're keeping up with me."

Amusement sparks across the male's expression, "Cleaver woman you are."

"Mhm, I'm aware," You hum, smiling at him cheerfully.

With a sigh, Nanami places every ounce of his focus onto you, "Alright then, what's your next question for me?"

"Don't get too excited, not all of them are about sex." You say with a laugh, "Only the first one was. Y'know, to gain your attention since you already thought I was a hooker."

He swallows, "I really am sorry about that."

"You'll make up for it, relax," You brush off.

Then this 'interview' of yours proceeds and you ask him more mellow questions, questions that are rather simple and just help you get to know him. Such as asking about his age, whether or not he has a job, and what his day-to-day schedule looks like.

You continue the conversation, delving deeper into Nanami's personal life and interests. Asking him about his hobbies, interests, and goals for the future, all of which is done to make it seem like you're actually going to use this information. Nanami opens up more as the conversation flows, his stern demeanor softening ever so slightly.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As you engage in the interview, there's this underlying look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol the two of you consumed but there were definitely some teasing touches and glances throughout all the talking.

Before you realized it, your questionnaire had transitioned into simply just two adults conversing. It was almost as if you'd approached the man naturally. He told you how his major in business was done with the intent of becoming the CEO of some famous company one day.

The surrounding nightclub is almost forgotten with how engaging the conversation carried on to be. Every time you made the stiff man laugh your heart would flutter a bit. You were beyond thankful for the drinking because it was clear that's what was opening him up to you.

Ino was to thank as well, as he had come to the two of you multiple times to offer another round, flashing you a cute smile and a taunting thumbs up to encourage you with Nanami.

Unbeknownst to you, your starting question weighed heavily on the man's mind. Your foot would constantly brush up against his leg and every time you giggled, he felt odd. Not to mention the sultry look in your eyes as you intently watched him speak.

Your eyes were on his lips at one point and your staring made him stammer for a moment before he decided to just point it out in hopes you would focus elsewhere. Nanami leaned in a bit and a gentle hand went to your chin, tipping your face up and trying to force your gaze to his.

"I understand you're interested in what I have to say but please," Nanami's voice is still as deep as ever but it's more relaxed and almost soft, "Keep your eyes on mine."

You're slow to drag your vision upward, "Can you handle that?"

The question throws him off and his brows push together, "I have been all this time, haven't I?"

You tilt your head and lean closer to the man, one of your hands suddenly going to his thigh to hold yourself up, "Not the whole time, no."

"Really?" He hums, ignoring how close your face is to his, "Where else have my eyes been? Hm?"

You giggle and pull your lower lip into your mouth. It's so obvious that you're slightly intoxicated, "Your eyes have been all over me," You say, your voice suddenly dropping into a whisper, "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

He tenses as your hand starts caressing his thigh, trying to ignore the sensation. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I've kept my eyes on respectable areas at all times."

Another giggle slips out your lips, "I never said you didn't." Again, he freezes and this time you snicker, "You just told on yourself."

Nanami swallows and removes his hand from your chin, turning his head away from you, "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

Your hand goes up without a second thought and you force his head to turn right back to you, "I wasn't," You murmur, inching closer, "But now I am."

The feeling of your thumb caressing his jaw makes the man's breathing pick up. He's not sure if it's the alcohol or just you in general but his body is suddenly so much more attentive to your touches. The sensation was so soft and small but it was steadily driving him crazy.

"Nanami," You murmur, breaking him from his thoughts.

His eyes dip down to your lips, "Kento," He corrects, "Just call me Kento."

Again, you have him exactly where you want him. "Earlier you said you don't sleep with women you've just met, nor have you ever slept with a woman you've met at a bar before..." You recall in a gentle tone.

He nods, unsure of where you're going with this, "Mhm..."

You bite your lips, "Perhaps we should change that tonight."

Nanami hums deeply, the sound vibrating against his throat as he struggles to lift his gaze from your lips. You're so close to him and your words and entire aura are intoxicating.

"How so?" He whispers in return.

"Take me home tonight..." You offer, soon shifting to the man's ear, "...and fuck me like a slut."

Those lewd words of yours went straight to the man's cock. Of all the things he could've expected from you, that was by far the last thing he expected to hear come out of your mouth. Sure, you flirted with him subtly here and there within the past few hours but...

That sudden offering of yours was entirely different.

There is no way you would've gotten this far without the alcohol in your system. As it is well known by now, you get horny when you're drunk so gradually throughout you and Nanami's conversation, you could feel your arousal building up.

Everything the man had done or said was noticed by you. From his large hand wrapping around the glass as he took a drink, to the way the smooth liquid flowed into his mouth, the way his voice got deeper and more relaxed, and even how he was looking at you now.

You could've never made such an offer if you didn't drink and Nanami would've never even considered it if he didn't either.

The stoic blond clears his throat and you pull away from his ear to meet his eyes, only to be met with a low and lustful gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. A careful brow is raised before you watch the man move out of his seat.

Standing at his feet, your head inclines up as nears you and that wonderful and dizzying scent of his cologne rushes into your nose. Nanami has the face of a young yet hardworking man and simply looking up at him as you are now gives you that urge to want to drop to your knees.

Perhaps the list truly has changed you. Maybe it wasn't the alcohol you drank tonight or the man in front of you. Maybe the problem here was you and your mind. Sure, you used to get horny before but to have the urge to suck someone off just because they've stood to their feet in front of you is...

Well, it makes you feel like the very thing Gojo tells you you're not; a whore.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Nanami leans down and places a hand on the bar beside you. You gulp as his face nears your own and then tense up when his other hand goes to cup your jaw, keeping your head angled up.

The man tilts his head and studies the look in your eyes closely, "You want me to take you home and... what?" He whispers.

You wished your confidence from moments ago had remained but as this man stood over you and held your face in his hands so delicately you could feel your thoughts turning to mush and your mouth going dry.

"Uh..." You mumble, staring back and forth between the man's eyes.

Nanami scoffs lightly, "Don't get all shy on me now," He says, "Tell me what it is you want me to do."

Your voice is small and barely even there, "Take me home..."

"And...?" He urges.

You swallow, "Fuck me..."

Nanami smirks, the reversal of roles here is driving him crazy. You were such a confident woman just moments ago, "Like...?" He murmurs, trying to get you to say the entirety of your initial statement.

You take your eyes off him and even try to turn your head away, "A uh-"

"Eyes on me, darling," Nanami voices out in that sweet yet husk tone of his.

You blink a few times before looking at him, taking a deep breath before speaking, "Like a slut."

He smiles just barely, "See? Was that so hard?" His voice and way of wording things are adding to your arousal for some reason.

"N-No..." You murmur.

Nanami's thumb moves to your bottom lip and his eyes sink to his actions as he swipes over it, "Exactly. And y'know what," He scoffs again, "You really aren't a whore." He says, almost as if he's surprised?

"I told you I wasn't," You whisper, pouting a little bit as he feels your lip against his thumb.

"Right, right," He hums, nodding a little, "Instead, you're one of those good girls who like to be treated like one, huh? Pinned against a wall, maybe with your hands tied up, and taking cock like it's the only thing you know how to do properly."

And just like that, you were soaked. Gulping, your breathing grows noticeably slower and Nanami could tell by your facial expression that you were aroused.

He chuckles, "We spent all this time talking, and yet I'm pretty sure the only thing you've been thinking about in that pretty little head of yours is how you're going to convince me to fuck you."

Your eyes widen and you genuinely don't understand how you let the dominance in the situation flip so quickly, "I-,"

"Don't worry," Nanami moves his thumb and he inches closer, his lips almost on yours as he whispers, "I'm convinced."

Your lips brush over his and your eyes threaten to close, "A-Are you?" Damnit, you need to pull yourself together.

The man nods ever so slightly but what he didn't expect was for you to move his hand away from your jaw and then stand up. You still have to incline your head up but as you stand, you don't miss the way his breath hitches when your chest presses into his.

Despite that, his head tips to the side again as he gazes down at you, "I am." He hums, shrugging a bit after, "I'll take you home and do just as you asked."

You hope he doesn't notice the way your eyes light up, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," His hands carefully go to your hips and you try your best not to tense up because his touch is so rough and yet oddly gentle at the same time, "Consider this my real way of making up for my assumption."

You chuckle, "You're gonna make up for thinking I'm a whore by-"

"Fucking you like one." Nanami finishes for you, even though that's not exactly what you were going to say.

The man suddenly spins you around and he begins to urge to to start walking away from the bar, moving to your ear as he does so, "This'll also help with your 'interview'." He claims.

You scoff and walk with him right behind you, his hands on your hips and his crotch bumping into yours briefly with every other step taken, "How so?" You ask in return.

Nanami stops the two of you from walking for just a second and pulls your body back into his. You can feel the large bulge in his pants pressing up against your ass and it makes your breathing stutter.

The man goes to your ear one last time and his voice is low but direct, "I'll show you just how 'stressed' I am."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[redcoralpot]

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

-

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam. 

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home. 

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

-

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered. 

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself. 

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath. 

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

-

[just-aake]

Dyeing to See You Again

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary:  The need for a change of style brings about a reunion between Natasha and her old friend.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 6659

Ohio - 1995

Three years ago, in the heart of the Midwest, a typical family of four moved into the ordinary suburban home next to yours.

Naturally, as their neighbor, you became interested in learning about the new family, especially since you found out that one of their daughters was similar to you in age. 

Initially closed off in the beginning, you slowly chipped away at the girl’s cold exterior until eventually the two of you became inseparable friends, forming a close bond with her over the three years they’ve lived here so far.

Currently, you find yourselves in the bathroom of her home amidst a chaotic mess of scattered bottles of hair products and dyes, the result of two young teens messing around without supervision.

You watch as Natasha removes the towel from her head, revealing the experiment that the two of you have been working on, and your eyes widen in shock at the sight.

“Uh oh, Nat, I think we might’ve mixed up the wrong bottles,” you exclaim in a slight panic as you rush around to pick up the different dyes, trying to find the one that was applied to her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Natasha,” you apologize as you try to figure out where you two went wrong.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Natasha reassures, her voice distracted in awe as she examines the strands of her newly colored hair in the mirror.

“It’s blue,” you state plainly in disbelief at her untroubled state. 

“Yeah, but…it was my choice,” Natasha says with a widening happy grin.

You drop the bottles in your hand and tilt your head at her in confusion.

“I thought you said that your mom was okay with this.” 

Natasha makes an unsure sound before shrugging, “I’m sure she will be..I think.”

You twist your lips skeptically at her words as you stand and return to her side. Your hand raises to her hair, but before you touch it, you pause and look at her with a questioning look, silently asking for permission. 

Over the time you’ve known her, you’ve learned how much Natasha values her personal space. The first time you patted her back in a friendly gesture, she pushed you away so hard that you scraped your hands while catching yourself on the ground.

Natasha apologized profusely immediately afterward and supported you home where she helped to tend to your wounds.

That was the first time you saw the true warmth that Natasha was hiding underneath her cold exterior as she cared for you.

At that time, she explained to you how she was not used to such friendly gestures like that from her peers and had reacted instinctively. 

Hearing this, you decide to always ask if she’s comfortable before you touch her.

With her nod of permission, your finger gently threads through her now light blue hair, brushing it in contemplation.

“Well, I guess it’s fine since it’s summer, but you’re going to have to change it back before school starts,” you remark.

Natasha shrugs, unconcerned, before flashing you one of her rare teasing grins.

“I’ll just have you dye it for me again. Maybe next time it might actually be the right color.”

You huff in disbelief at her, but before you can point out she also contributed to the mistake, the sound of the front door opening and the call from Natasha’s mom, Melina, causes both of your eyes to widen. 

Within the next second, the two of you scramble to clean up the mess in the bathroom, laughing with each other the entire time.

You never did get a chance to change her hair color back to normal. 

Natasha and her family vanished without a trace before the end of that summer. 

There was no note. No warning. 

She was just suddenly gone from your life.

And though many years pass, you’ve always held onto the hope that someday you can see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (23 Years Later)

The peaceful ambiance of the late evening is pierced by the gentle chime of the bell hanging above the entrance to the hair salon, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you call out, your eyes still fixed on the task of sweeping the floor.

A familiar voice responds, breaking through your concentration. 

“What about for an old friend?”

Instantly, you freeze in your movements and look up at the visitor, disbelief flooding your senses as you recognize the voice and then the face of the woman. 

"Nat?" you utter in disbelief.

Natasha stands before you, a soft smile gracing her features as she greets you. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Abandoning everything in your hands, you rush towards her, only to stop short of barreling into her when you remember how she felt about her personal space. 

To your surprise, Natasha pulls you into her arms for a tight hug, breaking the barrier herself.

Momentarily stunned, you quickly recover and return her warm embrace, tucking your head against her shoulder and letting out a breath of disbelief that she’s actually here in front of you.

The two of you stay in that position, reveling in your reunion with each other, before Natasha breaks the silence with a soft murmur against your shoulder.

“So, about that haircut?”

You chuckle, nodding in response to her request.

As Natasha settles into a chair, you move to secure the salon, locking the door and closing the blinds, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. 

Despite the late hour and remote location, you’re not taking any chances. 

Even though it has been years since you last saw Natasha in person, that doesn’t mean you didn’t eventually discover who she really was, recognizing her immediately through the news during the attack in New York and now with her current predicament.

But that’s her business. 

You’re not going to bring it up unless she wants to talk about it. 

Here in this moment, she's not a spy or the Black Widow. She’s simply Natasha, your friend. 

And right now, she wants to change her hair.

Taking your position behind her, you place your hands on the back of the chair and meet her eyes in the mirror. 

“So, what are we thinking?”

Natasha ponders for a moment before a teasing grin lights up her face, and she turns her head to look at you. 

"We could attempt the platinum blonde again, maybe without the blue this time?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a laugh of disbelief at the memory of your past failed attempt at dyeing her hair.

Before you begin, you give her the same questioning look as when you were younger, silently asking for permission to touch her.

A small smile forms on her face at the familiar request, and Natasha nods to you before facing forward once again to give you access to her hair. 

With her consent, your fingers gently thread through her hair, delicately brushing out the tangled areas as you go. 

As you continue your actions, Natasha’s eyes flutter closed, and a relaxed expression crosses her face as the tension in her shoulder eases with every movement.

A happy smile tugs at your lips when you see this, so you continue your soothing actions as you inspect the condition of her hair.

“What did you do?” you ask in concern when you realize the state of her hair. “The ends are all burnt up. Did you light your hair on fire or something?”

Natasha chuckles lightly, her eyes still closed as she responds.

“Not exactly. I jumped off an exploding secret evil base that was floating in the sky.”

A brief pause follows as you process her words before you release a huff of disbelief at her casual explanation. 

“Well, obviously one of us has chosen the more exciting career.”

You finish your assessment of the extent of damage to her hair before shaking your head with a resigned sigh.

“I don’t think these are salvageable. We might need to cut most of it off.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha answers calmly, unconcerned by the news.

“Seriously?” you ask, making sure she sees the length of how short her hair will be.

She meets your eyes in the mirror and gives you a reassuring nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t had that style before,” Natasha reasons before letting out a tired sigh. “Besides, a different look for me is probably better at the moment anyway.”

Understanding what she’s referring to, you don’t press further, replying with a soft, “Okay.”

You proceed with the transformation, draping a cape around Natasha’s shoulders before delicately combing through her hair.

With each snip of the scissors, you work meticulously with care, shaping Natasha’s hair into a style that would best complement her features. 

Lost in your task, you can’t help but be captivated by her beauty, understanding how she came to be described as the spy who captures the hearts of all those who encounter her.

As you finish up with the haircut, the peaceful atmosphere of the moment is shattered by an alert from the tv, interrupting the currently airing program. 

The late-night news anchor appears on the screen, delivering the all-too-familiar message that has become a nightly ritual.

“The search efforts are still ongoing for the fugitives Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, also known as Captain America and the Black Widow. The two are currently on the run for violation of the Sokovia Accords. Any information regarding their possible whereabouts should be reported to—” 

With a frown, you swiftly reach for the remote and shut off the tv. 

Turning back, your frown deepens when you find Natasha rising from the chair.

“What are you doing?” you question, puzzled by her sudden action.

Natasha shakes her head with a grave expression as she removes the cape from her shoulders.

“This was reckless. I shouldn’t be here,” she answers, her voice filled with regret. “I’m just putting you at risk.” 

Realizing her intention to leave because of the possible dangers of her presence, you interject firmly when she strides past you toward the exit. 

"I'm glad that you did."

Your unexpected words cause her to pause in her tracks, confusion flickering across her face as she turns to meet your gaze.

"I don't care about the risks, Nat," you say, your tone unwavering and softening with a small smile at her. 

“I’m glad that I got a chance to see you again.”

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly at your words, but a hesitant look still remains on her face, so you offer another reassurance.

“If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve told you to go already.”

Her gaze focuses on you in contemplation, and you know she’s almost convinced, prompting you to continue, your hand turning the chair around to her in invitation.

“Besides, I’m not finished yet. I still have to dye your hair and show you that I can get the color right this time,” you tease lightly.

A small smile tugs at Natasha’s lips, and a hint of amusement appears in her eyes as they soften into a fond look at you. 

With one final contemplative glance to the exit, Natasha comes to a decision and gives in, settling back into the seat again.

“Alright, show me what you got.”

With her permission granted, you proceed with the dyeing process, your fingers moving with practiced ease as you bleach and tone her hair, removing the remnants of her signature vibrant red locks, before applying the blonde dye. 

Your brows furrowed in concentration as you carefully coat each strand of her hair to ensure an even color in the end. 

Meanwhile, throughout the process, Natasha watches you intently through the mirror, a tiny admiring smile pulls at the corner of her lips when she sees how focused you are on your work.

Once all that’s left is to wait for the dye to set, you disappear into the back of the salon in search of some snacks and return triumphantly with a tub of ice cream. 

Offering Natasha a spoon with a playful grin, you both indulge in the sweet treat, the casual banter flowing effortlessly between you as if the years apart had never existed.

“So do you still live in the same neighborhood?” Natasha asks between spoonfuls.

You shake your head, explaining, “My parents are still there, but I moved out here years ago after fixing up this building for myself. My place is actually next door, though sometimes it’s hard to tell these are two separate buildings. You have no idea how many packages I end up never receiving because the mailman can’t find my home.”

The two of you share a laugh and continue reminiscing about past adventures and mishaps and then about your current lives.

Throughout the entire time, your questions to her remain light-hearted, carefully avoiding any mention of her current situation or her mysterious past.

Despite the happy atmosphere, your consideration for her only makes the sense of guilt within Natasha grow with each passing moment, reminding her of what she put you through.

Eventually, the room falls into a comfortable quiet as you clean up the empty containers and move to throw them away. 

When you return, Natasha decides to address her mistakes and the role she played in the fracture of your friendship.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

You look at her with a perplexed look, tilting your head in confusion.

“For what?” you ask.

“For not telling you who I was…for leaving without any warning,” she confesses, her eyes closing briefly with remorse. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You lean back against the counter, arms crossed, your gaze dropping to the floor as you contemplate her words. Your thoughts and feelings about her apology remain inscrutable on your face. 

After a brief pause, you finally meet her gaze again with a serious expression.

“Was it real?” you ask.

At your question, Natasha furrows her brows in confusion, causing you to elaborate.

“Our friendship,” you clarify, gesturing between the two of you. “All the times we spent together…was it real?”

Natasha pauses as she thinks back to her time undercover. The mission was to pose as a normal family to infiltrate and gather intel from a research lab nearby. 

That didn’t necessarily mean she needed to form such a close relationship with you at the time. 

So was her friendship with you genuinely her choice?

As Natasha contemplates her answer, you take a step closer to her, causing her focus to return back to you.

“The way I remember it, I wanted to be your friend,” you admit before giving her a knowing look. “And I’m guessing you didn’t have to be mine, at least based on all your brooding and glares that you gave me in the beginning.”

Natasha grimaces sadly at the memory of how distant and cold she was initially before giving you a curious look.

“So why did you try to become friends with me?”

You shrug, a nostalgic expression appearing on your face. You recall the first time you spotted the lone girl curled up into herself underneath the shelter of the branches of the trees.  

“When I first saw you, you just…looked like you needed somebody on your side for once,” you admit softly before tilting your head at her. “And I thought… maybe I could be that person for you.”

Natasha’s mouth parts slightly in surprise at your answer. Before she can respond, her stunned silence is abruptly broken by the sound of the timer. 

With a gentle shake of your head, you return your focus to her hair, positioning yourself behind her.

“You don't have to apologize, Natasha,” you assure her, your voice steady and comforting, as you delicately begin to unwrap her hair. 

“Odds are I would’ve still chosen to be your friend whether I knew if you were a spy or not. And as for leaving…”

You recline her chair, her head now hovering above the washing station, as you let out a soft sad sigh and begin washing her hair.  

“People come and go throughout our lives all of the time. And most of the time, we can’t stop it from happening.”

Your voice wavers slightly, the memories of the devastation you felt when you found out Natasha had left come flooding back. 

Even though she wants to, Natasha can’t see what kind of expression you have on your face, your hand covering her eyes to shield the water from her face.

Shaking off the sad memory, you dry her hair and reposition Natasha upright. Your fingers glide through her newly shortened locks, combing them as you continue with a lighter and more upbeat tone.

“But the one thing we can do is hope that the people who truly mean something to us are the ones we’ll get to see again.”

Satisfied with the results of Natasha’s new hairstyle, your hands settle on the back of the chair, turning it so she faces the mirror.

Bending down, your head hovers beside hers as you meet her eyes in the reflection.

“And look, I got to see you again, didn’t I?” you say with a happy grin.

Natasha is stunned, her heart warmed by your words. She gazes at her reflection, admiring her new look, but her eyes keep returning to you, your words still echoing in her mind.

Oblivious to her awed stares at you, you return your focus to brushing her hair and examining it proudly.

“Do you like it?” you ask eagerly with anticipation when you finally look up back at her. 

“Yeah,” Natasha responds honestly, her gaze fixed on you. “I do.”

You give her a beaming smile at her answer, causing the corners of Natasha’s lip to quirk up fondly at the sight. 

After you do your finishing touches and declare that she’s done, Natasha stands from the chair and reaches into her pockets for the remaining money she still has on hand.

“How much do I owe?”

You wave your hand in refusal, shaking your head.

“Nothing, consider it a gift from a friend,” you insist, giving her a resolute expression, daring her to argue.

Huffing lightly under her breath at your determination, Natasha gives you a small smile as she relents with a soft, “Thank you.”

Her eyes glance at the darkness outside, seeing how late into the night it is, and she turns back to you, tilting her head in question.

“Can I at least walk you home then?” she offers.

You raise an amused brow at her, probably because your home most likely only takes less than a couple minutes walk from here. 

Still, you agree to her request with a nod, unable to resist the opportunity to prolong this time together with her.

“Alright. Let me just close up.”

After you lock the shop, the two of you walk side by side along the sidewalk to your home before you suddenly stop and point to the lone motorcycle parked across the street.

“Is that yours?” you ask curiously.

“Yes, it is,” Natasha says proudly.

“It’s nice,” you compliment before you shoot her a teasing smirk. “It’s definitely cooler than that bicycle you used to ride.”

Natasha lets out a playful offended scoff in disbelief.

“Hey, you’ve always loved it when I let you ride on the back of that bike with me,” she points out.

You chuckle at her exclamation in defense of her precious bicycle, but you don’t deny her accusation.

Your heart warms at the memory of wrapping your arms around her waist, clinging to her from behind as Natasha rides her bicycle down the neighborhood streets.

Your eyes linger on her hand at her side, wanting to feel that warmth again, but you resist the urge to reach for her. Instead, you tuck your hands behind your back as the two of you continue your path.

Once you reach your front door, you turn back around to face Natasha, a somber expression settling over you.

“Will you ever come to visit again?” you ask with a tinge of hope in your tone.

Natasha hesitates, wanting to tell you ‘yes,’ but she knows better than to make promises that she can’t keep, especially with her current situation. 

“I don’t know,” Natasha answers honestly in a soft whisper. 

You dip your head slightly, a sad smile on your lip.

Natasha swallows her own desires in her heart and gestures awkwardly behind her.

“I should…probably get going before someone sees me,” she says with a small grimace.

You nod at her in understanding, moving to unlock and open your door.

“Stay safe, Natasha,” you tell her, your voice thick with longing. “If anything, I do hope I’ll get the chance to see you again one day.” 

When you enter your home and close the door with a dull thud of finality, Natasha's hand rests gently against the solid barrier separating you. 

Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she whispers sadly, "Me too,” before finally turning away.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (2 Months Later)

It was late one evening again when the bell above the door chimed just as you were cleaning up for the day. Looking up, a surprised and excited expression forms on your face when you see who it is.

“Can you take one more?” Natasha asks, a small smile also appearing on her face when she sees you.

With a light chuckle, you approach her, your hands clasped behind your back.

“For you, always,” you reply warmly, stopping in front of her with a fond tilt of your head.

Natasha bites her lips lightly to keep her grin from widening at your words. Just as she’s about to step closer, a gentle knock on the door behind her reminds her of her original reason for coming to see you.

“Actually, it’s not for me though,” Natasha explains before opening the door again and waving someone in.

A brown-haired girl cautiously steps into the salon at Natasha’s invitation. Her eyes look around, examining the room before falling on you with a wary gaze.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces. 

The girl gives you a timid wave in greeting from her crossed arm, but she subtly retreats to a position slightly behind Natasha. 

Her expression is pinched with apprehension as if she’s anticipating some sort of reaction from you.

You recognize Wanda quickly from the nightly tv alerts, her picture now featured alongside Natasha’s after the news broke about a high-security prison break a month ago.

Before you can offer her some reassurance, another familiar face walks in.

“The perimeter is secure,” the man announces before focusing on you and extending his hand in a greeting. “Hello, I’m Steve.”

Reacting instinctively to his polite greeting, you shake his hand and introduce yourself. 

“Hi, my name’s Y/n. I’m Natasha’s friend.”

Steve raises a brow at that and gives you a skeptical look.

“Just a friend? With the way Nat talks about you, I thought she was going to pull the same move as Barton and introduce us to her secret family.”

That draws a curious look from you as you ask him.

“What did she say?”

“Well—”

A loud cough from Natasha interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention before he can continue further.

Natasha’s subtle glare silences Steve, her arms crossed in disapproval, as she grits out to him, “Didn’t you say you wanted to see if you could find a place to resupply?”

Hearing this and wanting to offer some help, you raise your hand to get their attention and interject, “Most places around here are closed at this time, but…” 

You pause as you go to the back and retrieve your keys and offer them to Steve, explaining, “...there is a convenience store around the corner that belongs to my ex’s grandparents. They gave me a spare key for if I ever need something. Just write down what you take and leave the money behind the counter. Oh, and the security cameras don’t actually work, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Steve takes the keys from you with a grateful nod. 

“Thank you, this’ll help us out a lot.”

He then turns to Natasha and Wanda.

“I'll meet up with you two when you finish up here then,” he says, heading towards the door.

“I can come help you,” Wanda offers, moving to follow Steve, but Natasha blocks her path with a knowing expression.

“You said you wanted to change your look since we’ll be going into hiding,” she reminds Wanda who twists her lips in disappointment when she realizes she failed to escape.

“I didn’t think that meant we would be forcing someone to do it for me,” Wanda says, still glancing at you with apprehension.

You wave your hand in reassurance, interjecting quickly, “Oh, I don’t mind. Natasha’s not forcing me to do this. I’m happy to help.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Steve declares with an acknowledging nod to you. “Thanks again, Y/n.”

After a pointed gesture from Natasha, Wanda settles into one of the chairs with a small sigh.

Natasha leans against the counter facing you and Wanda as you move to your position behind the chair.

“So, what color did you want to dye your hair?” you ask her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wanda replies with a resigned tone, her eyes downcasted and focused on her hands in her lap.

You frown slightly in concern at her defeated attitude, and you look at Natasha, giving her a meaningful look.

“What do you think, Natasha? I believe I got some new colors recently. Maybe purple or green would fit her,” you ponder out loud as if actually considering those options.

Wanda’s head shoots up in shock as she sputters incredulously, “Green?”

Natasha grins, catching on to your intentions, as she shrugs casually at your suggestions, adding, “You could never go wrong with blue.” 

You laugh at her comment, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Wanda says quickly, a hint of exasperation in her voice. She points seriously at the two of you. “No to all those. I don’t want it to be that big of a change.”

Her voice lowers to a sad but determined tone.

“I don’t want it to be as if they succeeded in forcing me to change who I am,” Wanda admits as she stares down at her hands where a red ball of mist flows between her fingers in a gentle pattern.

“Well, the great thing about changing your hair is that ultimately whatever you decide, it’s your choice to make,” you say, your gaze meeting Natasha’s slightly widened eyes, before continuing firmly, “No one can take that decision from you.”

Wanda contemplates your words for a moment and then nods at you decisively.

“Can you lighten my hair into an auburn color?” she asks.

You give her a gentle smile and nod, replying, “Alright then. Auburn it is.”

Before you touch her hair, you give her a questioning look and ask, “Are you comfortable for me to touch your hair and start?”

Wanda blinks at you in surprise, and her tense posture relaxes slightly when she realizes you’re asking for her permission.

With a nod, she responds softly, “Go ahead.”

As you work on Wanda’s hair, Natasha watches you intently with a fond look in her eyes, lost in her thoughts at the sight of you and glad that she had this opportunity to see you again.

Before she knows it, you’re already finishing up applying the last coatings of the dye on Wanda’s hair when you suddenly speak up.

“You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for redheads,” you state casually before meeting Natasha’s eyes with a teasing smile.

“Are you trying to say that you don’t have a soft spot for me now that I’m blonde?” Natasha asks with an amused raise of a brow.

You shrug nonchalantly and hum in thought as if having to contemplate the answer.

Natasha huffs in disbelief and rolls her eyes slightly at you.

However, your words remind her of what you mentioned earlier to Steve, and Natasha can’t help but ask curiously.

“Was your ex also a redhead?” she asks, her tone seemingly casual.

“Impressive, your deduction skills as a spy must be really good,” you tease, chuckling lightly, as you return your focus to Wanda’s hair.

“The two of you must’ve been pretty serious for their grandparents to still trust you like that,” Natasha says, unable to hide the slight bitterness of the thought slipping into her tone.

You laugh and shake your head quickly in denial.

“No, definitely not. She moved away years ago, and our relationship didn’t really end on good terms. My close relationship with her grandparents is kind of like my revenge on her. Plus, they’re actually a sweet old couple.”

“Oh,” Natasha says, a small breath of relief releasing from her.

“I’m not really seeing anyone at the moment,” you admit softly.

“Natasha’s single too,” Wanda chimes in, her focus originally on the sitcom playing on the tv but now looking between the two of you with interest.

“That’s a surprise,” you say with a laugh as you go into the back to retrieve some things.

Natasha chuckles lightly as you leave before giving Wanda the same warning glare that she gave Steve. Unfazed, Wanda just gestures with her head encouragingly in your direction.

However, Natasha shakes her head resolutely in a silent reply to her, and before Wanda can attempt to convince her further, you come back and begin doing the last steps on Wanda’s hair.

With one final brush of Wanda’s newly red hair, you declare happily, “All finished.”

“Thanks, Y/n,” Wanda says as she stands from the chair and goes to examine her hair in the mirror.

You watch as a small smile appears on her face, and you let out a breath of relief, glad to finally see Wanda in a moment of happiness. 

Natasha comes up next to you and holds out some money in an offer. 

“Thank you for doing this,” Natasha says.

You shake your head in refusal, your hands folded behind you as you face her.

“I’m sure you all need this more than I do,” you say resolutely.

Natasha chuckles lightly and huffs in disbelief.

“You know, you can’t always give me free passes like this every time. You should be paid for your work,” Natasha points out.

You hum in thought before tilting your head at her with a questioning look.

“How about dinner?” you suggest.

A surprised expression appears on Natasha’s face, but she hesitates to answer, facing the same situation again of wanting to accept your offer, but a beep at her side along with the message that comes with it reminds her why she can’t.

“Steve’s on his way back. I have to take Wanda back to the safe house and then we’re moving right after,” she explains sadly with regret. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Nat. I know,” you say gently in understanding, taking a small step back from her and changing your tone into one lighter. 

“But if you’re ever in the area again, you’re always welcome here.” 

You turn to look at Wanda, adding, “All of you.”

“Can I walk you back home at least?” Natasha asks.

Before you can respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside catches your attention, and based on Natasha’s disappointed expression, you know that’s probably Steve.

“It’s okay, Natasha. You can go,” you reassure her, offering a comforting smile.

Wanda gives you a small wave goodbye as she exits, but Natasha lingers at the door, her gaze fixed on you.

“About before…” she starts before hesitating and trailing off into silence as she presses her lips together in contemplation.

When her shoulder drops slightly in defeat and disappointment, you know she’s decided against whatever she’s about to say.

“You can just tell me later,” you suggest. “You know, whenever I get to see you again.”

Though you both know that you don’t know when that’ll be.

“Right,” Natasha agrees, her smile tinged with sadness as she gives you one last glance and moving to leave. “I’ll see you next time, Y/n.”

After closing up, you head home, the events of the evening replaying in your mind.

Though the goodbye was bittersweet, you’re still happy you got a chance to see Natasha again so soon and even meet the other important people in her life.

As you step out of your bathroom, just finished with a shower, a knock on your door interrupts your thoughts. 

You check who it is before quickly unlocking and opening the door for them.

“Hey…” Natasha’s voice trails off, her gaze taking in your appearance. 

Remnants of water from the shower still remain on your exposed skin since you decided to wear some light clothing to counter the warm temperature outside.

Leaning against the doorway, you greet her with a curious tilt of your head at her sudden silence.

“Hey,” you reply in greeting.

Natasha shakes her head lightly as if coming out of a daze and gestures in a direction behind her.

“So, uh, Steve said that he can take Wanda back to the safe house. She really loves her hair by the way. Um, she also told me that I should..uh..I should see you again before we leave…”

Your lips twitch in amusement at Natasha’s endearing ramble, your gaze softening as you continue to listen.

“…but it looks like you’re probably about to go to sleep, so I should just go,” Natasha concludes, turning to leave.

“Wait,” you call out, your hand instinctively reaching towards her, but you stop yourself before you touch her, your hand retracting back to your side, a mixture of hesitation and longing in your movements.

Natasha pauses at your request, and when she sees your hesitating action, her features soften in understanding.

Stepping back closer to you, she extends her hand in invitation.

“You can touch me, Y/n,” Natasha reassures you. “I never have a problem if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, touched by her trust. 

Tentatively, you reach out, your hand finding hers, before checking for any signs of discomfort but end up seeing none from her. 

Your hand then trails up lightly to her shoulder and then to the back of her neck, your fingers play with the strands of her short hair as you watch her carefully.

Natasha closes her eyes at your touch, the same serene expression appearing on her face as before.

Seeing this, you bring your other hand to cup her cheek as you urge gently.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me earlier?” 

Natasha opens her eyes and meets your gaze with an affectionate look, her hand moving up to hold the back of yours as she responds.

“That it was real,” she confesses softly.

You furrow your brows lightly in confusion, prompting Natasha to clarify.

“Your question from before,” she explains. “It was real for me too.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath as she continues, “I loved that I had you on my side back then, and the truth is…I’d love to have you by my side now.”

Surprised by her admission, you search her eyes but only find genuine warmth and sincerity in her gaze. 

Natasha’s smile softens, and you find yourself drawn to her at the action, unconsciously leaning in closer.

Even though Natasha gave you permission earlier to touch her, this desire that you have is different, so you give her the same questioning look that you always have before and ask hesitantly in a breathless whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

Natasha chuckles lightly under her breath at your question, resting her forehead against yours.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

With a gentle pull, you close the small distance between the two of you, sharing a tender kiss with her. Her lips are soft against yours, fitting perfectly and enveloping you with the same warmth that you've always felt from her.

When you finally pull away, your breath still mingling with hers, Natasha gives you a teasing grin.

“So, about that dinner?” 

Laughing, you roll your eyes fondly and wrap your arms around her to pull her into your home.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2018 (2 Years Later)

The soft rustling of movement reaches your ears, pulling you from your sleep. You glance at the clock on the nightstand, its dim glow showing the late hour, before turning your gaze to the familiar figure standing beside the bed, quietly slipping her shirt over her frame with practiced ease. 

“Nat?”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha turns back to you, her expression reassuring as she moves to sit beside you. Her hand rests gently on your shoulder, stopping you when she sees that you’re about to sit up.

“Go back to sleep, moya lyubov,” Natasha whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “Wanda and Vision missed their check-in, so Steve and I are just going to check up on them real quick.”

A flicker of unease flares within you at the news, coupled with the realization that Natasha intends to go straight toward potential unknown dangers.

Your hand reaches out and grips her arms, a surge of unsettling fear tightening in your chest. 

“Natasha, don’t…” 

Don’t go 

The words are trapped in your throat as you stare at her. 

Holding your gaze, Natasha’s eyes reflect both love and determination. 

Love for you…and for her makeshift family.

And as much as you wish for her safety, you know you can’t keep her from her loyalty and duty to them.

With a bittersweet smile, you cradle her face in your hands, suppressing the selfish urge to ask her to stay.

“Don’t take too long to come back,” you manage, a hint of teasing in your voice as you catch a strand of her blonde hair in your hand. “We wouldn’t want your hair to be two different colors by the time you return.”

Natasha chuckles lightly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“It’s going to be a quick trip. I’ll be back soon,” she promises.

You pull her close, giving her another lingering kiss, before wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug and tucking your head against her shoulder. 

“And I’ll be here when you do,” you whisper against her in a promise in return.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Ohio - 2023 (5 Years Later)

In the quiet solitude of the salon, Natasha stands alone, the weight of the five years after the snap hangs heavy in the air. 

A mixture of exhaustion and sorrow is etched on her face as she examines the space.

With a weary sigh, she rubs at her eyes, wiping away the stray tears at the memories of you. She remembers vividly her last moments with you, your unspoken words to her. 

The truth is she knew, deep down, what you were about to say to her at that time. And she understood why you stopped yourself. 

Because if you had asked her not to go, she would’ve chosen to stay with you without any hesitation.

Seating herself in one of the chairs, Natasha meets her reflection in the mirror with unwavering determination.

Her hair has grown out to its former length over the past five years. Yet, traces of the dyed parts you did for her still linger at the tips. 

Those strands of blonde color are her lifeline — a connection to the part of her life that she holds dear. 

They serve as a constant reminder to keep going.

To keep fighting for a way to bring everyone back. 

To bring you back. 

Because amidst all the uncertainties of the world and the future, one thing remains steadfast in Natasha’s heart — she would do anything to see you again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n : Thank you for reading!

[reiding-writing]

hi! could you write prompt 6 from the angsty dialogue prompts for the climacteric event? fem/gn reader whatever you prefer, i was thinking that reader finds out something about spencer and it results in this messy situation, but honestly how you want to do it is all up to you!

JEALOUSY [CLIMACTERIC]

6. “Don’t touch me.”

WARNINGS: spencer is a bit of a twat but apologises profusely afterwards, arguing, happy? ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 2.5k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!!

a/n: majority vote chose this one to come out first 🫶 they also chose for it to have a happy ending bc y’all are really boring /j (i love you guys you aren’t boring i swear 🫶)

Spencer Reid grew up too fast.

He was remarkably smart for his age, that much was a given, but in terms of emotional development Spencer was forced to skip what should’ve been his childhood.

He didn’t get to experience what it felt like be praised over a rudimentary piece of ‘art’ by his parents, because he was ‘too intelligent’ for that.

He didn’t get to go out on a Saturday morning with his father to learn how to play a ball game because his dad was never around.

He didn’t get to be coddled by his mother when he cried because by the time he was nine he was her full time carer.

Ironically, his childhood was an era of time where he could barely remember a single detail, despite his renowned eidetic memory, and it only seemed to further prove that Spencer Reid’s childhood didn’t exist.

All he could remember was what didn’t happen. The key milestones of his life that he never got to live through.

To say that impacted his emotional availability was an understatement. Spencer had never been one to ask for help from other people, but in instances where he really felt like he was about to fall apart it was even worse. He’d grown up with the expectation that he was responsible for his own well being. That him and him alone was the only thing that could get him through whatever dark patch that he went through.

He didn’t need anyone else. He wasn’t allowed anyone else. It was just him, always.

You were decidedly the opposite. You wore your emotions on your sleeve, and for the most part, Spencer found it entirely refreshing to watch you be able to express yourself with no holds barred and no internal monologue telling you that what you were doing was wrong.

Sometimes he wished he could do the same.

There were times of his career where he wished you’d do something wrong, that you’d make a mistake or cross a boundary and it’d allow him to exert all of the anger and deep-seeded jealously he felt whenever he saw you be so open with yourself.

He knew it was horrible of him, and more often than not the minute those thoughts invaded his mind he thought of nothing more than how much of a terrible person he was. He was wishing ill on you just because you’d managed to have a healthy emotional output.

Because he was inherently broken from all the years of keeping everything to himself.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of your voice, gaze turning upwards from the mug of coffee sitting on the kitchenette counter to meet your face, covered in worry lines as you furrow your own eyebrows.

He hated when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer presses his lips together in an awkward line of a smile, a staple of his character that seemed much less genuine than usual from your point of view.

“You’ve uh- You’ve been stood here staring at your mug for almost five minutes,” Spencer flickers his eyes up to the analogue clock on the wall at your declaration.

You were right, he’d been stood in a state of dissociation for almost a whole five minutes without realising it. Great, that’s just wonderful. Like his life couldn’t get any worse.

“Everything’s fine,” He gives you another one of those awkward smiles as he takes his mug in between both of his hands, the ceramic barely even warm anymore, which tells him that his coffee isn’t hot enough for him to actually enjoy it, but right now he’d take a cup of warm coffee over standing here talking to you about his ‘feelings’.

But you’ve never made things easy.

“It’s not though is it? Something’s wrong Spencer, everyone in the office can tell,” You sigh softly at the indignation on his face as you prod at what’s going on inside his head. “We’re worried about you…” You reach out your hand slowly to lay it on his arm, and he pulls away from you without a second thought.

“Please don’t touch me,” He takes a step to the side, clearly trying to bypass you and get back to his desk so he can escape the conversation. “I said I’m fine.”

“And you’re lying Spencer.” You step in the same direction that he does, effectively blocking his path out of the kitchenette. “We need to know what the issue is or we can’t help you Spencer,” Your voice is tinged with a small amount of desperation, and it irks Spencer in a way that he can’t even fully comprehend.

“You want to know what the issue is?” He puts his mug back down on the counter with enough force that small droplets of coffee spill over the rim and onto the granite underneath it. “It’s you.”

He leans forward slightly like he’s trying to emphasise his point. “You are the issue.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and all of a sudden you’re regretting caring so much.

God you’re beginning to regret even waking up this morning. Maybe that would’ve spared you from the stake in your heat that was Spencer Reid explicitly telling you that you were the sole reason why he was acting differently. Why he was being cold and distant from the team and their genuine want to just make sure he’s okay.

Because they couldn’t do that. Because you were a part of the team. And as long as you were there that coldness wouldn’t go away.

“Right…” You press your lips into a line. “Sorry for asking.”

Spencer regrets what he said almost as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He watches as that usual sparkle of compassion in your eyes literally fizzles out right in front of him, and all of a sudden he feels like an absolutely horrible person.

As you turn to leave he reaches out a hand to stop you. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, how could he possibly redeem himself after a comment like that? But his body runs on autopilot and all he knows is that he needs to apologise to you. “Wait—”

“Don’t— touch me Reid,” You pull your arms further into yourself to stop him from reaching out to them, and he swears his heart breaks at the sight of you being dismissive. And then there was the added blow of you using his surname to further distance yourself from him and making him want to cut out his tongue so saying something so rash with absolutely zero provocation. “I understood you the first time.”

It was a complete turn of your character, all semblance of warmth and vulnerability evaporated and replaced with a cold, hard shell that Spencer could see calcifying behind your eyes.

“I-“

“I’ll leave you be now.”

And with that you disappear around the corner, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. His terrible thoughts that rightfully pummel him into the ground for so much as suggesting that you could ever be a problem.

—

When you said you’d “Leave him be”, he didn’t think it meant you’d literally avoid him like the plague. God you’d even roped Emily into switching desks with you so you wouldn’t have to sit opposite him anymore.

How was he supposed to grovel for your forgiveness if you wouldn’t so much as spare him a glance?

How was he supposed to explain to the team that the reason the two of you suddenly weren’t talking to each other was because he’d fucked up so badly that he felt like he was going to implode?

And most importantly, how on earth was Spencer Reid supposed to make you listen to him so he could explain himself and try to reconcile with you?

He’d considered cornering you in the break room, or catching you in an elevator on your way to the parking lot, but he knew that would only make things worse.

He’d considered turning up to your apartment your favourite snacks and begging you to let him inside, but that would be weird and borderline stalkerish.

He was really running out of ideas, and the longer he went without saying something the deeper he felt he was being pulled into the pit of despair that he’d dug himself to the point where he wasn’t sure if he as going to be able to claw himself out of it.

He had to speak to you. And he had to make sure that you didn’t run away.

The opportunity practically handed itself to him during a case. He knew budget cuts would mean that the team paired up when staying at a NYC hotel, and after some under the table begging for the other team members to room with each other so you didn’t have any choice but to room with him, he took his chance.

There was a very obvious blanket of tension between the two of you as you entered the room together, your apparent vow of silence continuing as you dump your bag on one of the twin beds to claim it as your own before shutting yourself into the bathroom to ready yourself for sleep.

He could tell that you weren’t happy about the arrangement, and despite how much you were distancing yourself from him you still wore your emotions on your sleeve, and right now they were telling him that you would literally rather be anywhere else.

You skirt past him as you exit the bathroom in your pyjamas, leaving your clothes and your bag on one of the decorative chairs to climb into bed with the continued silent treatment you’re serving him.

Spencer sighs dejectedly as he watches you take a seat on the edge of the bed with your back to him. “Can we talk? Please?”

“What is there to talk about?” Your voice washes him like a cold shower, your vocal chords dipped in ice and your words a perfect combination of blunt and dismissive. He can’t see your expression as you speak, but has a pretty good idea of the furrowing of your eyebrows and the narrowing of your gaze.

“I want—” Spencer lets out another sigh, raking his fingers through his hair in internal frustration. “I need to apologise to you. What I said was horrible and I’m sorry,”

“I don’t forgive you.”

As much as the words cut through his heart like a knife, he can’t blame you.

“I understand… I just wanted you to know that I really regret what I said, and that it’s been tearing me up thinking about it,”

“Right…” You let out a short, sarcastic laugh that causes Spencer’s eyebrows to furrow. “Because it’s all about you right?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Goodnight Reid.” You punctuate your sentence by shutting of the lamp on your side of the room, officially putting an end to your side of the ‘conversation’.

Spencer wasn’t done with it quite yet.

“I’m jealous of you. That’s why I said that ‘you were an issue’. You’re not. I am the issue and I was projecting it on to you. That was unfair of me and I need you to understand that I am apologising to do right by you, not to make myself feel better.”

“You have no reason to be jealous of me Reid,” You still haven’t turned to face him, but he’d rather be talking to your back than not be talking to you at all.

“Please stop calling me that..” Spencer lets out a small breath at the end of his sentence, words tinged with a small amount of desperation. He didn’t want to be ‘Reid’ in your mind, he wanted to be Spencer. “I have a lot to be jealous of when it comes to you,” Admitting his faults outright made him feel nauseous, but he needed to break this brick wall you’d built around yourself when it came to him.

He couldn’t stand being an outsider in your life.

“I mean, you’re sweet, kind, you have an inherent knack for social situations that I could only dream of possessing,” He takes a small break in his sentence to nervously chew on the inside of his lip. “and your emotional vulnerability makes me so jealous of you that I want to just—” He exhales sharply.

“It’s very easy to be jealous of you,”

There’s a small pause after Spencer’s confession, tension lingering in the air as he watches you aimlessly fiddle with the edge of the sheets whilst you debate how to respond.

“Those are stupid things to be jealous of,”

Spencer physically deflates at your answer. “They’re not, people like you are envied because you’re so open with yourself, that’s something not a lot of people have, myself included,” Spencer takes a small step forward, cautious about scaring you off if he approached too quickly. “even if I wish I did..”

He places a deft hand on your shoulder and you jolt at the contact.

“I’m really sorry.” His voice drops to a point where it’s almost inaudible, and you swear you can hear his voice catch as he tries to maintain his composure. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore… please,”

You let out a small sigh of indignation, and Spencer knows he’s won you over. “Fine,”

“Thank you,” He gives your shoulder a small squeeze, and you return it with one of your own as you rest your hand on top of his.

“I’m still angry with you,”

“I know…”

“You’ve got a hell of a job making up for it,”

“I know,”

“Good,” You finally turn to look over your shoulder at him, and Spencer is glad to see that your expression isn’t one of loathing or frustration. “Get some sleep Spencer,”

“Okay…” He gives you a soft nod and a half-awkward smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue one that fills him with more contentment than it probably should. “Goodnight…” He hesitantly pulls his hand from your shoulder to walk back to his own hotel bed, walking as you tuck yourself into yours.

“Goodnight Spencer, we’ll talk about this in the morning,”

“Yeah… Thank you…”

Spencer flicks off the lamp beside him, relaxing as the room is shrouded into darkness and allowing himself to get the first proper night of rest he had in weeks now that he’s finally made his peace with you.

[just-jordie-things]

cinnamon girl - kamo choso

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 17.3k warnings: i think none? summary: the brothers who are your neighbors across the hall settle inside of your heart as if there had been a space inside of it left just for them. more info: neighbors to friends to lovers. super cute big brother/little brother choso and yuji dynamic <3

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[ there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live // like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did // there’s things i wanna talk about, but better not to give // but if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When she’d first met her neighbors across the hall, (y/n) hadn’t known they were her neighbors.  At the time she’d still been new to the building, having only lived there for under a month, and she hadn’t quite found the time (or courage) to introduce herself to the other residents on her floor.  Going door to door seemed corny, and she figured over time they’d see each other in passing, but it appeared her floor was rather quiet.  Maybe they all worked at odd hours, or from home and never left their apartment, but either way, she’d barely met anyone in the building.  

Save for the uppity property manager and a few of the maintenance crew.  Neither of which she took much pleasure in interacting with.  Neither of which provided much room for forming friendships.  

Although one of the maintenance guys who fixed her broken dishwasher would have been more than happy to accept her number, as he’d tried multiple times to leave his personal number in the case of any other ‘emergencies’ as he called them.  Now she tried to DIY her way out of any issue the small apartment gave her, just so she could avoid having him sent to her again.

But a month into her lease, she’s still a stranger to what feels like the entire complex, and she’d gone to the mail room to check her mailbox.  As usual it was empty, and despite having hoped to make friends when she’d moved to the area, it was a bit of a relief to not have to talk to anyone right now.

That is, until a small person came running into the room.  Or, half running half waddling on his chubby legs.  When the child wasn’t immediately followed by an adult, (y/n) found herself panicking.

“Uh, hello,” She greeted, with painful awkwardness.

So she wasn’t that great with kids, sue her.  She’d never had to interact with small children before, with no kids in her extended family, she didn’t exactly have the experience.  Nonetheless, the little boy in the footie pajama tiger costume looked up at her with wide eyes and a wider smile.

There still didn’t seem to be an adult in the area, and her panic kicked up a few notches.

“Is your mommy or daddy around?” She asked, wondering if she needed to put the mail away and notify the proper authorities of this missing child.

Surely someone was missing him- he was downright adorable.  With the brightest brown eyes she’s ever seen, a toothy smile that displayed his missing front tooth, and the striped tail of his tiger onesie being wrung around in his little hands- (y/n) had never felt baby fever before, but she imagined it had to be akin to the tightening heartstrings in her chest.

“No,” The boy shakes his head, most of his body following the movement in a small sway.  “I don’t have them” 

Okay, now she was going to have to do a breathing exercise before she called the police, so that she could remain calm until this missing child was returned home safely.

With a slow exhale, she tucks her mail into her purse before kneeling down before him.  It takes her a few moments to try and find the right thing to say, this kid looked no older than five and she just wasn’t equipped to strike up a conversation with a child so young about where their home was.  She tries to speak calmly and slowly.

“Are you lost, little tiger?” 

Mentally, she cringes at how awkward her voice sounds when she’s trying to be approachable.  Does it come across as creepy? Fuck, she hopes not.

But the kid giggles, and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not lost!” He squeals it out with that adorable little kid delight, as if he’s trying to fight a fit of giggles.  “I live here! With Choso-nii!” 

So he lived with his brother.  That explained the no parents thing… sort of.  At least enough to calm her racing heart down a bit.

“And where is Choso-nii?” She asks next, praying that at any moment this mystery brother would appear and scoop up this kid before she had to strain through much more interaction.  Then again, she hoped no other adults would have to witness the embarrassing way she spoke to kids.

“I don’t know,” The boy shrugs his shoulders.  “We were playing hide and seek.  He hasn’t found me yet!” 

(y/n’s) eyes widen with alarm before she realizes that she should probably keep her expression as neutral as possible, so as not to worry the child.  It settles back into a nervous smile before she nods in slow understanding.

“You play hide and seek… out here…?” She asks slowly.

The boy holds both of his hands up to his mouth as he giggles.  If she wasn’t so anxious about him being all alone, she would’ve melted at the adorable and squeaky sound.

“Nooo,” He whines out playfully.  “I was trying to find a really good hiding spot!” He declares.

Again, (y/n) nods, and gives him a small laugh.

“Well buddy, the mail room isn’t a great spot.  It’s all open, see?” SHe gestures around her to the space they’re standing in.  “He’s sure to find you right away.  Did you leave your apartment?” 

The boy nods back at her, but his attention starts to stray as he begins to look around, probably for a better hiding spot.

“Does your brother know you left?” 

This time he shakes his head.

(y/n) huffs, and places her hands on her knees.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Itadori Yuji!” The boy declares, his attention back on her as a proud grin covers his face.  “I’m five!” He adds, holding out his hand with all five fingers stretched out on display.  This time when (y/n) giggles, it’s genuine.

“Itadori Yuji, I’m (y/n),” She introduces softly before tilting her head at him.  “I live in the building too.  Do you think I could take you back to your brother?” 

Yuji frowns.

“But then my turn will be over” 

She’s quick on her feet to come up with an excuse to take him back home where he belongs.

“Well… I’m sure I could convince your brother to give you a re-do.  Since I messed up your game and all,” She suggests.  “Do you think then it would be okay?” 

Yuji thinks about it for a minute, humming and looking around the mailroom some more.  Once he realizes there’s not a good hiding spot anyways, he gives in, and nods his head.

“Okay!” He agrees, and (y/n) smiles back at him as she stands up again.

“Do you know which apartment is yours, Itadori Yuji?” 

“I know which button to push in the elevator!” He tells her, and she figures that’s a good start for now.  If knocking on every door is what it took to get him back to his brother, she’d have to accept that.

“Alright then, let’s get to it” 

As the pair make their way to the elevator, Yuji pulls the hood of his pajamas over his head.  It’s got fluffy little ears to complete the whole costume, and (y/n) can’t help the smile that takes over at the adorable sight.

Yuji’s excited about pushing the buttons in the elevator.  He expertly pushes the one with the number for his floor- or at least she hopes it’s the right one- before he pushes the one to close the doors.

“Choso-nii always lets me push the buttons” He tells her matter of factly.

“I can see why.  You’ve practically mastered it,” She teases in response, and he seems to take it as the highest form of compliment.  It’s then that she takes notice of the floor he’d chosen.  “I think you and I live on the same floor, Itadori Yuji” 

“Really?” The boy’s eyes light up as if he’d just learned his best friend lived so close- despite them still being strangers in her book.  It makes her chuckle as she nods her head at him.

“Really” She affirms.

The first neighbor she meets, and it’s a rowdy five year old boy.  Oh well, it could’ve been worse, right?

“That’s so cool! I can’t wait to tell Choso-nii!” Yuji bounces with his giddiness, and it has (y/n) chuckling again.

Even if his brother had lost track of the kid, it was clear that Yuji adored him with how much he brought up his name.  (y/n) only hoped that when she returned him, Choso-nii lived up to the first impression his little brother was creating.

“He doesn’t really have any friends,” 

Yuji immediately begins to overshare, and now (y/n’s) trying to stifle her laughter as he babbles on about his older brother.  He’s chatty for a five year old sharing an elevator ride with a stranger, but (y/n) didn’t mind.  The less she had to make awkward small talk, the better.

“But that’s just ce-bause he works a lot.  He works really late too.  Sometimes past my bedtime.  But he doesn’t get in trouble ce-bause he’s a grown up and I’m just a kid.  But when I’m a grown up I’m gonna stay up past my bedtime, too!” 

A little chuckle slips past her lips just as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open again.  Yuji steps out and happily leads the way down the hall.  (y/n) hopes his confidence is based in his memory on where he lives.

“He’s really nice though.  He should have more friends.  But he has me!” 

“Is that so?” (y/n) giggles softly as Yuji begins to skip down the hall.  

They’ve almost approached her apartment, and her panic begins to crawl back in.  Does he really live up here? Does he really live in this building? When he finally plants himself in front of a door, she prays to whoever’s up there that his brother is on the other side.

Glancing behind her to see her own door there, she swallows the lump in her throat.  This kid lived right across the hall from her? Her brows are pulled into a pinch, and she’s debating on scooping Yuji up and calling the police to find his proper address, because what are the odds of that? 

Maybe she was just paranoid, but she’s on the brink of reaching out to the boy when the door in front of them swings open.

Oh wow, is the first thought on her mind, and she’s lucky her throat went too dry for her to accidentally let them slip off her tongue, too.

The man that stood in the doorway couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than her- which she wasn’t expecting- but more surprisingly, he’s the most handsome man she’s ever laid her eyes on.  

With a tall stature and broad shoulders, he nearly took up the entire doorway with his body.  He was wearing a hoodie and sweats, but she could tell that he was well built under his clothes.  From his size alone, she could conclude that, but there was also a certain aura about him that told her he was strong.  Not to mention, with fair skin and dark hair swept into two messy buns, he was just so pretty she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him.  There was a thin black line tattooed over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones that stood out on his pale skin, and she stared at it too long to be deemed appropriate, but she just couldn’t help herself.  He was the most mesmerizing person she’s ever seen.

She’s stunned so thoroughly that she just stands there with her lips sealed and her eyes blinking wide.

Yuji, on the other hand, is overwhelmingly delighted.

“Choso-nii!” He cheers, leaping towards his brother and clinging onto the hem of his sweatshirt.

“I was just going to come look for you, booger,” Choso finally speaks and (y/n’s) struck with a mixture of relief from the confirmation that this was Yuji’s proper home, and a sudden heat in her chest from hearing his deep voice.

The man places a hand on top of Yuji’s head, smushing down the ears on his hood as he tilts his head back so he could stare down at him sternly.

“You don’t leave the house like that,” He scolds in a gentle voice, clearly more concerned than anything.  “You know that” 

“I was still in the building,” Yuji pouts.  “And (y/n)-san found me,” 

Before Choso can ask who he means, it strikes him that the woman who’d been at the door with his little brother was still standing there.  She throws her hand up in an awkward wave, still too starstruk to speak.  Also perhaps a bit intimidated from having to explain herself to the handsome stranger- who happened to be her neighbor.

Before she could properly introduce herself, or find her voice, Yuji’s pulling away from his brother and reaching for (y/n’s) hand.  He tugs on it as he stares up at her with pleading eyes.

“C’mon (y/n)-san, tell him, tell him!” 

Choso eyes his brother with a peculiar narrow to his eyes, before shifting his gaze upwards, towards the girl who’s quietly laughing and pulling Yuji’s hand off of her own gently.

“Right…” She murmurs down at him, before turning towards his older brother.  “Well, I must request that you give Yuji a re-do on his round of hide and seek,” 

Choso blinks, his eyes widening in just the slightest.  Enough for (y/n) to realize there was a slight violet hue in the darkness of them.  Her heart skips  a beat- has she ever seen violet in a person’s eyes before? Certainly not.  She has to clear her throat before continuing.

“You see, I made him end his round early,” She continues, trying to bite back the grin that threatens to take over her features as she takes responsibility for the game being ended so abruptly.  “Completely my fault” 

A breath of a laugh escapes him, before his lips part and he smiles between her and his brother and fully laughs.

“I see,” He hums.  “You can have a redo on one condition” 

“Anything!” Yuji wailed out dramatically 

“The game stays inside the apartment.  Got it?” 

“Okay!” Yuji agrees to the rule right away, throwing himself at his brother again to wrap his arms around him in a display of his gratitude.  He giggles as he looks up at his beloved big brother.  “I’m gonna go scout hiding spots while you talk to (y/n)-san!” 

Before anything more could be said, Yuji’s darting back inside the apartment.  Even with the footie pajamas, his stomps as he roams around looking for small places he could fit could be heard by the pair at the door.

“Scouting is cheating!” Choso hollers behind him, but when he’s met only with Yuji’s giggling, he figures it’s probably a lost cause already, and turns back to where his little brother’s not-as-little friend is still hovering in the hall.  His adam’s apple bobs as he swallowed thickly, trying to cure the dry spell on his throat before he speaks again.  “Thank you for helping him get back.  I’m, uh, sorry if he was trouble” 

“Oh, he was no trouble at all,” She says easily, because it’s the truth.  She tries not to focus on the purple in his eyes as she jerks her thumb over her shoulder.  “I actually live across the hall, so if anything he walked me home like a tiny gentleman” 

She laughs off her nerves as she pulls on the strap of her bag, clutching it close to her chest.  It’s a relief when he quietly chuckles too.

“I’m Kamo Choso, by the way” He says, stepping out of the doorway just enough to extend his hand to her.  She hesitates before taking it, and he wonders if he’s imagining things or if she really was blushing from the simple handshake.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” She replies softly.  “Nice to meet you” 

She hadn’t thought Choso would take Yuji seriously when he was instructed to talk to her, but to her surprise he leans back against his door frame and takes it upon himself to strike up a conversation.  It’s nothing too exciting, but it was more than she was expecting, and it still has butterflies tickling in her stomach.

“How long have you been in the building?” 

“About a month,” She answers.  “Pretty sure you’re the first person I’ve met that actually counts, though” 

“That actually counts?” His brow raises.

“Would you count the landlord and the maintenance crew?” She asks, a slight smirk tugging on the corner of her lips.  It draws another chuckle out of him, and he has to nod his head in agreement.  “Well, I should let you get back to your game,” She shuffles backward, her hands relaxing on the strap of her bag as she reaches her side of the hall.  “I’m glad I met you both, though” She adds in a moment of bravery before she’s fishing for her key.

“Me too-” 

“Choso-nii! Time to cooount!” A little voice hollers from inside his apartment, sending him whirling around to scold Yuji for being too loud when the door is open and all of their neighbors could surely hear his screeching.

(y/n’s) already slipped inside her door and shut it again when he turns back again.  He’s disappointed, even if he didn’t know what else to say, he would’ve liked to talk to her a little bit longer.  With a huff, he hopes they’ll cross paths in the hall sometime soon, before he heads after his brother.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After a few more rounds of hide and seek where Choso had to pretend he hadn’t seen Yuji’s tail poking out from under the couch, or his padded clawed feet from beneath the swaying curtains, he decides it’s time to make them both lunch.

And in the midst of perfecting his craft at grilled cheeses, he thinks he might as well press his kid brother for some more information about their supposed new neighbor.

“Your new friend seemed pretty nice” He tested the waters, keeping his focus on the stove while Yuji did a coloring page at the counter across from him.

“(y/n)-san?” He asks, grinning right away.  Out of the corner of his eye, Choso can see that he began to kick his feet back and forth.  “She’s really nice! I like her a lot” 

“Mhm” Choso hums back, poking the sandwich around with a spatula to test if it was ready to flip yet.  Yuji watches his big brother curiously.

“Did you like her too, Choso-nii?” 

“I said she seemed nice” Choso chuckles, glancing over at Yuji for just a moment before focusing on the stove again.

“Well, good.  Ce-bause I told her you didn’t have friends, so maybe she could be your friend” 

Choso nearly chokes on air as he turns to Yuji again, a wince of a smile on his face.  Yuji’s grinning, of course, because he’s five and had all the best intentions in making sure his big brother had companionship, but Choso can’t help but worry that he’d killed his chances of getting to know her better.  She probably thought he was a creepy loner now.

“You… told her I didn’t have friends?” He repeats, hoping maybe the context will make things better.  Maybe Yuji hadn’t said exactly that.

“Yep!” The boy responds, popping his lips with certainty before tucking away the green crayon he was using.

Choso tries to hide the curl in his lip as he turns off the stove and plates the grilled cheese.  Relying on a five year old to be a decent wingman was too tall of an ask, he realizes.  Yuji’s cuteness could only carry him so far… if only he wasn’t such a blabbermouth.

“Well, hopefully she’ll still like me then” He mutters as he sets the plate in front of his brother.  Yuji beams as he thanks him, taking a large bite before going back to his coloring sheet.

Unbeknownst to Choso, Yuji held onto that little comment in his memory.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his luck, he happens to run into (y/n) just a week later.

He and Yuji were waiting at the elevator, with Yuji being a little more whiny than usual.  Choso had actually been praying for the doors to open faster so that he could get the two of them out of this building before his younger brother had a meltdown.

It wasn’t often that Yuji misbehaved.  He was a really good kid, who responded well to rules and structure, and was always polite where he needed to be.  He could get rowdy, and maybe he was more chatty with strangers (especially cute ones that live across the hall) than Choso would have liked, but he was a respectful little five year old with a good heart, and he wouldn’t ask anything more.

Except for today.

“But I don’t like her house.  It stinks.  And there’s too much cat hair!” Yuji whines.  He’s not being loud, but he’d had the whiny voice for the better part of an hour now, and Choso was starting to go a little crazy.

“I thought you loved Adelaine-san’s cats” He reminds him gently.

Truthfully, Choso wasn’t a fan of Yuji’s current babysitter either.  She was nice enough, but she overcharged, and she never seemed to feed Yuji food he actually liked- resulting in Choso having to pick up fast food on the way home every time he picked him up from babysitting.  However, she was the closest sitter to them, and she didn’t mind keeping Yuji late when Choso worked nights- which was often.

“I do, but there’s so many Choso-nii,” Yuji pouts up at his big brother.  “Gets stuck on my clothes” 

Despite being irritated with the whiny attitude, Choso can’t help but give his kid brother a small smile.  What five year old cared about fur sticking to clothes? Yuji was something special.

“Well, you can’t come with me to work-” 

Finally, the doors opened, but before the brothers could step in, (y/n) was stepping out.  With arms full of bags of groceries- almost a comical amount of bags.

“(y/n)-san!” Yuji cheered after seeing his long lost friend.  (It had been a week)

Despite her obvious struggling with her things, Yuji threw himself at her, eager for a hug.  Choso was quick to grab him by the hood of his truck-themed sweatshirt, reeling him back before he could make the poor girl drop her things.

“Let me help you” He offered, already reaching for the handles of the bags lower on her wrists.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I made it this far-” She starts to deny the offer, but Yuji’s piping up before she could finish.

“I’ll help too!” Yuuji declared, following his big brother’s example and taking two bags, one in each hand.

“Be careful with those, Yuji,” Choso says quietly.  “That’s food, you need to be gentle, like how we carry bread, remember?” 

Yuji nods affirmatively, already marching back down the hallway towards their doors.  Choso hopes he doesn’t think he can sneak back home with this little act of service.

“Thank you,” (y/n) chuckles as Choso loads his arms up with her bags.  “I don’t believe in making multiple trips” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” He replies, smirking to himself as he did a quick count of all the bags between them.  What the hell did she need all these groceries for? Does she let her pantry run out before she makes a trip? “Caught you at the right time though, huh?” 

“You did,” She muses, digging a free hand into her pocket for her key.  Yuji was patiently waiting at her door, and she made sure to greet him with a big smile.  “And how have you been, Itadori Yuji?” She asks, unlocking the door and pushing it open with her hip.  To her amusement, Yuji strolled right into her apartment.

“Terrible, (y/n)-san!” He cries out.  

“Yuji, you can’t just walk into people’s-” 

“It’s alright,” (y/n) giggles before Choso could scold his brother for inviting himself into her home.  “Please, come in.  He’s just trying to help, can I get you boys something to drink?” 

“No, that’s alright, thank you, I actually-” 

Choso’s interrupted again, but this time by his nosy brother, who’s set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor before marching back over to them and putting his hands on his hips.

“He’s making me go to the babysitter,” He whines to (y/n), who raises her brows as she nods back at him, taking him quite seriously- much to Choso’s dismay.  “I hate the babysitter!” 

Choso rolls his eyes as he’s setting his armful of bags on the counter.

“We don’t hate,” He says softly, but Yuji’s pout only worsens, before he gives (y/n) his best puppy dog eyes.  Choso sighs as he turns to (y/n).  “On Thursdays and Fridays I work at a bar, so he can’t come,” He explains quietly.  She nods at him too, giving him the same level of her understanding and attention.  If he wasn’t starting to run late, he would have reveled in it a little longer, just because it was cute.  “He thinks it’s the end of the world, but it’s not.  It’s only for a few hours-” 

“It’s torture, (y/n)-san!” Yuji reaches out to her, and on instinct she finds herself crouching down, returning his dramatic pout.

“Oh it sounds like torture!” She cries back.  For a moment, Yuji seems taken aback by the behavior, but he just as quickly lights up, and reaches towards her again.

“Can I stay here with you instead!?” He asks, already grinning ear to ear from the idea, before she’d even given him her approval.

“Yuji,” Choso sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  What was it with his little brother and overstepping when it came to her? “I’ve already called Adelaine-san, she’s expecting us” He says pointedly. 

Yuji frowns, and this time it’s not like the baby faced pout he made before.  It’s a genuine disappointment in being told he had to go.

“I don’t mind,” (y/n) says softly, tilting her head to look up at Choso, waiting for him to decide whether or not he was alright with that.  “I can look after him for a while.  Then you don’t have to make an extra stop on your way home, we’ll be right here” She suggests.

Yuji’s grinning again in no time, bouncing on his feet before rushing over to his brother and clinging onto his pant leg.

“Please Choso-nii! Pleeaaase?” He whines, and somehow it’s more irritating than before.

(y/n) chuckles as she stands, stepping a little closer to speak under her breath, while Yuji was still whining and bouncing and not paying attention.

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” She says.  “I understand if you’re more comfortable with-” 

“You’d really be alright to take him for tonight?” He asks her, eyes flickering between hers.

She presses her lips together as she nods, trying to will herself not to get lost in his pretty dark eyes.

“Just for a few hours,” He repeats his earlier mention, and she nods again.  “You’re sure?” 

“She’s sure! She’s sure!” Yuji screeches, still pulling on Choso’s leg and waiting for the confirmation that he didn’t have to go to the smelly cat house.

“Alright… fine,” Choso agrees, and Yuji’s full on jumping now.  Choso only hoped he wasted off this excess energy so he was calm and good for (y/n) the rest of the night.  “But you have to be good.  If (y/l/n) has any problems she’ll tell me, and then it’s cat hair for the rest of your life, got it booger?” 

Yuji nods his head up and down repeatedly, so much so they’re surprised it doesn’t give him a head rush. 

“I’ll be good! I’ll be so good!” He promises.  Choso smiles, reaching a hand down to mess up his hair affectionately.

“I’ll give you my number, in case you change your mind, or if he… breaks something, or something” Choso mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

(y/n) does the same, they swap, each plug in their contact, then swap back with shy smiles.

“I’m sure he’ll be lovely,” She tells him.  “Don’t worry about us, I have a lot of movies.  Maybe I’ll make him a big dinner and put him to sleep” 

The corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk.

“Works like a charm every time,” He murmurs.  “But I gotta get going, I don’t want to be too late” 

“Of course” She nods, headed towards the pile of grocery bags on her kitchen counter.

“I’m usually out around one, but if it’s any later I’ll text you, alright? Or- should I call?” He’s walking back towards the door, but he hesitates as he waits on her answer.

“Either works,” (y/n) shrugs with a small smile.  “Have a good night!” 

It’s stupid, but his face feels warm as he lingers at the door just a few seconds longer, before he nods back at her.

“You too, (y/l/n).  And thank you” 

Once he leaves and the door is shut behind him, (y/n) has to shake her head to rid the silly fluttery feeling in her chest.  

“Well,” She flattens her hands over the front of her pants, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles, before she turns to Yuji with a smile.  “How about while I put these groceries away, you let me know if you see anything you like and I’ll get started on that for dinner, hm?” 

“Did you get the dinosaur shaped macaroni?” Yuji asked hopefully.

(y/n) winces as she glances over her bags of produce, bread, and regular-shaped pastas.

“I… did not” She admits, and she actually feels a bit bad about being underprepared.  Even though she’d only taken on this babysitting gig five minutes ago.

“That’s okay,” Yuji shrugs.  “I like all sorts of things!” 

And he’s not wrong.  As she puts away the boundless groceries, Yuji points out all sorts of things he likes.  Fruits, veggies, he didn’t seem like a picky kid at all.  (y/n) actually found herself impressed by his wide palette.

“Choso-nii makes all sorts of stuff” Is what Yuji says when she compliments him on his taste.

“He’s a good cook, huh?” 

“Very good!” Yuji tells her.  “Maybe next time he’s not working you can eat with us, instead!” 

The insinuation has her cheeks flaring up with color and heat, but she politely agrees and tells him she would like that.

The rest of the night goes without a hitch.  Yuji teaches her how to play crazy 8s- even though the rules were simple and she’d memorized them when she was his age- and they play that while chatting over everything and nothing for a long while.  Yuji tells her all about his best friend Megumi.  Then when he runs out of things to say about him he talks about his favorite subjects, his favorite color, and that starts a long conversation about his favorite everything.

It’s obvious he tires himself out with all his chatting, so it’s not long after that when (y/n) shows him her movie collection and lets him pick one out.  It takes him some time, as he treats this task with the utmost importance.  He couldn’t make a bad choice, of course.  (y/n) doesn’t mind.  She’s come to shed the awkward layers and has learned exactly how to talk to Yuji.

She’s learned that taking everything he says to be completely serious and dive into a conversation about it as if he were anyone else seemed to do the trick.  Yuji liked to talk, and he had plenty to say.  Like how squeaky the swing sets were at school, and how he disliked when people used them because of it.  He was kind, and he was entertaining.  He was certainly the best company she’d taken up in a while.

When he picks the movie he settles in on her couch, cozying up in the fluffy blanket she’d grabbed for him, and he tells her that he picked one of his favorites.

The entire first half, Yuji is on the edge of his seat.  Both from watching his favorite animated movie, and also from watching (y/n’s) every reaction to it.  It started to grow on her, so eventually she really started to do up her reactions to every little scene.

At the halfway point she made him a big bowl of popcorn and only stole a handful of it when he wasn’t looking just to get a giggly reaction out of him.

Before she knew it, with a full belly, a cozy blanket, and his favorite movie, Yuji was dozing off on the couch.  

As quietly as she could, (y/n) got to work cleaning up the kitchen.  Although with how much energy Yuji had spent earlier in the night, he was sleeping as hard as a rock.

With nothing but time to spare, she decided now was as good a time as any to catch up on some reading.  So once everything was clean again, she settled in on the couch, tucked the blanket around Yuji, and got to reading.

She lost hours until her phone buzzed with a notification.

[ kamo choso ] : just got out, will be by in twenty minutes or so 

She liked the message so he knew she was still up and saw it.  She kept the chat open for a few more minutes, contemplating sending a message back.  sounds good! or he was great, out like a light! But the longer she hesitated the more she felt like too much time had passed, and it would be embarrassing to send a text.  So she didn’t.

She wasn’t able to focus much on reading after that.

Choso knocked on the door not too much later, twenty minutes to be exact, just like he said.  She tiptoes her way to the door, and smiles upon finding a very tired looking Choso on the other side.  The circles under his eyes look a little bit darker, his hair is starting to fall from his already messy buns, and he looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.  Regardless, he lifts his head and gives her a small smile when she opens the door.

“Hey,” He hums.  “How was it?” 

“It was fun, actually,” She whispers back, checking over her shoulder to make sure Yuji was still sound asleep.  “He’s a really great kid.  You must be doing all sorts of things right” 

Her eyes crinkle when she smiles up at him, and for a moment- and maybe for the first time- Choso nearly forgot about Yuji.  He’s not sure anyone’s ever looked at him with the soft, sweet look that she’s looking at him with now.  He gets lost for a moment, practically drifting off right before her.

“Oh- you’re exhausted, come in,” (y/n) mistakes his look for tiredness, and steps out of the way to let him in.  “Yuji’s still sleeping on the couch.  He’s a hard sleeper, huh?”

“Very, yeah.  Building had a fire drill a few months back while he was having a nap.  Slept through the whole thing” 

(y/n) giggles to herself as Choso approaches the sofa, smiling at how content his kid brother seemed to be while curled up in the blanket, sound asleep.  He was careful as he stooped over to scoop him up.  It took some help from (y/n’s) part seeing as one of his hands had an iron grip on the blanket, but eventually he was free of the fluffy restraint, and Choso had him settled against his shoulder with ease.  As expected, Yuji remained asleep.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” Choso shifts Yuji to be held up by one arm so he had a free hand to reach into his pocket.  “I definitely owe you for this, what do you think is fair?” 

“Oh, no,” (y/n) shakes her head back at him.  “You don’t have to pay me, it was no trouble at all”

“You don’t have to say that, really, how much-?” 

“I don’t have to say it, I mean it,” (y/n) assures him.  “Really, he was a perfect kid.  I’d… I’d happily do it again, if you ever need” She offers, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

“Okay,” He returns the smile, but he still hesitates with his wallet in his hand.  “You’re sure I can’t give you something though? At least pay you back for the food?” 

“I’m sure” She has to bite down on her cheek to keep her laughter from ringing out too loudly.

Slowly, she follows him back to the door.  It’s later than she’s usually up, and she’s so tired that she’s sure she’ll pass out as soon as her head hits her pillow, but still she lingers at the door with him, waiting for him to say anything else.

“Well, then I can’t thank you enough.  I really appreciate it, (y/l/n).  Yuji did as well, I’m sure” 

“I think he did.  I hope, at least,” She murmurs, smiling fondly at how cozy Yuji seemed to be sleeping on his brother.  “And you can call me (y/n), by the way” She adds, almost as an afterthought.

Choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding back at her as he waits for his voice to return to him.

“Alright,” He murmurs, finally crossing the threshold of her doorway.  “Good night then, (y/n)” 

Her heart is racing at a million miles an hour.  She fears it might shoot straight out of her chest like a bullet.

“Good night” She manages to murmur back as he crosses the hall, and she shuts the door behind him.

A sigh escapes her, and she realizes that she’d been holding her breath until she’s alone in her apartment again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Things take off after that first time she babysat Yuji.

Occasional drop offs turned into frequent visits.  Yuji often wanted to stop by (y/n’s) apartment after Choso picked him up from school, eager to tell her about his day.  Whether Megumi brought snacks for lunch again because his caretaker had a sweet tooth, or if he wanted to show her that he learned how to do a cartwheel, there was always something.  Yuji was bountiful in excuses to go across the hall.

And to his delight, (y/n) ate it up.  She watched him more and more while Choso was at work, or running an errand that Yuji didn’t feel like tagging along to because suddenly he wanted to do his homework at (y/n’s) instead.  Choso had a habit of always double checking with her beforehand, sending her a quick text to see if she was even free.  And it seemed that every time, her door was open.  There was never a time where she turned them down.

She became Yuji’s regular babysitter, and after a while it barely even felt like babysitting.  His drawings and coloring pages decorated her fridge, he’d often leave a few toys behind, figuring he’d play with them the next time he was over, and he always used the same fluffy blanket when he’d be over late while Choso worked.

It was safe to say Yuji had grown attached to her, and fast.  Even when he wasn’t at her place, he wouldn’t shut up about it at home.  Not that Choso minded, he liked hearing about (y/n’s) day through Yuji’s eyes.  He got to learn all sorts of cute little things about her that way.

While Yuji had been spending more and more time with their neighbor, Choso couldn’t exactly say the same.  He chatted with her in passing, usually at dropoff and pickup, and he tried to text her more- funny Yuji-isms he heard throughout the day, memes, offers to leave money for dinner for the two of them- and even though she was always receptive over text, reacting to every image and responding to every message, it just didn’t feel like enough.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Choso-nii, do you have a crush on (y/n)-san?” Yuji asked him one day, seemingly out of the blue.

They’re in the grocery store, where Yuji’s filling up the cart with junk, even from his booster seat in the cart.  Choso does a double take at his younger brother, as if the question registered a second late.

“What?” Is all he can muster.

Yuji blinks back at him.

“Do you have a crush on her?” He repeated himself, tilting his head and widening his eyes as he studied his big brother.

“Wh-why do you ask that?” He stammers over his words, although he wishes he would have reacted a little more coolly.  Did she say something? Did he give something away? Where in the world would Yuji pick up on that?

“I dunno,” Yuji shrugs.  “Ce-bause you should” 

Choso forgets the cereal boxes he was looking at, turning all of his attention to his little brother, since now he deemed this conversation required all of it.

“I should, huh?” He repeats curiously.  “What’s that mean, booger?” 

“She’s nice,” Yuji says bluntly, and Choso laughs softly at the reasoning.  “And funny.  And a good cook,” 

He continues to list all of his own favorite qualities of (y/n), sure that most of these reasons are perfect enough for his big brother to have romantic feelings for her.  At five years old, the most Yuji knew about romance was that the prince kissed the princess and everyone was happy, but it was a decent start.  He only wanted that same happiness for his big brother- and (y/n)-san- after all.

“She has a lot of movies.  And she’s really pretty” 

Choso smiles at his brother, finally settling on a brand of cereal and tossing it into the cart behind him.

“That so?” He asks teasingly.  “You sure you don’t have a little crush, booger?” 

“No!” Yuji squeals and begins to giggle.  His cheeks are red just from the accusation, and Choso can’t help but laugh at the display.  “She’s too old, Choso-nii!”

“Right answer,” Choso remarked, pushing the cart out of the aisle and weaving into the next one.  “But why the sudden interest, hm?” 

“Well…” Yuji drawled, glancing around the aisles to avoid his brother’s eyes.  “If you had a crush on her, and she had a crush on you, then you could live together, and we could get an even bigger house, with more toys, and we could eat all our breakfasts and dinners together, and watch movies together, and get a dog-” 

“Woah, woah, woah, you’re laying way too much on me, bud,” Choso chuckles, but he can’t deny that his face was starting to feel warm from all the conclusions Yuji was jumping to.  They were too wholesome for him to take.  “A dog?” 

“A puppy!” Yuji declares.  

To Choso’s luck, conversation steers in the direction of pets, and he spends the rest of their errand explaining why they weren’t getting a dog- or any animal for that matter.  Even if Yuji makes a convincing argument about how cute it’d be.

It’s better, though, because Choso needed some time to recover, and figure out exactly how he’d move out of this crushing stage.  If Yuji had taken notice of it- in his own odd way- then surely (y/n) had to feel it to some degree too, right? 

He just needed to find a good window to ask her out, and take her out properly.  Not just a quick coffee in the morning when Yuji wanted to come over for a bit.  A real date, outside of the building.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso finds that chance one afternoon after swinging by her apartment so Yuji could tell (y/n) all about his day at school.  She’s prepared him a snack today, celery sticks with peanut butter smeared down the middle.  She offered him the raisins to make the ants, but Yuji politely declined, seeing as he doesn’t eat bugs.  She doesn’t argue, simply pops the raisins into her own mouth as she listens to him ramble on and on.

As Yuji drags on his storytelling as long as he can, Choso’s sat at the counter, stealing a celery stick or two that Yuji wasn’t eating while he rambled away.  He’d grown used to his brother’s chatty nature, but he was always surprised how (y/n) was able to sit through it with her full attention.  She never zoned out, and never missed a detail.  In fact, she would ask him more questions to prompt him into talking more.  It was so endearing that Choso can’t help but smile as he watches her interact with Yuji so wholeheartedly.

It takes a grand total of twenty five minutes before Yuji’s done with all his stories for the day.  Choso sends him off to their apartment with his backpack, telling him to get started on his homework, and he’d be over in a few minutes.  Yuji doesn’t find the instruction odd at all, happy to get started on his worksheet for the night.

(y/n), however, gives Choso a puzzled look as he stays behind in her apartment.

“Is everything alright?” She asks on impulse.

While they had talked many times before, and she wouldn’t call him a stranger, this was the first time they were left completely alone, and she was all too aware of that fact.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” He chuckles at her knee jerk reaction to worry.  “I just… wanted to thank you.  Again” 

She still has a puzzled look on her face as she leans against the counter, waiting for a better explanation.

“Thank me?” She repeats softly.  “For what?” 

“For all your help, with Yuji,” Choso explains.  “For the babysitting, and dinners, and… and ants on a log,” He chuckles as his gaze drifts off to the leftover snacks on the counter.  “Our mom passed before Yuji could even get to know her, and I’ve… been doing this for so long it just sort of feels like it’s always just been the two of us, you know?” 

(y/n) hums quietly, keeping her response to a small nod.  Choso’s never opened up about their family history before, and Yuji was only five and never seemed to question his brother’s custody over him, so it wasn’t like (y/n) had ever heard anything like this before.

She wants him to know that she’s listening, that she’d always be here to help the both of them, because she’d grown to care for them both so much.

“But it’s been nice… your help, I mean,” Choso goes on.  “Yuji likes you a lot, a really lot, he never shuts up about you” 

She chuckles at that, the mood lightening again.

“Really?” She asks quietly, as if the boy could hear from across the hall.

“Yeah,” Choso’s eyes widen with the flair.  “But I’m glad, you know, that he has you.  Someone that’s not me for him to hang out with and talk to” 

“I am too,” She replies sweetly, a smile stretching across her face.  “He’s a really special kid, you’re quite lucky” 

His heart warms up so much he doesn’t think he could take it.

“I know not everyone sees it that way,” He thinks aloud.  “Most people tend to look at us and… want to leave,” 

The smile on her face begins to falter, but (y/n) tries to keep her expression neutral.  She’d never thought much about what other people thought about Choso and Yuji.  Why should she care? She knew them both well enough to know that they were happy, and that Choso was more than capable as his brother’s guardian.

Then his wording dawns a new thought on her.  Did people walk out of his life because of Yuji? The idea makes her sick.  It makes her stomach twist and her heartstrings pull tight.  Friends? Partners? Was Yuji such a dealbreaker that he couldn’t even have companionship?

She feels awful now, crushing on him so immaturely, not taking into account all the possible pasts he’d had with other people that had gone poorly because he had a kid to put to bed at a certain time.

Tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she’s determined not to let a single one fall.

“Anyways,” Choso clears his throat, laughing nervously as he looks back up at her again.  “I just think it’s important that you know how glad I am- that- that we both are- to have you around” He finishes with a small smile, his nerves eating away at his insides.

“Of course,” She mumbles back, her throat tightening up too much for her to speak any louder.  “Like I said, Yuji’s a special kid.  I want to be good to him,” She says, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she tries to feign joy, even with a heavy heart.  Then, she says, “And I want to be a good friend to you, too” 

His nerves come crashing down on him in an instant.  It piles up and morphs into something else entirely- something worse.  Dread.

He hopes that his expression remains neutral as he holds eye contact with her.  His mind battles itself as he tries to come up with what to say next.  They both sit there for a few painfully silent seconds as Choso weighs his options.

If he were a smoother man, one who was better with his words,  he would’ve taken his chance.  He would’ve articulated all of his thoughts in just the right way and let her know that he was starting to harbor a crush on her that was reaching embarrassing levels.  He’d crack a joke to lighten the mood after the confession, and then invite her out for a drink, or dinner- hell, maybe even both.

Those few seconds seemed to last too long but went by quick all at once.  The fact of the matter was that she was good for them.  She was good for Yuji, attentive and loving and so, so patient.  It was clear that she cared for him, and Yuji never hesitated to voice how much he enjoyed (y/n’s) companionship.

Choso was sure if he were to cross the wrong line now, he’d not only create an awkward tension with his neighbor, but also ruin the good thing that Yuji had going as well.  She was some idealized morph of a babysitter and a friend for him, someone he could go to when he needed help with homework, or to show her the toy he picked out with his allowance.  And at the end of the day, Choso wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did something to take that away.

So he swallowed whatever he was going to say, gave (y/n) a small smile, and nodded his head back at her.

“You are a good friend” He finally answers her with quiet agreement.

She assumes he’s a bit embarrassed to say something so corny, so she lets out a little laugh and begins to clean up the snack dishes off the counter.  Choso lingers around her place a little longer until he can’t take it anymore, bidding her goodbye with the request that she makes more snacks for their visits.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Despite Choso’s adamant attempts at convincing his little brother that he didn’t see (y/n) as anything other than a friend, Yuji was never fully convinced.  Choso wasn’t sure what it was that made Yuji so sure that there was something between them- one sided or otherwise- but he was relentless about it.  Any time they saw her in passing, as soon as he was alone with his big brother, Yuji would make some comment or another about it.

In the boy’s defense, the two were spending a lot more time around each other these days.  (y/n) had taken Choso’s words to heart and began preparing an after school snack every day, so when Yuji popped by for his usual visit, Choso was always in tow.  No matter what she’d prepared he was all over it.   A package of fruit snacks or homemade banana muffins, Choso was accepting the snack as if it were a bountiful harvest.

The brothers seemed to stay longer and longer in the passing weeks, and soon these visits became routine.  It didn’t take long, just under a month before Yuji was committed to making it an everyday occurrence.  But what began as a quick visit for a snack and then to jabber on to (y/n) about his day at school soon turned into something else, too.

Yuji would move on, often sitting on the floor at (y/n’s) little coffee table to do his homework, and Choso would hang out in her kitchen for a bit longer so they could catch up on the events Yuji was less than interested in.  Her work, his work, and anything that came to mind at all to keep the conversation from ceasing.  There were some days Choso overstayed his welcome so much that Yuji would want to go back to their apartment, and Choso would still stay longer at (y/n’s), drinking two more cups of tea than he would’ve liked, but any excuse to sit with her at the counter a little bit longer.

And then one day, he’d struck gold.

“I’m sorry it’s so hot in here, I’ve got the windows cracked but without a breeze it doesn’t really do much,” (y/n) had apologized in passing as she pulled out a few small plates for the snacks she’d made that afternoon.

Truthfully, Choso hadn’t noticed the heat until she brought his attention to it.  He was far too enamored with the cute pink apron she’d tied around herself.  She always wore it when she’d baked something- so he knew that when she opened the door to let him and Yuji in today that they were in for a very good afternoon snack.

“The AC’s been broken so long I forget I’m used to it, so it’s alright if you boys want to take your cookies to go” 

“Cookies!?” Yuji had squealed and raced into the kitchen, savoring the lingering scent of fresh baked cookies before it could evaporate.

Again, Choso almost missed his queue.  (y/n) had taken to referring to them as you boys a couple of weeks ago, something he’d picked up on the very first time she’d said it.  It was nothing special, really, it was a casual form of referring to them both, but god the sweet way her voice formed those words he could almost be deluded into believing it was because they were her boys, and the domesticity of it all had him reeling.

Luckily, he came back down to earth soon enough.

“Your AC’s broken?” He furrowed his brow and tilted his head curiously.  “Have you told maintenance about it?” 

(y/n) makes a face that’s somewhere between amusement and a wince, before plating up two cookies for Yuji.  He thanked her four or five times before he took the plate to the table and began to gobble them away.

“I… try not to call them if I don’t have to,” She explains to him, side eyeing Yuji at the table to be sure he was too focused on his cookies to eavesdrop.  “It’s just the AC anyways, I have a fan in my room and during the day the open windows are no problem” 

Choso’s expression doesn’t let up, his confusion getting ahead of him.

“And why don’t you call maintenance..?” He pushes, knowing that the nervous smile on her face wasn’t for nothing.

“Eh, well, um, when I first moved in and had some issues I called for them, but one of the guys really wanted my number… and then when that didn’t work he tried leaving me his, and it was just this… whole weird thing” 

She shakes her head and keeps her focus on packaging up the leftover cookies in a little tupperware container.  Unfortunately, she misses the amused little smirk on his face as he leans into the counter.

“So you’d rather sweat through the summer than tell a guy you’re not interested?” He asks, and that finally earns her attention.  Her eyes narrow at him slightly before she crosses her arms defensively.

“Oh, I made it clear that I wasn’t interested,” She mutters.  “How does turning down a phone number five times not scream uninterested?” 

Choso chuckles at that.

“Want me to take a look at it?” 

She looks surprised at first, and he’s not sure if it’s because of the offer itself or if she was genuinely shocked he had a clue what he was doing, but the look wears off into a soft smile.

“Really?” It comes out in an astonished murmur, before her eyes go wide and then she’s coming around the counter to stand closer to him, apparently still in disbelief that he’d do such a thing.  “You’d do that?” 

He laughs again, this time with a creeping smile trying to turn into a full blown grin.

“Yeah, of course,” He says, and she only brightens further at the promise.  “Least I can do to repay you for watching Yuji, for free” He reminds her, and she gives him a look that tells him what she always swears by- she’d do it for free as many times as they need- before brightening again.

To her surprise, again, Choso’s incredibly handy.  He told her he didn’t mind if she had something else to do, or hang out with Yuji while he was keeping busy in his coloring book, but she couldn’t help but watch while he tinkered around with the air conditioning unit.  It didn’t take him long to solve the issue at all, and when he had it all set up and it kicked into life she was cheering so excitedly Yuji even came over to enjoy the fresh gust of sweet cool air.

He ended up staying the rest of the night, fixing the squeaky vent, and the delayed garbage disposal, until he and Yuji couldn’t turn down her offer of dinner.  Well, Yuji vehemently agreed, Choso took a little bit of convincing.  He was eventually swayed by the gentle “Least I can do to repay you for fixing up my place, for free” that (y/n) uttered.

And just like the afternoon had gotten away from them, the evening soon did too.  Once dinner was finished the remainder sat on the table for a good hour as conversation poured out.  Yuji was enthusiastic in complimenting her food, only kissing up just a little in order to get an extra cookie with his dessert.

Choso was adamant in helping her clean up, despite her many assurances that she could handle it herself.

“C’mon, help me show Yuji how to be a proper guest,” He’d muttered, plucking the freshly washed dish out of her hand to dry off.  (y/n) made a face, knowing he’d offered just the right excuse to get her to give in.  Choso grinned back at her.  “That’s more like it” 

It was embarrassing how his smile had her heart racing, but she couldn’t deny it, and she certainly couldn’t help it.  All she could do was keep her head down and her focus on washing the dishes.

“Thanks again for dinner,” Choso murmured after a few minutes of diligent dish washing and drying.  He peeked a glance over at her, but it was clear that she was avoiding his gaze.  “It’s nice to have a home cooked meal.  Not that I can’t cook! I’m a great cook actually- I should really repay the favor- I just mean it’s nice to… be treated to one” 

No matter how hard she bites down on her lip, (y/n) can’t keep herself from giggling at his rambling.  While he’s been talking to her a lot more this past month or so, it’s often when prompted, and when he’s the first to speak, she could tell that he kept himself reserved.

It was refreshingly heartwarming to watch him stammer over his words now.

“Well… I wouldn’t turn that down,” She admits quietly, and it takes all the courage she can muster to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.  “But Yuji told me his favorite meal was chicken nuggets, so I’m not sure how convinced I am of your cooking ability” 

Choso turns towards her, catching her off guard by their close proximity, but she doesn’t shy away under his gaze.

“He’s five,” He argues with a playful roll of his eyes.  (y/n) snickers, hesitating as she turns back to washing up the last plate in the sink.  “But fine.  I’ll make him his own dinner, so you and I can enjoy something more refined, if that’s what you so please” 

The idea of just the two of them, eating a dinner he’s cooked, alone, has her cheeks burning up so quickly she can’t stand to look at him again.  So instead she murmurs out a weak agreement, and quickly excuses herself to check in on Yuji.

Yuji had sort of been playing with his action figures, but he’d mostly watched his brother and (y/n) whisper and laugh between themselves as they did the dishes at an excruciatingly slow pace.  He knew he wasn’t just seeing things, he knew what the giggling meant.  At least, in his own warped and childlike way.  He didn’t care to think about it too deeply, not because he was five, but because he wanted to accept what he was being shown at it’s face value-  his big brother finally making a true friend.

So when it was time for the brothers to go home, Yuji made sure to hug (y/n) extra long.  Even when she’d tried to pull away and stand up, he squeezed his arms tight around her.  If he held on long enough, maybe it would be enough for her to understand just how important she was to the both of them.  So (y/n) chuckled, returning the favor with an affectionate squeeze and a pat on his back before he finally let her go with the brightest smile on his gap-toothed face.

And then he’s tugging on his brother’s pant leg gently, before pushing his hand against the back of his knee and sending him stumbling towards (y/n).  Yuji’s not a toddler, he very well could have used his words to tell his big brother what he wanted him to do.

Choso catches his footing with ease but it’s his expression he can’t cover up.  A nervous smile and widened eyes as he silently scolds his little brother for the childish action.  He’s only met with that giant grin before he turns to (y/n).

She has the warmest smile on her face, as if she holds nothing but endearment for the embarrassing display.  He’s lucky at this moment, because she’s the first to step forward and raise her arms.  If it weren’t for her, Choso’s sure he would’ve fumbled this chance.

Her touch is delicate, as if the frame of his shoulders doesn’t double hers, as if she’s not reaching on the tips of her toes to fully wrap her arms around his neck before squeezing on.  Even her embrace is so thoughtfully gentle.  He can’t help but think it’s all for Yuji’s sake- he’s the one that prompted this little goodbye display, not that Choso is complaining- but he supposes she’s trying to appease the five year old while not crossing an unspoken boundary with him as well.

Choso overthinks this quick hug down every avenue he can, before realizing that he has to make sure she knows there’s no boundary in sight, so he circles his arms around her waist, returning the same soft squeeze as best he could.  He hoped there was still enough distance between them that she couldn’t feel just how seriously his heart took the casual affection, because it was pounding in his ears like it was trying to alert him.

It’s over in a matter of seconds, but he relishes in the way her hands slide across his shoulder blades before she steps away and drops them to her sides.  If he wasn’t dead sober and anchored in this moment, he might’ve purred.

It dawns on Choso that he might be the slightest bit touch starved.

There’s a pink to her cheeks now paired with her doughy smile, and he could almost stand here and admire how pretty she looks when she’s being bashful, no matter how embarrassing it would be to let time lapse as he did so.

“Well,” The word comes out of her in a wispy breath, and she smooths her hands over the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before continuing, brightening her smile as she glances between her visitors.  “I’ll see you boys after school tomorrow, yeah?”

Their responses overlap, but couldn’t have been more further apart

“Okay!” Yuji says with nothing short of glee.

“Of course” 

Choso’s voice is quieter than his brother’s, but it’s filled with such earnestness that it has (y/n) blinking back at him as if he’s just sworn a blood oath to her.  Her lips part as her eyes grow round and she’s at a loss of what’s normal in saying goodbye to your neighbor who you’re sort of friends with and you sort of have a crush on.  

All she can manage is a twitchy smile as she leads them to the door.  Yuji skips across the hall with delight.  Choso lingers for an extra moment and when his eyes meet hers, she finds herself gripping onto the edge of her door with a little more force.  Her eyes wander over the length of the black ink adorning his face before meeting his gaze.

“Thanks again for dinner,” He’s still speaking with that same low and steady tone.  (y/n) tried to gulp down the lump in her throat as she held his eye contact.  “I’ll text you about when I owe you one?” 

Unable to clear the block in her voice, she gives him a smile and a nod.  She hopes he doesn’t react awkwardly to her lack of verbal response, and he doesn’t.  In fact his timid smile turns into a beam.  It somehow makes his lips look even more plush and kissable- 

Her eyes shoot back up to his as she returns the grin and mumbles a pathetic sort of goodbye.  When she finally is able to shut the door behind him she heaves out a breath she hadn’t known was the source of the lump in her throat.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Choso started to reach out more, by whatever means necessary.  Anything to spend a little more time talking to her.

He texted first more, found excuses to stop by her apartment, and always lingered for too long when dropping off and picking up Yuji.  He even started playing the daily Wordle just to have something more to talk to her about. 

There were moments that he swore she felt what he did.  Little things, perhaps in the way she looked at him, or the sweet way she spoke quietly when it was just the two of them.  Choso was sure he wasn’t imagining things, because why else would she look at him like that? Why else would she always call his name when saying hello or goodbye?

[y/n]: u up? 12:47 a.m.

Even with the progress Choso felt he’d made in getting closer to her, this was completely new territory.

As late as it was, he’d been aimlessly scrolling through his phone, so when that little notification popped up he’d clicked on it right away.  He didn’t dare start typing- it would be humiliating if he created a bubble in the chat in the same second her message had sent- but he was upright and staring at the screen in disbelief.  

Soon enough a typing bubble appeared, and he gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he awaited further context.

Would it be ‘sorry, wrong person!’ or was she genuinely reaching out to him at this hour? It had been some time since he’d received one of these tell-tale messages, but his heart still raced with the anticipation.

Finally, her text appeared on his screen.

[y/n]: took a guy home after a date and he’s not taking the hint to leave.  mind popping over with an excuse so he’ll go? 12:49 a.m.

Choso’s out of his bed and sliding his feet into his slippers before he even starts typing up his response.  

But with how quickly he’s out the door he figures there’s no point in texting back a confirmation, seeing as he’s crossed the hall between their apartments and knocking on her door before the clock ticks to 12:50.

There’s the faintest sound of shuffling from inside, and he thinks he can make out that (y/n) is saying something, but he’s not sure what.  She opens the door and greets him with a brief second of pure relief and joy upon seeing him.

Only a brief second, however, as her expression morphs as soon as her eyes wander away from his face and nearly bulge out of her head.  In his rush to get out the door he’d forgotten to pull on a shirt- or maybe he’d decided it just wasn’t a necessity, he wasn’t sure himself.

Her mouth moves, but when no words come out, Choso takes it upon himself to deliver his golden, life saving excuse.

“Hey, (y/n/n), got any tea?” 

Honestly, it’s the first thing he comes up with.  It’s not the greatest lie of all time, but as soon as he asks for it he realizes his throat is a little parched and a warm cup of tea would be perfect for getting him to relax back in bed after this.  (y/n) let out the smallest of scoffs, the corner of her mouth tilting upward as she stares back at him as if to ask ‘a nickname and tea? is that the best you can do?’ 

He fully grins back at her, and as soon as she’s stepping out of the doorway he’s inviting himself in and making his way to the kitchen.  He doesn’t even spare a glance towards the man sitting on the couch, even though he’s blatantly watching Choso like a hawk as he casually rummages through (y/n’s) cabinets.  He’d been over often enough now that he knew where she kept everything he’d need, and he figured the more he made himself at home, the more this loser would feel threatened and leave.

“Uh- who’s this?” The man asked, still gawking at Choso and his naked torso, but the question is clearly directed at (y/n).

“Oh, this is Choso,” (y/n) replies sweetly.  She’s still standing at the door, a bit unsure of what to do with herself.  As much as she was hoping he would get her text and come to her rescue, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now.  “He’s my… neighbor”

Choso smirks to himself as he sets the kettle on the stove, and then finally turns to give her late night visitor a once over.

He’s not typically a jealous man, it just wasn’t in his nature.  However, the feeling he’s flooded with now as he stares down the wincing man who appeared to be half-hiding himself on the couch while Choso stared him down was something akin to jealousy.  It was pride.  All it took was one look for Choso to know that when this guy left her place, he would never return.  He would never see her again.  Even if he didn’t choose this for the sake of his own good, Choso would make sure of it.

What was she doing with this coward to begin with? He wonders as he watches the man stand from his seat.  Piercing violet eyes track his every movement, from the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, to the bob in his throat when he swallows.

Choso’s smirk widens, and his gaze softens when it’s casted towards (y/n).

She looks unsure of what to do with herself, but as soon as she meets his eyes she shuffles towards the kitchen, putting more distance between herself and her unnamed visitor.

“You always have your neighbors over for tea in the middle of the night?” The man asks, perplexed by the entire situation.  He already has his doubts that this isn’t staged, but his obvious nerves make him lose all credibility.

Choso only chuckles to himself, casually leaning into her kitchen counter, closing some of the distance between himself and (y/n).  She casts him a look, and he can’t be too sure, but he assumes it means she doesn’t know what to say, so he takes over.

“I’m certainly the only one she opens the door for,” Choso responds with a smoothness that surprises even him.  He watches the realization sink in on the stranger’s face, before he moves closer to (y/n), poking her in the hip to gain her attention once more.  “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Her eyes are wide, and set on his in a deadlock.  Choso doesn’t think she even manages a blink.  She’s already rendered speechless by the unexpected comment.

But she closes her mouth and nods her head.  Not at her date for the evening- no, she doesn’t turn to look at him or even peek at him from the corner of her eye.  Her gaze is still locked on Choso’s as she nods back at him in a weak motion.  In that moment it’s not even an act for him when he chuckles back at her, his smile growing softer.

“Fucking fantastic” The man mutters, but he’s already grabbing his jacket off it’s hook and was making for the door without further explanation.  

Choso’s quite happy with himself, knowing that he made a complete stranger walk out of (y/n’s) apartment without having to be told to.  He didn’t have to do anything at all, really, all he did was show up and let himself in for a cup of tea.  It was only convenience that he’d opted out of a shirt for the whole ordeal.

The door opens and shuts and it takes that entire time for (y/n) to find her voice.

She smacks him on the arm first, though.

“What?” Choso chuckles as he rubs the spot in mock pain.

“You know what,” She hisses back at him, but the undeniable smile on her face makes her sound more playful than threatening.  “What the hell was that?” She even giggles through the question.  If she’s even trying to come across as scolding, Choso wouldn’t be able to take her seriously for even a second.  

“It worked, didn’t it?” He asks.

(y/n) makes a face at him.  A face that says enough.  She knows he’s full of shit.

The kettle begins to whistle just in time, and without giving her an answer, Choso turns around to put together his cup of tea.  (y/n) has to bring her hand to her mouth, afraid that just one heavier breath and he’d realize that her eyes had been straining to hold eye contact with him.

Of course this was ridiculous, because she knew Choso was a well built man.  But having him shirtless and in her kitchen as if he belonged there was making her face heat up faster than she could control it.  She pressed the pads of her fingers into her cheek in an attempt to cool down the skin.

“What was up with him anyways?” Choso asked, his back still turned to her as he focused on his drink.

(y/n) dodges the question.

“Are you really staying over for tea right now?” 

When he turns back to her, mug in hand and the slightest of furrows in his brow, she worries that she just might not be strong enough to handle this one.  Dropping her hand from her face, she straightens up her posture.

His hair is down, the thought is like poison, shooting through her train of thought and completely dissolving it.  It looks soft.  

“It was a nice enough evening…” She explains slowly, despite telling herself that she didn’t owe him any sort of explanation, there was a compulsion to tell him all about it.  Choso merely raises a brow before he sips his chamomile.  “I thought a few drinks back here would be nice, too.  Turns out he’s only got one good story and the rest is… boring” 

He laughs at that, lips curling into a grin and shoulders shaking just a little  bit.  (y/n) links her fingers together as she leans into her counter with a sigh.

“Think I could’ve told you that.  I’d have to give the guy credit for one good story.  Just running of first impressions, that is” 

(y/n) huffs again, this time a pout gracing her lips.

“Yeah, well, next time I’ll run it by you then” She mutters, and she doesn’t really mean it, but Choso takes an interest in the comment anyways.

“You’ll run it by me?” He smirks to himself.  “And what makes you think I’m gonna green light any more of these ‘nice enough evenings’, hm?”

“You’ve got a point.  What do you know about dating?” 

“What do you?” He throws the question back at her, and that pout is returning in an instant.

And then she’s dropping her head in her hands and groaning aloud.

“It’s stupid that you’re right,” She admits, dragging her hands down her face before setting her jaw in her palms.  “I don’t know what I’m doing at all.  What the hell is wrong with me? The last three dates I tried to go on have been like this.  Not terrible.  Not great.  Certainly not special or memorable- besides the sting of failure” 

Choso’s quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in before he spoke his piece.  His lips purse before he sets his mug down and takes a few steps closer.  (y/n) watches, but she doesn’t lift her head from her defeated position.

“It’s not you,” He says, and she’s surprised by the serious tone in his voice.  “Besides, you managed three dates, yeah? That’s something” 

“That’s just this week” (y/n) mutters.

Choso can’t hide the change in expression, and she must notice his shock, because her lips tilt into an amused little smile.

“Did you think I just sat around and waited to play babysitter?” She teased quietly.  “Not that I don’t love it, but I do have a life, y’know” 

He should say something, backtrack and explain himself before she assumes that he’s never given her free time a second thought.  He thought about it too much, really.  And had he known she’d been spending it on useless dates, he would’ve involved himself sooner.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.  Dating just… sucks” 

It’s lame advice, Choso knows that as soon as it comes out, but (y/n) nods her head in agreement before leaning off the counter and wrapping her arms around herself.

“It does suck,” She murmurs back.  “But… I’m scared that if I don’t put myself out there now then I won’t have…” She trails off, and a look of realization flashes over her features before she shakes her head.  “It’s late,” She says then.  “You should probably g-” 

“What were you going to say?” 

She blinks back at him, pausing as if to take a second to make sure he really meant it.  She chews on the inside of her cheek for an anxious beat before she opens her mouth again.

“What if I waste my time and never meet anyone that wants the things that I want and then I’ll be alone and it will all have been for… nothing…?” 

He smiles, but there’s a bittersweetness to it.  (y/n) seals her lips shut as she waits for his response.  She fears she’s embarrassed herself enough for one night, now it was his turn.

“You’re not wasting your time,” Choso starts slowly.  “You’re just… figuring out what you don’t want.  That’s just as important, don’t you think?”

A smile begins to crack in her features, and he feels relief to know that he’s at least sort of helping.

“Well, then so far we’ve crossed boring, creep, and loser off the list” She grumbles, and Choso chuckles to himself.

“Where does a girl like you find these losers?” 

He’d gotten too comfortable too fast and he realizes it as soon as her eyes widen up at him, not too much, but enough that he notices, and he knows that she’s caught the choice words of his loose lips.  A slight smile pulls on her parted lips as she thinks through just how she wants to call him out on it, but for right now, she relishes in the way his cheeks flush and his own eyes widen in panic.

“A girl like me, huh?” She teases, her soft smile turning into a full blown grin.  “And what do you mean by that, Choso?”

Again, he thinks she must know what she’s doing when his name drips from her voice like sweet honey.  Nothing else has ever weakened his insides quite like it.

“You know what I mean,” He tries to play it off casually, but her eyes narrow on him in disbelief.  “You’re super nice, and… easy to talk to” 

“Oh, right, I forget that super nice gets you everywhere” She exaggerates.

“You don’t need me to stand here and tell you you’re a catch, (y/n),” Choso sighs, and the playful crinkle in her nose dissipates, the rest of her features softening along with it.  “You have to know that” 

It’s quiet for a moment, and she’s staring at him with what he worries is disbelief.  Was she not taking him seriously? Did she think he was only joking? Well that simply wouldn’t do, he couldn’t possibly leave her apartment now until he was sure she knew just how wrong she was.

So he ignores the nerves prickling his skin warning him not to cross too many lines at once and he speaks up again.

“C’mon, I mean, obvious stuff aside, anyone would be lucky to score a date with you.  You’re excellent company, I mean, you don’t know how often I lose time when I’m talking with you.  It’s never a dull moment, even when it’s quiet, and I think that’s just about the most important quality in a person, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but even if she wanted to answer, Choso gives her no time to do so.  “You’re funny, in the witty way that I can’t keep up with and in the silly way that Yuji’s so taken with.  You’re patient, and generous, and kind,”

Her lips part, but there’s nothing she could possibly say to him right now.  Her mind has been wiped blank.  All that she can hear now are the words he’s saying, and she’s not even sure that this isn’t all a dream at this moment and she’s not about to wake up in her bed with a funny feeling.  Her heart was beating so hard she feared it would leap right out of her chest and she’s helpless to stop it.  Nonetheless, she wants nothing more than for him to keep going.

“You’re smart, and capable of anything, and you’re not afraid of chasing the things you want,” Choso goes on, and he doesn’t stutter once.  Every word is spoken with precision, as though rehearsed.  Or maybe it just came to him that naturally.  “Yuji loves you and that’s all the more I could ever want.  You’re the first person he’s really attached himself to, you know.  He never… he never really cared for anyone the way he cares about you,” 

Tears have started to well up in her eyes, but it’s still not enough to stop the seamless train of thought he’s spewing out.  If he notices this, he doesn’t comment on it.  He just keeps going.

“But it’s clear that he loves you and it’s clear as day why.  Anyone with eyes and an ounce of a brain would feel the same.  And they should.  And it’s really a pity that so far no one’s managed to behave the way you deserve, and treat you the way you deserve” 

She thinks he’s finished, only because he’s paused long enough and he’s staring at her now as if everything he’d just said was now being displayed on a teleprompter before him.  At first, all she can manage is a small gasp to clear the lump in her throat.

“You-” She starts, but her voice fails her and she has to shake her head to convince herself to ignore her nerves.  “You really mean all of that?” 

It’s a whisper so soft that even a creak in the floorboards would have overpowered her voice.  But the apartment is dead silent.  All she can do is stand frozen in place as she watches him and waits for his answer, for the confirmation that he really had just said the kindest, most beautiful things anyone has ever said to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

During his pause, she steps closer, glossy eyes remaining focused on him, as if a single blink could cause her to miss his next words.  There had been few moments in her life that she’d felt worried over missing- but right now if you’d asked her to name them she would probably come up short.

“I… don’t say things I don’t mean,” He tells her in a moment of unfiltered honesty- which he was on a streak with tonight.  

(y/n) gives him a faint nod in return as she tries to blink away the wetness in her eyes.  There wasn’t a chance she’d let herself cry in front of him right now- not at one in the morning after he already had to rescue her from a dead end date.

For all of his forwardness, Choso’s throat has gone so dry he knows that his next words will come out in a strained out scratch.  He feels like there’s a spotlight on him, even though the lighting in her apartment is so dim there’s shadows casted over the expanse of her left cheek.  It paints her into a silhouette that he believes could be hung in every museum.  When he tries to take a gulp to ease the dryness of his throat, it’s faintly audible.

A quiet sound of amusement breezes past her lips before they quirk up into a smile so gentle Choso swears only a soft stroke of a paintbrush could capture it in it’s full essence.  He might just have to pick up the hobby of painting if he wishes to fully preserve this image.  Honesty strikes him again in his moment of inspiration.

“(y/n) you should know that I’m starting to have feelings for you,” 

It’s a murmured confession, spoken so genuinely from the bottom of his heart that (y/n) can feel them filling her own heart with a gooey warmth.

“Well, not starting, I- I’ve known about it for a while, actually,” 

He seems to stammer and partially mumble over his words as soon as he’d started to speak with certainty, but it doesn’t make them any less true.  (y/n) knows this, and he can tell in the way her eyes seem to hold stars as she stares at him with pure marvel.  It makes him concerned that she’s never heard these things before.

“But, y’know, I didn’t want to say anything because of how much Yuuji adored you and I didn’t want to do anything to disrupt that,” 

Before he knows it, Choso’s rambling, but (y/n’s) patient and takes in everything he has to say.  She’s never seen him unload so many thoughts like this, and even with her heart on the brink of beating out of her chest, she takes in everything he has to say.

“In the past he’s sort of just shut down around anyone I’ve gone out with, or tried to, at least.  It’s just not like him, to be quiet, or shy.  I hated seeing him like that.  I don’t know what it was, why he never got comfortable around anyone, and I didn’t know if it would always be like that…” 

Choso trails off for a moment, starting to realize just how much oversharing he was doing tonight.  Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was that look she’d held in her eyes all night, like she was holding something back as well, but whatever finally pushed him over the edge to spill his every hidden thought was a driving force so strong nothing could have prevented it now.

“But then he found you and he was just… taken,” A quiet laugh falls from his lips as he thinks fondly about the adoration his little brother holds for her.  Sheepishly, he finishes his train of thought.  “And I guess that rubbed off on me, too” 

Her lips are wobbly at first as they form a wider smile, and then she’s making a short shuffle forward, putting them both toe to toe.

“You didn’t want to tell me you had feelings for me because you thought Yuuji would be upset?” She asks him, like maybe she’s not sure she understood him right.  Choso seals his lips together as he gives a faint nod in return.  Her head tilts to the side, her round eyes narrowing as an aura of curiosity settling over her as she gazes up at him.  “And you think I’m a catch?” She repeats his earlier statement, and lets out a breathless and short laugh when she watches color flush his face.  “So… what’s so different now that you decided to tell me?” 

Her fingers latch around the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, twisting at the material in short nervous movements.  However the clear sign of nervousness is easy to overlook when she’s staring at him so intensely.  His sincerity tonight had been a blessing that she was going to milk for all it’s worth.  Once she got a taste for how deeply Choso felt his feelings, she just had to know more, even if it meant pushing him to share more.  Although she hoped her eagerness wouldn’t drive him out of her home, she hoped he’d stay until she got her fill of all of his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” He sighs, and his shoulders fall slightly as he visibly relaxes.  It makes her wonder if he’d been tense this whole time, if she’d put him on edge by standing there while he made confession after confession.  The thought makes her swoon just a little bit harder- if possible.  “I guess… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore,” 

Her brows cinch together as her expression morphs, into something he worries is pity, so he frowns.

“I did try, just for the record” He tells her suddenly.  The change in tone makes her chuckle in her confusion.

“Tried what?” 

“Tried telling you,” Choso clarifies, “Months ago” 

“What?” She shakes her head in disbelief, a slight frown tugging on her lips as she tries to recall when he was referring to.  Surely she’d remember an attempt of him asking her out, or telling her about his feelings.  Yet nothing comes to mind.  “You did no such thing” 

“I did,” He insists, laughing humorlessly, but the sound lightens the mood between them and (y/n) finds herself laughing along with him.  Although hers holds more amusement than his had.  “And then you put me in the friend-zone.  Or neighbor-zone.  Or Yuji’s brother-zone” 

“I absolutely did not!” Her voice cracks as it raises to it’s usual volume, the soft whispers of earlier long gone as another laugh rips out of her chest at his insinuation.  “Don’t tell me you actually thought that” 

The seriousness in her voice has his heart strings tightening to their fullest extent, straining and quivering on the brink of snapping completely.  At this point, Choso thinks that she’s well aware of the emotional warfare she’s using against him, but then he catches that glossy look she still held in her eyes and he thinks she’s just as weakened by her own ardency as he was by his.

“Trust me, had I known different, things would be different” He says, raising a hand to drag a finger in the space between them to make the context clear.

Soft surprise adorns her face as he’s the first to surrender in their game of dancing around it, and it’s quiet for a few beats as she waits for her heart to calm down enough where she can speak without a tremble in her words.

“I’m telling you different right now, aren’t I?” 

The silence of her apartment is deafening.  Seconds pass like years as he stares back at her, his eyes shifting between hers as quickly as they possibly could, a sudden desperation in being able to read her expression clear on him.  Patience was just a part of Choso’s nature- it had to be when he alone was raising a five year old like Yuji- but any thought of moving slowly was thrown out the window as soon as he was finally sure of that look in her eyes.

“I want to kiss you,” 

He moves forward then, his hands moving as fast as his words as they land on her jaw, and despite their swiftness his touch is gentle.  They cup under her face with thoughtful softness, and as soon as he’s touching her, his patience is restored.  Suddenly he has all the time in the world, and he lets his gaze slowly trace over every little feature of her face until he’s sure he’s memorized every last inch.  (y/n’s) expectant before him, her lashes fluttering as her eyes shift repeatedly between his lips and his own gaze.  He wasn’t taking the hint, and unfortunately, her voice was caught in her throat.  She’d seemed to have lost it as soon as the rough pad of his thumb began to trace the length of her jaw to her chin.

After taking his sweet time, he pushes closer, tilting her chin upwards so that his nose could just barely graze past hers.

“Can I kiss you?” 

The murmured request is so close to her own lips she can practically feel them moving against her own.  Her nod of approval isn’t complete before the minimal space left between them is finally closed, and warm lips press against her own with the same gentleness of his hands.

She returns the softness at first, moving her lips against his with an experimental curiosity, but it’s not long before she can stop herself from reaching out to him.  His bare chest is warm under her palms, and at first contact all she does is press her hands against it, fingers splayed out to feel every warm inch of skin that she can.  Choso’s fingers flex and tense against her jaw upon the sensation that he hadn’t felt in so long it was almost unfamiliar.

But her touch was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.  The pads of her fingers were soft as they moved across his skin, slow but sure as they mapped over his chest and around his shoulders, yet the light graze of her nails was just enough sharpness to leave goosebumps in the wake of her path.  Even when a sigh is shuddered out of him, she doesn’t part from their kiss.

Choso can’t help but slide a large hand around the back of her neck, keeping her close to him even as they both begin to gasp for air between kisses.  The soft newness of it all is quickly replaced by a hot need to not stop.  It’s evident in the way their touches begin to lose shyness, and soon their grabbing and pulling at one another as their kisses grow messy and uncoordinated.

She presses as close to him as she can get, even with her own body heat reaching uncomfortable peaks, she still desired to feel his warmth.  More than that, though, she wanted to card her hands through his hair- and she did just that.  She’s rewarded with a soft whimper against her lips when her fingers dive into the roots and tug just a little bit before combing through the rest of it.

When she moves to do it again, a pair of hands seize her hips, and their lips are properly parted for the first time since he’d first kissed her as he lifts her up with ease, turning to drop her onto her kitchen counter before pressing close to catch her lips with his again.  She’s rendered breathless from the movement- after already trying to catch up in her breathing during their sudden makeout session- but there’s not an ounce of protest in her when Choso pulls her knees apart in order to slot himself between her legs and continue where they left off.

Her arms wind around his neck as she pulls him down the short distance to kiss him properly.  The height difference between them now isn’t nearly as drastic as when she was standing, but it’s still noticeable even as she’s perched on the counter.

Her heaving chest only becomes noticeable to Choso once his hands are making their way from her thighs towards her ribs, where he feels them expanding and contracting at an alarming rate.  He lets out a chuckle and breaks apart from her, his amusement only furthered when her lips chase after his, despite her panting for air.

“(y/n), sweetheart,” He murmurs affectionately as he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger to halt her from kissing him again.  When her eyes open to meet his, her eyelids hang heavy over her dilated pupils, and Choso’s so struck with awe at her beauty in this moment he’d nearly forgotten why he’d stopped kissing her in the first place.  “Want you to catch your breath” He mumbles, the pad of his thumb reaching up to drag over the swollen plushness of her bottom lip.

Somehow, they look even more kissable than before.  Especially paired with her flushed cheeks and the dreamy look in her eyes as she peers up at him through her heavy and fluttering eyelashes.

She leans forward, but she doesn’t try to kiss him again.  She’s just filled with such a strong desire to stay close to him that she couldn’t bear to be the few inches apart that he’d distanced them with.  He smiles softly at her as her hand begins to sweetly comb through his hair.  It’s not the same motion as before, it holds a different feeling in the way she moves slowly, and with no grip at all, and yet his chest is filled with the same overwhelming adoration as when she’d had her hands fisted in it.  He decides to let his hair hang loose more often from here on out.

“I can’t stay,” He murmurs after a long but comfortable silence between them.  “Yuji…” He trails off, but she gets the idea, and nods back at him.

“I understand,” She whispers back, followed by a bittersweet smile.  “It’s alright…” 

“He’s staying at Megumi’s this weekend, though,” He mentions, his eyes following the movement of his thumb as it grazes over her lip, enamored with the way the plushness of it gave in even under his gentle touch.  “We’ll go on a proper date then, hm?” He offers with a hopeful look.

“Sure,” (y/n) smiles, and then playfully purses her lips to peck a light kiss against his thumb.  “Or you could just come over for tea again,” She suggests instead, followed by a short giggle.

His cheeks and neck flush with a rosy hue, but he nods back at her in agreement.  

It was a date.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, does this mean you’ll get married?” 

Yuji’s blunt question has Choso choking on his drink.  Burying her face in his shoulder, (y/n) tries to suppress her laughter, but it’s obvious in the way she snorts and her shoulders shake.  Meanwhile, Yuji’s still sat on the floor in front of them, half watching the movie that’s playing and half checking on the two of them as he awaits an answer.

After a few weeks of going out and ensuring one another that their change in relationship was working, more than working, Choso and (y/n) thought it was the proper time to break the news to the little boy.  It wasn’t much of a surprise when he was excited to hear it, but the first question that came to his mind wasn’t as expected.

“Well, maybe, buddy, let’s just cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?” (y/n) answers him with a kind smile, even though the idea of marriage so early in their relationship as her face burning and her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Okay” Yuji accepts the answer and goes back to watching the movie for a bit.

Choso finally clears his throat and settles back into his comfortable position on the couch, (y/n) still tucked under his arm and pressed into his side in just the way he liked, and after a few minutes of mentally calming himself down he really did relax again.

“We’ll still live together and get a dog though, right, Choso-nii?” 

(y/n) could feel every muscle in his body tense, but she still can’t help but look over at him with a questioning raise in her brow and a purse in her lips as she smiled.

“You told him we were getting a dog?” She hums curiously, waiting for his explanation of his little brother’s question.

A nervous, breathless laugh falls from his lips.

“You’re only focused on the dog part?” He asks, wondering what her thoughts were on the living together part.  (y/n) hums, and shrugs a shoulder before she leans into him again, her focus on the movie as she settles against his shoulder comfortably.

“Well, I’m more of a cat person,” She replies, knowing fully well that wasn’t what he was implying.  “Then again, a house vote would be fair” 

Yuji seems enthusiastic about this compromise, and doesn’t seem to have any more questions for his big brother and his new girlfriend as he completely immersed himself in the movie once more.

With the arm he had wrapped around her, Choso tugs (y/n) a little bit closer, until he’s able to drop a kiss on the top of her head, before he leans into her as well and a comfortable silence settles over the room as they all grow sleepy watching a film together.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ hold me, love me, touch me, honey // be the first who ever did ] 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

[sunarc]

After Hours

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 1

toji x reader

Synopsis: What happens when you meet someone willing to make all you naughty dreams come true?

CW: virginity loss, corruption kink, size kink, alcohol consumption, shy reader, toji is a player, cum eating, Shiu is being a daddy in this per usual, modern au, afab reader, bar owner toji, 5.1k words, please let me know if i missed anything

A/N:I’m so happy to present day 1 of Kinktober!!! I’m so excited for y’all to read please enjoy!

You sipped your drink to the sound of rock music playing loudly from the speakers. You watched as hot sweaty bodies crowded around a pool table swinging money in the air while yelling out bets. The bar was lively, it was loud and there you sat, quietly at the end of the bar, watching everyone, enjoying the show. The bar had people from all walks of life come through. Some would come through and tell you stories you could never imagine, some telling you of where they were headed and some just a little sleezy looking for a quick fuck. You were never the type for hookups. You honestly couldn’t imagine being with a random stranger for one fun night. You enjoyed being in this space. It was fun to see so many different people and get to experience another’s life just for a few minutes.

“I can’t possibly imagine doing something so scary like that” you said, shocked listening to the story being told by the big figure sitting in front of you smoking a cigarette.

“You wouldn’t believe all of the crazy things I’ve done sweetheart” he pulled a long drag from his cigarette then turned to you.

“You got any stories?” he asked

“Who? Me? I- uh no I don’t really do much” you fumbled over your words suddenly becoming nervous by the question.

It was true, you didn’t really do much. You were honestly as innocent as they come. You didn’t drink, not because you thought it was bad but more so because the taste of alcohol was quite repulsive. You had never had a boyfriend before, hell you had never engaged in sex before. You just never found someone worth giving yourself away to. The idea was honestly scary. Having to get naked and show your body to another person was honestly scary yet something about it felt so intriguing. Something about sleeping with someone and having them take you in ways you wouldn’t dare speak about out loud was almost thrilling. You shook the thought away.

“I really mostly like to just hear about other people’s stories, I find them fascinating really.” You said, giving a shy smile.

He nodded his head silently taking in your words.

“Hm, I guess I could understand” he took a drag finishing his cigarette. “But what about living?”

You gave a confused look.

Living?

“What do you mean, I am living?” the question almost sounded silly

“No, you're listening to other people live. You’re basically living vicariously through other people.” He scoffed. “Why not enjoy the thrills of life yourself instead of hearing it from other people?”

The question left you speechless. You sat staring at the man's mouth slightly open unsure of what to say.

Why weren’t you living?

You went to work and came to this hole in the wall bar every night just to listen to stories and drink juice. When were you going to be the one telling the stories?

“You bothering my customers Shiu?” a loud voice interrupted your thoughts.

Toji, the bar owner, walked over to the two of you cleaning a glass with a smirk.

“Bothering? I could never. I think that might be your job.” he chuckled.

“How you doing pretty? Need another drink?” Toji asked, looking down at your almost empty glass.

“Hi Toji, I’m well today. I’d love another juice thankyou” you said smiling softly.

Ever since you first walked into the bar Toji had been as kind as ever. His smile was always inviting. He was tall, buff and handsome. He always left you feeling starstruck as he moved behind the counter muscles flexing in his tight shirt smiling handsomely at customers as they handed him large tips. He always gave you free drinks mostly because you only ordered juice. He was even nice enough to let you stay after closing and keep him company while he cleaned and told you stories of before he owned the bar.

“Your friend wasn’t bothering me” you said as he handed you a full glass. “I was probably bothering him,” you laughed.

Toji smiled and leaned forward on his elbows.

“I’m sure a pretty girl like you could never bother anyone.”

You looked down smiling at the remark. Toji was a big flirt with everyone. If a pretty girl walked in and looked like she had big pockets he would somehow always flirt his way into an unusually large tip.

“I was just offering a little advice,” Shiu said as he pulled out another cigarette, putting it between his lips.

“Last time you gave someone advice they died” Toji commented as he fixed a drink for a regular.

“They took it a little too literally, that isn’t my fault” he lit the cigarette pulling a long drag.

The two bantered back and forth arguing over his advice.

“He actually told me something really helpful” You interrupted.

“Oh yeah and what was it exactly?” Toji leaned over the counter dangerously close to you. He bit his lip as he stared at you waiting for you to answer. You shied away suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze.

“I- well it was just about me living life that’s all” you stumbled over your words.

Toji smirked at you

“Now why would he say such a thing doll?” he seemed intrigued as he sat up and poured a shot for himself and Shui.

“I guess , well , I’m just not living out my fantasies…” your voice died out towards the end of your sentence.

“Not living out your fantasies?” Toji rested his head in his hand with a smirk playing on his face.

“Tell me more about that” his voice was low as he asked for more. You sat in front of him watching his movements almost hypnotized by the way he spoke so smoothly. Toji was an intimidating guy. No matter how many nights you spent sitting chatting with him about any and everything you never failed to grow nervous under his dark gaze.

“I uh I shouldn’t talk too much about it” you let out a nervous chuckle.

Toji sat up letting out a small sigh.

“All right then, keep your secrets,” he laughed.

You gave a shy smile before sipping your drink. It would have been hard to admit in front of two obviously attractive men that you fantasized about losing your virginity. The topic seemed so taboo. You could imagine them pushing for more details. Why hadn’t you lost your virginity? What are you waiting for? Are you some kind of saint, too good for sex?None of the above. The right person just hasn’t come along yet, someone to send chills through your body just from their voice. You wanted someone who would make you feel something, someone worth it. You sat in silence stuck on the previous conversation. You hadn’t noticed the bar slowly emptying out. Drunk bodies stumbled out slurring words as they called their rides.

“You sticking with me, pretty girl?” Toji’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You nodded your head with a small smile, it wouldn’t hurt having another late night conversation with Toji while he closed.You looked around noticing Shui pulling out his last cigarette before throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I’m leaving you, two have a good night” he turned to you “I meant what I said live a little, kid”

“Hey what about me Shiu got any advice for me ?” he teased

Shiu walked to the door before turning around

“Hm, actually yes, go to hell” he smirked and left without another word.

Toji scuffed as he wiped down the counter.

“Asshole,” he mumbled.

You laughed at the encounter and looked around at the now empty bar. It was nice to look at apart from the scattered beer and glasses. The bar had nice decor, it was one of the main factors that attracted you to the place.

“So any new stories for me?” you asked, watching as Toji came from behind the counter with a broom sweeping the place.

“You like my stories that much?” he asked, half his attention on you, half on cleaning.

“You spun around on the bar stool laughing to yourself at the childish action.

“I think you have fun things to say” you thinking to yourself for a moment “And well I guess I really like your voice” you mumbled the last part.

Toji chuckled, stopping his actions. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You like my voice huh?”

You looked away suddenly embarrassed by your confession.

“I mean well you- it” you stammered

“It’s okay doll” Toji walked closer to you lowering his voice in the process.

“I could talk all you want” he said “ But I’d more so like to hear something about you” he said as he came close standing between your legs as you sat facing him on the stool.

“Something about me?” you asked slightly confused.

“Yeah, I mean you sit with me while I clean all the time and you listen to me go on and on about stories for days yet, you never talk to me about yourself.” he said leaning closer to you.

Your breath hitched feeling the heat from his body as he closed the space between you two.

“For example I’d love to continue that conversation from earlier, you know the one about those fantasies of yours.”

He leaned down eye level to you just a breath away. His lips were only inches away from yours. You wanted to lean in just to see how soft his lips would be. Would he taste like alcohol or something sweeter? How soft would his lips be? You leaned into him only for him to reach behind you picking up the spray bottle and rag. He walked away with a smirk and began wiping down tables.

“Talk to me doll” he said “ I mean I’ve told you so many things before it's only fair you tell me a secret or two” his voice was sensual. It sent tingles through your body to your core. You crossed your legs squeezing tight at the sound.

“Well” you said contemplating if you should speak your thoughts.

Toji stopped his cleaning to look at you

“It's just us two here, you can tell me anything” he said softly.

You looked around as if you’d somehow find someone sitting in the corner listening in. To no surprise the room was empty apart from Toji’s large muscular body standing a few feet away from you.

“I guess I just fantasize about losing my virginity,” you said, voice fading away.

You felt embarrassed at your confession. You wanted to hide away. Lose your virgin, what a foolish fantasy. Why not something like travel the world or start a business, that’s a real fantasy but no there you sat legs crossed squeezed searching for friction. “I mean- well there's more but I well” your words seemed to scramble as you spoke. Toji stood in front of you smiling at your truth.

“I think that’s a cute fantasy.” he said

He leaned against the table and folded his arm.

“I’d love to hear more about this…” he bowed his head, hiding his smile, “fantasy,” he said finishing his sentence.

“What? More?” you almost yelled shocked by his words

He licked his lips while making eye contact.

“Yeah” he repeated “More”

He got up from the table and began to roam around the room with a sigh.

“I mean there’s gotta be something more to this little fantasy of yours”

He walked over to you fiddling with the edge of your skirt. His fingers brushed against your skin making you feel hot all over.

“What is it, do you have some fantasy of getting tied up for your first time?”

His fingers danced across your skin. He looked down concentrated on his hand movements.

“Or do you just want a nice big cock to stretch you out?”

His words went straight to your core. You were too shocked by the vulgarity of it all to say anything. No one had ever spoken to you like that before. No one’s words had ever made you throb the way his did.He chuckled at your silence. Toji stepped away and went back to cleaning. You almost had the urge to snatch his arm and drag him back to you. You could never see yourself being that brave though.

“Well what about you?” you muttered too shy to speak up.

“Hm? Me?” he asked looking up from his task.

“Oh well I’ve got a few fantasies I guess” He stood with a concentrated look thinking about his own fantasies.

Your mind was running a relay race imagining the lewd words that could possibly come from him. At the same time you wondered what he could possibly fantasize about? What had he not done? You leaned forward intrigued with what he would say.

“Tell me,” you said, eyes wide with interest.

He laughed at your eagerness

“You really wanna know?” he asked, leaning against the table.

You nodded your head, excitement coursing through you.

“I do,” you said in a hushed voice.

Toji walked to you leaving his rag behind. His footsteps seemed so loud in the empty room. He filled up so much space with confidence alone.

“I guess I have that same fantasy”

His finger traced your jawline while his eyes stared deep into yours.

“I’ve been thinking about it alot lately,” he said as he licked his lips. “I can't stop thinking about how good it would feel stretching out a fresh virgin hole. The thought of making someone so innocent beg for my cock while I fuck them dumb” his bit his lip and looked down towards your plump ones “That shit just drives me crazy doll”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. You couldn’t help the throbbing that went to your core. The thought of having someone like Toji give you everything you ever desired sent shivers through you. You knew he’d make you feel better than any toy you had could ever make you feel. The way his lips looked so wet and soft, the way his muscles strained against his shirt, how he always smelled good always made your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear. You sat starstruck, unable to form the words you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what to say. Would you beg him to fuck you, to take your virginity right then and there? Would you tell him that's nice and try to change the subject? No you had to take chances,

Live a little kid

You heard Shiu’s words replay in your mind like a record.

Now was the time to live a little.

“You got something on your mind?” Toji asked as if he was just waiting for you to say the word.

“I can help” the words flew out your mouth at the speed of light.

You wanted to hide away after hearing yourself. Help what? Clean? You couldn't pull yourself together.

Toji hummed satisfied with your answer.

“You want to help?” he asked “Are you asking me to bend you over and fuck you in this bar?”

He leaned in to whisper the words in your ear. Hearing him say it out loud almost felt wrong.

“I do- I mean I am- wait I mean” you fumbled over your words too overcome with embarrassment to function.

Toji’s laughter caught you off guard. He grabbed you by the jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was wet. He tasted so sweet even though he had been drinking. His lips were soft. So soft you felt yourself melting into him. Your hands gripped the side of the stool almost tearing at the leather. Toji’s hand moved down to your neck pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. His kiss was delicate yet was filled with hunger. His fingers danced up your skirt feeling the heat between your legs.

“No panties huh, you’re not as innocent as i thought” he smiled as he inched his fingers closer to your core feeling the way you were practically leaking.

“This can’t possibly be your first go around. You come in wearing these short skirts” he pressed a kiss to your neck and licked a long strip up to your jaw.

“You're wearing nothing underneath. I bet you were just begging for someone like me to peek and see that pretty little pussy dripping all over my seats.”

You were left in a daze from his fingers just barely brushing against where you needed him most to how he sucked your neck leaving your skin feeling raw. His scent filled your every waking being. He was all that you could feel, see, touch, smell. It was almost as if he had become the only person left in the world and all that you wanted was for him to touch you; to touch you in ways no one had ever done before. You needed him. Your mind was desperately pleading for him to slip his fingers inside of you, to feel your gummy walls and finally give you the pleasure that you were desperately clinging onto him for.

“Please touch me” you whimpered out.

Your voice felt so weak. You were so needy for him, your fingers dug into his arm pulling him closer.

“Such a needy little thing” he chuckled

His fingers moved along your legs teasing you with every touch.

“I need more than that love. Where do you need me” he voiced with his head still in the crook of your neck sucking and licking at your skin.

You grabbed his hand, dragging it up your thigh to place it between your folds. Words seemed to fail you so taking action was your only choice.

“Here”

Toji smiled at your courage. His fingers maneuvered up and down your core feeling how wet you were. He rubbed soothing circles onto the bundle of nerves earning him a soft moan from you.

“Have you ever been stuffed with someone’s fingers?” he asked in a low voice

You shook your head while meeting his eyes.Toji free hand grabbed your jaw.

“Words Princess”

“No,” you whimpered.

Your answer seemed to have a strong effect on him. The thought of watching your innocence slip away from you at his hand was enough to have his cock straining against his pants.

“I’m gonna put a finger in and I’ll let you know each time I do just so you don’t get all shy on me when your pussy’s sucking my fingers in” he smiled.

His thumb kept a steady pace rubbing quick circles while he slipped his first finger into your hole.

“That’s it” he said, rocking his finger in and out of your eyes watching the way your mouth widened to an ‘o’ shape while moans spilled past your lips.

“You like that?” He placed a wet kiss on your lips.”Pussy feels so tight baby, I wonder how you’re gonna take my cock”

You let out a whine while your hips grinded down onto his hand.

“More please, I need more”

Toji’s eyes lit up at your words.

“Oh? My nasty girl wants more huh” He smirked “I’m putting in a second finger now dirty girl, I’ll give you what you want”

His second finger slipped in with ease. A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you up groaning at the way your hole squeezed around his fingers.

“So wet for me doll.” His breath ghosted against your lips as his fingers continued to fuck in and out of you making a mess below you. You let out weak moans and gasp. This feeling of his fingers massaging your gummy walls was something you had never experienced before. You felt the world revolving around you. Your heart was racing in your chest. Everything seemed so loud at that moment. The way his breaths sounded sharp as his fingers picked up speed. The drips of water from the sink he had left running after washing dishes, The cars speeding by not noticing how you were falling apart giving yourself away to him. If a car were to slow down just for a few seconds it would have been so easy to just peek into the window to see how your legs were spread open. Your hips were grinding down onto him. It would have been so easy just to see how much of a mess you were making for his fingers. That seemed to send a thrill through you, having some unknown stranger turn their head and watch you lose your virginity and take a cock for the first time.

“God, it feels so good” you let out a loud gasp unable to contain yourself.

The feeling of him dipping his fingers into you was so overwhelming you thought you might lose your mind. You had never touched yourself like this before. You always stayed away from fucking your self with you fingers to afraid to stick a finger in always preferring to massage your clit. Little did you know the desire and pleasure that would come with having someone shove their fingers deep into you, you were practically drooling from the feeling. You felt a pit forming in your stomach the feeling so foreign all you could do was moan and curse about how good he felt.

“Come on doll” Toji rasped out “ Give it to me, make me proud, show me how pretty you look making a mess on my fingers.”

His words were enough to send you spiraling. You let out loud unfiltered moans. This was new, something better than ever. You wanted- no craved more. This feeling of ecstasy felt like a drug taking over you. You let out heavy breathes as you came down from your high.

“Don’t think we’re done just yet doll, I want you to take your first cock” Toji said as he lifted you bringing you to the table he had just wiped down.

He pulled your shirt up exposing your breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. You let out a long moan feeling his hot tongue swivel around your nipple. His mouth felt so warm. His hand squeezed and massaged your other breast as he let out a groan. He pulled your skirt off and threw it in a nearby corner.

“You won't be needing that” He said as he took your body in.

He pulled his cock free from his pants and your eyes went wide. Not only was he big, he was thick. You sat staring with a slack jaw fearful that his two fingers weren’t enough to make him fit. He stroked his cock as he rubbed circles on your clit.

“Look at what you do to me doll” he said, voice strained. “Got me so fucking hard I can’t wait to make your pussy cream”

He pushed you down so that your back was laying flat against the table. His arms wrapped around your thighs to pull you to the edge of the table. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit sending shivers through your body.

“Look at you, being so good for me, you ready to take your first cock” he licked his lips staring at your glistening cunt “You ready to make a real mess for me baby?”

The tip of his cock prodded at your hole just barely entering.

“It- It’s too big” you whimpered watching as he held his cock rubbing it through your folds.

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll make it fit” he said, eyes never leaving your hole.

He inched his cock into you achingly slowly watching how your pussy sucked him in taking all that he was giving you. Toji’s eyes rolled back, feeling how tight you were squeezing around him. He had known you'd be tight but never did he imagine you’d have him ready to cum just from sinking himself into you. He stilled inside of you just admiring the warmth and tightness of you. He took a deep breath to gather himself.

“Fuck you feel so good” he whispered the words and you almost didnt hear him.

“I’m gonna take it nice and slow for you princess”

He moved his hips in a slow motion watching the way your face moved from being scrunched up in pain to eyes rolling back enjoying the pleasure of being stuffed full.

“You like that shit” he asked as he rolled his hips into you slowly. His cock felt so delicious inside of you. You wanted this feeling forever. He filled you up so perfectly. You couldn’t fathom the idea of having anyone else fill you up like this. The way his hips rolled into yours meeting your hips with a soft slap left you gasping for air.

“Breathe baby breath” he rubbed soothing circles into your hips.

You sucked in a shaky breath not realizing you had been holding your breath focusing solely on the pleasure of him.

“Come on baby let me hear those moans, I want to hear how you sound taking your first cock” he squeezed your hips as he rocked into you. Toji was holding back. He bit his lip trying to contain himself. He didn’t want to destroy you for your first time. It was taking everything in him not to absolutely wreck you. He made a mental note to himself that the next time he stuffed his cock into you, he’d leaving you a drooling fucked out mess but for now he would be content with just watching the way you’d fall apart taking him your first time.

“Tell me how it feels” he leaned down to pepper wet kisses from your collar to your neck. “First time being so full, tell me where you feel me baby talk to me”

You could barely breathe properly and now you were trying to form sentences.

“So good ugh I feel it all in my tummy it's so big” you slurred.

Your moans were so loud any person walking by would have a perfect show to watch. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about any lingering stares that could possibly be watching through the window. Your mind wandered off to thoughts of someone sneaking looks through the window, digging their hand in their pants and getting off to you creaming on your first cock. What a lewd thought. Your whimpers seemed to repeat like a broken record. You couldn’t help but moan and beg him for more.

“Faster please I need more” you whimpered, hardly able to contain yourself as you bucked your hips upwards into him.

“You sure doll, I don't think I’ll be able to stop if I do” his voice was gruff as he fucked you in a slow pace.

“Please” you begged “I need you so bad”

Toji bit his lip. He grabbed your legs pulling them up so your ankles could rest on his shoulder. He rubbed your stomach feeling where his cock was inside of you. His hands massaged your skin as he grabbed your calf kissing your ankle.

“Be a good girl and take everything I give you then, hm?”

His cocked slammed into you at a pace you did not expect. His hips met yours with a loud slap. Toji’s eyes scanned your body watching every movement. Your back arched off the table as you moaned so loud your voice echoed off the walls.

“Look so pretty taking cock” he groaned “ Mean to tell me I’m the first one to get to see you like this”

His thrust were relentless slamming into you “This sight is too pretty to share.” His thumb rubbed circles onto your clit as he rocked his hips into you.

“That’s it taking me so well doll” His words were going straight to your core.

You could barely form sentences, only strained moans and slurred versions of his name. Your body seemed to fall apart for him. The table under you rocked back and forth with his thrust. If you had half a mind you would be worried that it would break but all you could think of was how you were about to cum. You felt a warmth in your stomach as he fucked you.

“Come one Princess I want you to cum with me. I want to see how messy you get for the first time” his words had your eyes rolling back. You felt so weak barely able to do anything but cum on his cock. Your body didn’t feel like yours. You had never came so hard in your life. He was covered in your juices, soaked from all that you had to give him. Toji’s eyes were looking down focused on the way his cum mixed with yours covered his cock. His movements slowed as he fucked the cum inside of you.

“I don’t like being wasteful” he said as two fingers covered in cum moved between your lips. You sucked his fingers obediently without a second thought. You were in such a daze you would have done anything for him.

“You were so good for me” his voice was low as he leaned down placing kisses on your lips.

Toji felt his heart growing warm. He had never felt so soft for someone before.With any other girl who would have already been zipping up his pants and ordering them a ride but for you it felt different. He wanted to fulfill every fantasy you had. He wanted to be the only one watching you cum. It was either him or nothing at all. You were just too perfect to share. From the way your chest moved trying to catch your breath to the way your plump lips sat open wet from drool had his heart feeling like it might beat out of his chest.

“I want to make all those nasty fantasies of yours come true.” He whispered, kissing your skin cock still stuffed inside of you.

“I want to be the only one to get to see you like this”

🏷️: @karazorel7 , @candyceedea , @fleurettiie , @pressuredtreasure , @plaxxxie , @cloud-lyy , @fictionalthirsting , @smuttyfantasyrecs , @enchantedcherie , @coyloves , @baldi-2 , @pickledwasp , @sanxuus , @fictionsimp , @ibby-miyoshi-nerd , @kiqqnii , @snazzyturtles , @sadlittle-girl , @faumpje , @nvvacanesworld , @no-f34r

[brightbertalt]

just please teach me

michael gavey x bimbo!reader

authors note - i can’t resist this man…..he’s so nerdy and hot. also meant for female!reader

warnings - dumbification, kinda mean michael, a little praise, degradation, perv!michael, the word slut, breeding kink, accidental breeding?

god michael couldn’t wait for this.

it was your first tutoring session with him. after your failed your first math test of the semester, you decided to get some help from the smartest man you knew, who also happened to sit next to you.

“hey, you’re like super smart right?”

you asked him, peeking over at the 100% on his test. he turned his head, internally surprised you were even talking to him.

“uh, yeah. yeah i am. do you need help?”

you nodded, pouting and practically shoving your test in his face.

“i can’t even believe it! i got a 53% on this test, it was like, super hard!”

you complained, crossing your arms; which just so happened to push up your breasts. they looked so good in that tight tank top you were wearing.

“you’re asking me to tutor you?”

you scoffed out of frustration.

“duh! i don’t wanna fail!”

he was going to be your tutor. it sounded like music to his ears. michael gavey was going to be personally teaching the cutest girl he knew.

and annoying.

you yourself weren’t annoying, but the fact that someone like you, who probably didn’t even know which direction an x axis pointed, could get into oxford university. probably on a huge helping of daddy’s money is what he thought. unlike him, who actually earned his place. nonetheless, he would tutor you.

he could have some fun with that.

he saw this situation in porn all the time. dumb schoolgirl goes to someone like himself to get help, and they end up fucking like rabbits. he didn’t have any experience with women in person, but he figured porn was close enough to the real thing, right?

he wondered how sweet your voice would sound begging for him.

“sooooo, does my place sound good? i have such a cute setup it’s like, unbelievable! and im free around 6 tonight.”

“yeah, of course. i guess ill be over then..!”

he knocked on your door, trying to stop his hands from shaking. he adjusted his glasses, waiting for you to open the door.

“mikey! you’re here!”

you opened the door and hugged him. he tried not to audibly moan from the sensation of your boobs pushing against him.

“just michael is fine!”

he blurted out, nervous that you were this close to him. would he even be able to survive this night?

“i dont have any extra chairs, so we can just study on my bed! how’s that?”

you asked, walking in your dorm and sitting on your bed.

he wouldn’t be able to survive. you said that so innocently, as if you didn’t understand what two people could do on a bed. as he walked over to your bed, he didn’t expect anything different. it was adorned with pink pillows and a huge fuzzy pink blanket. it was so you.

“the thing I wasn’t really understanding was number seven. i don’t even know where to start!”

he nodded, grabbing his supplies out of his bag. how could she not understand this one? it was the easiest by far. nonetheless, he explained it in the most basic way he could. you nodded, pretending to understand.

“okay, now you try.”

you smiled dumbly, attempting to try it on your own. you stopped shortly thereafter, flipping the pencil in your hand.

“i just don’t get it michael! maybe math just isn’t for me..”

you leaned in closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. you felt defeated. defeated by some numbers on a page. he sighed in annoyance. he did like this feeling, but he didn’t like your dumb little brain. maybe he could take advantage of that. he only dreamed of that, though. tricking you into pleasing him. giving you a ‘reward’ for finally get 100% on your tests. you’d probably love that too.

“ill probably drop math. its too hard! i dont know how you do it. you’re so smart michael.”

“well you’re not even trying are you? you just have to think, y/n!”

“i am so trying!”

you loosely hugged michael. he could feel himself starting to get hard. why’d you have to be so handsy with him?

“thanks for helping me though! you’re so smart michael.”

he felt himself twitch in his pants. he couldn’t take it anymore. he couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

you felt his lips press against your own soft, glossed lips. he pulled away quickly, already preparing for the worst. you would push him off your bed, throw his bag at him and yell at him to leave. instead, you grabbed his sleeve.

“please don’t leave mikey.”

how could he refuse you?

he moved closer to you, going in for another kiss. you were an aphrodisiac. so irresistible. made for him to fuck.

you shook your head, kissing all over his face.

“it’s totally fine, please just stay here.”

he gently pushed you down onto the bed, kissing and sucking on your neck. fuck, you were so nice. your skin was so soft and plush, and your voice sent him into a spiral.

“is this your first time mikey?”

“y-yeah. i know you probably think that’s pathetic or weird or-“

“mikey. please just fuck me. i don’t care.”

those were the sweetest words he ever heard. he could cum right then and there.

“god, fuck, can i ask you something?”

he asked.

“are you on birth control?”

you shook your head. fuck, for some reason that was even hotter.

“ill pull out, don’t worry.”

you nodded, noticeably absentminded. you were so dumb, and it was so cute to him. he was known around campus for his smarts and talent in math. and now he had, which was quite possibly, the dumbest girl at his university under his thumb. it felt so good.

“i trust you mikey.”

he smirked as he pressed continuous kisses into your neck and chest, experimentally pushing his hands underneath your cute tank top and groping your breasts. you whined underneath him, taking your top and yanking it over your head to expose your chest.

“you’re so cute. just let me take care of you, okay?”

he licked and sucked on your chest, trailing his way down your body until he got to your little cute shorts. god this boy was a freak. you helped him get your shorts off of you, exposing your bare cunt to him. you squeezed your legs together, a feeble attempt in covering yourself.

“why be shy now? you already teased me for half the semester.”

you nodded at his remark, leaning your head back. he teased, kissing up your thighs. michael’s smirk was criminal as he placed a gentle kiss on your pussy. you bucked your hips and moaned on him. he gently prodded your entrance with his long fingers, slowly inserting two of them inside you. he chuckled as he moved his fingers in and out.

“mikey i-“

“you’re what? wet as a bloody fountain? because you are.”

you let out a pornstar-esque moan and feebly grabbed in his direction. you needed him inside you.

“mikey please just fuck me! please!”

you shouted out, rocking your hips into his fingers gently. he grinned and stood up to take off his pants, as well as unzipping his coat.

“i don’t get it.”

you said bluntly, looking up at him.

“what?”

“your shirt. I don’t get it.”

you pointed to his shirt.

‘not all math puns are awful. just sum.’

you shared a moment of brief awkwardness.

“it’s like how the result of an addition-“

“i didn’t ask for more math! just come over here michael!”

he quickly nodded and took off his stupid shirt, leaving it on the floor next to the bed. he climbed over you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“are you sure?”

“please just do it already mikey!”

you whined. he always knew you were bratty. he would love to put you in your place though. he slid himself into you, gasping at the warmth and tightness of your pussy. he slowly slid all the way in, swearing under his breath as he did. you were definitely made for him. so warm, so soft, so perfect. he placed a hand on your lower stomach, feeling himself inside you.

“you’re so warm holy fuck, I can’t believe im inside you right now.”

he blurted out, slowly starting to move. michael was definitely a little above average. so goes the trope of nerdy white guys. the largeness of him made you feel so full, so stuffed. you couldn’t handle it already. tears pricked at your eyes as you slung your legs onto his shoulders. michael wasted no time fucking himself into you, letting out all sorts of lewd noises.

“can’t believe im the one doing this. always thought you’d be with someone like felix, fuck.”

he grabbed at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock. another loud, indecent moan was let out of you.

“im the one fucking you, no one else gets to have this dumb little cunt.”

he tilted his head up, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“im all yours mikey, please just keep fucking me!”

you cried, grabbing onto his hands on your hips. he grabbed your right hand with his left, pressing it right next to your head. his face was right next to yours as well now.

“nothing in that stupid head, huh? nothin’ but me fucking you right now. i always knew you were so simple.”

you clenched around him, leaving him to chuckle under his breath.

“you like that? me calling you dumb? knew you were a slut.”

michael’s smartass attitude definitely never left him. you shook your head unconvincingly. you did like it, but being a brat was so fun.

“i know you like it. you already feel like you’re gonna cum on me. poor little thing. probably forget everything you learned this semester just from this.”

he said with fake sympathy. it was true, you were close. you could feel his thrusts getting more erratic and needy, so you knew he was too. you just remembered you were supposed to have a math lesson today. oh well. you could always just google the answers.

“I don’t think im gonna be able to pull out, you’re so fucking warm and tight I can’t-“

you immediately came to your senses. you were admittedly dumb, but not dumb enough to let michael cum in you.

“michael please pull out-“

“i- fuck!”

he abruptly came inside you, his jaw slack as he aggressively rammed his hips into yours a few more times. the sensation of his filling you up was too much, and your orgasm shortly followed. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily.

“im so sorry y/n, you just-“

“ill figure it out mikey, just hold me.”

and he did. he laid on his side as he traced his thumb on your belly. you fell asleep soon thereafter, together.

[princessbrunette]

Rafe fucking jayj’s step sister to piss him off because he has a feeling your relationship with him goes beyond being step siblings

- 💅🏽

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

rafe has been watching you. he was intrigued truly, how a sweet girl like you wound up being a pogue. he knew you couldn’t be jj’s actual sister, no— you didn’t quite look the same, and the way you and him interacted, even in public was odd. too touchy, yet cautious, overly self aware. shit, he couldn’t blame jj. if a fine piece of ass like you found your way into his family he’d probably do the exact same.

the need to get back at jj came when he went down for technically vandalising toppers boat. technically, it was pope. but pope didn’t have anything that rafe wanted… jj however…

you were stood so shyly at the entrance to the cameron residence, having received a message from ‘ward’ (actually rafe) that he was interested in hiring you, some kind of personal assistant job. but ward was out of town, and rafe was welcoming you inside.

“y’know i—i don’t know what he was thinking inviting you round right now, he’s out of town.” he scratches his temple, squinting apologetically.

“oh…” you fiddle with your fingers, glancing around at the inside of pristine tannyhill.

“yeah… yeah, i’m sorry about that. you want somethin’ to drink? whilst you know, whilst you’re here?” he extends his arm, backing up towards the kitchen.

“oh i couldn’t possibly—”

“please, anything you want.” rafe waves you off as you follow him through to the next room.

“well, if you insist. just a water please, i’m a little parched from riding my bike over here.” he tries not to snicker, thinking about that little pogue-mobile of yours. it was so you, rickety little thing with a pink basket on top. cute, rafe thought.

even the look of a brita water filter seems to slightly excite you and he smiles, filling up a glass and handing it to you. as you drink, he speaks— seemingly making conversation.

“so you’re uh… maybanks sister, right?” he leans on the counter. he sees you stiffen slightly, knowing the two of them have had their quarrels, but jj never really letting you in on the ins and outs. “s’okay, i can separate the two of you. we’re all adults here, right?” he reassures.

you put the glass down on the counter, wiping your wet hand on your dress. “well, he’s my step-brother.” you clarify.

“ah, yeah… yeah i thought so. no one acts like that with their step sibling.” his gaze doesn’t leave yours even when yours flickers away, guilty. right then, that moment there — rafe knew his suspicions were true. he steps back, nodding for you to follow him. “lets go sit down, yeah?”

you feel you have no choice but to follow him, sitting on the large couch now beside him with your hands on your lap. he leans his elbow on his knee, watching you.

“i—i wanna be straight up with you, that okay?” he drawls after the small talk time is up, eyes boring into yours.

“…yeah.”

“i know it’s not my business but i… i feel like your step-brother is doin’ things to you that he shouldn’t be doin’. and… it just wouldn’t be right for me to sit here n’not intervene i mean i’m older than you, right? and — and it’s my duty to watch out n’protect girls like you. i’m… right aren’t I? he’s touching on you?”

“rafe… no.” you shake your head, looking away shyly, clearly scandalised.

“you know it’s not very polite to come to someone’s house n’ lie to them, sweetheart.” he squints one eye, the idea of upsetting him making you nervous.

“no i’m sorry it’s just… it’s not like that, okay? he teaches me stuff. that’s all. i… dont have a lot of experience so he’s helping me. that’s it, i swear.” you break easily, and rafes fighting everything in him not to smirk.

“your brother?” he almost sounds mocking, like he wants to laugh and your brows furrow.

“step brother.”

“yeah i…i dunno, kid. you know you could have anyone on this island. m’serious, with a — a pretty face like that? shit.” he leans back, shaking his head. “even i’d help you out.”

and that’s how he gets you, right there on that couch — because fifteen minutes later he’s got you on his knees, sucking on his tip as you look up for guidance.

“yeah, yeah like that. go ahead n’start twisting your hand for me. that’s right… see, kid? don’t need your brother. you got me now.”

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[lis-likes-fics]

Lab Rats

Pairings: professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader Word Count: 8.2k words Prompt: Sex Pollen Warnings: NSFW, smut, dubcon, professor/student relationship, sex pollen, oral (m!receving), fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, dumbification, name calling, degradation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie... A/N: This is a day late, but I got it done! I hope you enjoy this filthy piece. Dr. Crane is so much fun to write for!

The call of your name stalled you from packing the rest of your items, your fingers tingling and your ears burning at the sound of your name breaching his lips.

“Could you stay after class, please?” Professor Crane asked, looking upon you with a set smile.

You remained calm. He would read any unnecessary excitement in the way you breathed.

You nodded, trying to sink back into the rest of the class, packing their bags to leave. You pulled the zipper of your bag closed. When enough people left the room, you made your way to the front with your bag on your person.

You had taken a certain fascination with Dr. Jonathan Crane the first moment you stepped into his class. He was handsome and charming, he knew how to teach and he always managed to pull you in.

He wasn't soft on anyone, even his favorite student usually didn't receive much special treatment. On the first day of classes, he told everyone that 50% of the class would be walking out of the door by the end of the week, and he was right. Better for you, that just meant less people to steal his attention away, less competition when it came to acing his tests and projects.

You loved his class, not just for the topic—obviously. Over the past couple of weeks, you felt his shift. His usual objectivity had switched and he seemed to point you out a little more. He praised your work, he accepted all of your input in class, he would even email you personally (sometimes talk to you after class) on your work to tell you how well you were doing.

You knew your attraction toward him would never amount to anything, it would never work out. But your fantasy was enough to quench your hunger for his attention and affection.

“Yes, sir?” you asked as you walked up to him.

Crane smiled at you. “I have a few matters I would like to speak with you privately… Could you spare the time?”

The strength of your heartbeat was extra hard for a few moments as you took in his words. You nod, “Of course, professor.”

“Step into my office?” he asked, gesturing toward the door with his name on it.

You took the first step, walking toward the door as he followed behind. You were suddenly very self-conscious of the way that you walked as you opened the door.

He moved around you when you were both inside, allowing you to shut the door as he took his spot in front of his desk. He leaned back on it, crossing his legs at the ankles and putting his hands in his pockets.

You knew this one. He was presenting his body language to seem more relaxed in order to ease you from your guard so he could properly manipulate you into agreeing with whatever he said.

He sighed, taking a moment to look upon you. “I would like you to know that I admire you and your work greatly,” he began, “and this is what allows me to ask this of you so freely.”

You blinked, anticipating his offer. “Yes, professor?”

He smiled, almost slyly. “I am conducting an experiment of sorts, a scientific breakthrough that I would like you to be the face of.”

You stared at him, your eyes wider than you meant for them to be as you slowly recovered. “I… Me?”

He nodded. “As part of a selection of students.”

Your heart sunk slightly at that. One of a group, but his first choice, at least…

“Oh,” you nodded. “Alright, uhm… Why—What, uh…” You reprimanded yourself for your lack of eloquence. “What is the experiment? What kind is it?”

“Unfortunately,” he breathed in deep, letting out a long sigh, “that must be kept a secret until I come to a close. It's not quite done—a few last minute tweaks need to be made…” He looked off slightly, thinking to himself for a split second. His attention turned back to you, looking at you a little closer, bringing you in.

He spoke slowly, leaning off the desk to stand. He moved a little closer, and you felt his hand brush your elbow. “But I would like to know that you would be willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice when I do contact you for it.”

He took another step forward, closer now to you. You knew this one, too. He was making it personal, making you compliant. You knew this trick, it was Psychology 101.

But it worked anyway.

“Oh,” you licked your bottom lip: your own trick. “Okay.”

He smiled, raising his brows, “Yes?” he nodded.

You returned the nod. “Yes, sir,” you smiled. “I…would be honored to.”

He held your eye contact, not letting go as he nodded. “Excellent!” he exclaimed gently. He leaned in a little, close to your face, too close for a professor talking to his student. “You really are my greatest student.”

You smiled, perhaps too much. You feel too giggly. “I'm…so glad.”

He moved his hand from your elbow to raise a finger, shaking it gently at you. “Remember,” he teased, “at a moment’s notice.”

You nodded definitely. “Of course.”

He offered you a charming smile before stepping out of your space, breaking the spell. He tilted his head toward you. “You may go.” Just as you were lifting your foot, he held out a hand toward you. “And thank you very much.”

With one last nod, you stepped back. “Not a problem, sir.”

You stepped out of his office, closing the door gently behind you. Gently biting your lip, you unsilenced your phone as you left his classroom.

~

The shrill ring of your phone cut through the late night and woke you brutally from your slumber. You gasped as you reluctantly blinked through the dark to direct your eyes to the abusive light emanating from the phone. The clock next to it on the nightstand read far past midnight. You moaned deeply, speaking but only forming actual words toward the middle of your complaint.

“...’f i’s ‘nother sp’m…” You wiped your face and covered your eyes as you answered the phone, not quite awake but too tired to deal with waking up.

“Hullo?”

The voice on the other end woke you up just a little more, not quite clearing the fog in your brain but allowing you to put more effort into sounding a little more awake.

“It's time.”

Time for wh—Oh.

You suddenly remembered Dr. Crane's experiment, the one he wanted to test with you. Your gut clenched and your heart picked up and startled you awake. It was time.

“Oh.”

~

You pressed your finger into the doorbell, checking the address of Dr. Crane's house out of nerves a fifth time and the time for the twentieth. You wrapped your coat tighter around you, the chilly breeze persuaded by the winter air of Gotham so close to Christmas time. They would be letting you out for the break soon…

The door opened, a little crack and a creak to allow you entry.

“Just go along with whatever happens.”

You thought back to his instructions on the phone, vague instructions you briefly considered not trusting. But he was your professor. He had your best interests at heart, surely.

You reached your hand toward the knob, timidly reaching. He wasn't at the door. Should you actually go in?

“Don't waste time asking questions. Everything will be explained when you get there.”

You pushed the door open and walked inside, shucking your coat off as you nervously looked around the house. You shut the door behind you, hanging your coat on the rack by the entrance and leaving your shoes next to the ones by the door.

You swallowed thickly as you looked around, stepping further inside. “Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “Dr. Crane? Are you still home?”

You were met with silence as you continued to quietly step through the living room, the air so still that you could feel your heart beating heavily in your chest. You were so nervous, your blood was pumping and you were bordering on scared as you tried to keep your breath level. Your flesh raised with goosebumps. It was too quiet.

You almost didn't want to speak again, afraid to break the silence and disturb something unknown lurking around the corner.

“Dr. Crane?” you called again, suddenly feeling very warm and very frightened. Where was he? “Professor?”

“In here.”

The voice was distant when he spoke, giving you some reprieve from the silence but feeding your anxiety, fueling your fight-or-flight.

“Where?” you wondered aloud, stepping past the archway that led into the hall.

“Just a few steps more…”

Could he see you? Was he taunting you on purpose? Perhaps part of the experiment?

The anxiety curled in your stomach, kept your footsteps slow and your breath shallow and a scream ready in your throat in case you needed it.

You were reluctant to speak. “Sir?” You pressed your palm along the wall of the hall and began to peer around the corner, into a room on the left. Maybe Dr. Crane was waiting there…

A strange, strong mist invaded your senses as you turned the corner. Raring up the scream, you gasped and your eyes stung, resulting in a heavy cough that took a moment to die down. You braced yourself on the wall, holding yourself up as you tried to clear your eyes, clouded by tears from both the coughing and the mist burning your eyes. You watched the mist clear, breathing in desperately for air.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Dr. Crane's voice came, then his hands on your shoulders as he pulled you in and guided you into the room. “That's good,” he bid.

He held you steady as you blinked rapidly and steadied your breath. “I took the liberty of testing my hypothesis that it would work faster if the patient is already running on adrenaline.”

You wiped the tears roughly from your eyes. “Professor, what–?”

“Hush,” he cut you off, bringing you to the bed. “Sit here,” he said, lowering you down.

He pulled up a chair, sitting across from you before handing you a handkerchief. You took it greedily and began wiping your face. You sighed deeply into the fabric, holding your head in your hands as you adjusted.

“Okay,” he said, smiling. “Now that's done…the substance you've just inhaled is an aphrodisiac of my own design.”

You stilled entirely, looking up at him tentatively as your eyes widened. You blinked, shaking your head as you tried to organize your thoughts. It was an… an—“Aphrodisiac…” you muttered.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Aphrodisiac.”

You were suddenly dizzy, processing his words too slowly as you put together what this meant. An experiment with an aphrodisiac… and you were the “face” of it all?

“The word itself comes from the Greek name ‘Aphrodite’, which—I'm sure you know—is the Greek goddess of Sex.” You looked up at him as he began explaining, rolling up the sleeves of his white button down and dusting off his black slacks. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he continued, “As far as the function of the substance is concerned, it affects hormone levels and accelerates blood flood, increasing chemicals in your brain like—dopamine, glutamic acid, nitric oxide, oxytocin to enhance sexual arousal.” He sounded like he was reading straight out of a book as he spoke with his hands, illustrating the drug to you to paint pretty pictures for you to apply to what was happening to you, in your own body.

It was getting warm, the physical exertion from the adrenaline, likely. The suspense and anxiety from before, along with the shock of Dr. Crane's mist had thrust you into an adrenaline rush. That was surely all it was.

“It relaxes smooth muscles,” he continued. “Stimulates erections, increases arousal.”

You fought the urge to clench your thighs at the idea of it. He was your psych professor and you were his student, and he was testing aphrodisiacs on you and telling you how it made boners and stiff nipples and fucking arousal.

“Professor,” you muttered.

He stopped you, raising a finger. “Please hold. I'm not finished.” He cleared his throat and thought for a moment. “Where was I? Aphrodisiacs are commonly found in natural foods or herbs, though the change in sexual desire is usually unnoticed when these substances—like chocolates, most commonly, or oysters and figs and strawberries—are consumed.”

You clenched the handkerchief in your hand, rubbing your palms against your thighs roughly. “Professor Crane.” You felt like your head was beginning to spin.

He sighed at you, seemingly disappointed. “I hope you're interrupting me for a good reason.”

You stared at him straight on, nearly glaring as a thin layer of sweat began to form over your skin. “It's hot,” you huffed.

“Well, that's to be expected,” he shrugged. He looked you up and down, smiling with a gentle chuckle. “How rude of me. How are you feeling?”

You brought the handkerchief to your forehead, breathing uneasily. “Hot.”

“As you've already stated.” He waved his hand dismissively. “What else?”

You didn't want to say: considering the heat was spreading through your body and scouring your nerves with a flush of lust. The last thing you wanted to do was explain that you were horny to your professor.

He tilted his head at your hesitation, noticing the way you turned away, closed yourself off. He raised a brow. “Come on,” he bid. He didn't sound like he was encouraging you, he sounded like he was taunting you. “Don't leave any details. This is an experiment, might I remind you. If you leave anything out, it could hinder the research.”

“Um,” you struggled, your voice trembling a little. You felt like your whole body would soon follow suit. You felt shaky, like you’d fall if you tried to stand. “Uh.” You couldn’t figure out what to say—it was humiliating to say the least, looking at your professor and forcing your eyes to stay on his face, because fuck…you wanted him so bad.

He raised a brow, waiting expectantly, “Well?”

You couldn’t. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “It’s just hot.”

He reached his hand out and pressed the back of his palm to your forehead. The coolness of his skin against the heat of your face was like a salve to a cruel burn. You leaned into him, stifling your moan as best you could as your eyes fluttered at the contact. It felt so good.

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending not to notice your weakness as he shifted his hand to your temple. “You’re burning up.” You knew he was taunting you when his hand slipped down to your neck, pressing against your scorching skin and sending goosebumps through your body. Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest any time soon.

When he pulled his hand away, you felt like you could die on the spot as the fever-like heat came back immediately after. You tried to remain impartial, shaking your head to gather your thoughts enough to speak.

“Why couldn’t you have just performed the experiment on your own?” you questioned, wiping your forehead roughly to be rid of the light sheen of sweat coating your skin. “I don’t see how an external test subject was necessary.” Remaining as professional as possible seemed like your best course of action. Insanity or not, this was still a test—you were sure of it—and there was no way you would fail a personal test with Professor Crane and risk falling from such high esteem with him.

He reached behind him where his suit jacket lay neatly on the back of his seat. He removed a second handkerchief from an inside pocket with a dramatic whip, taking his glasses off to clean them as he shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “If my theory is correct, the test must be performed with another person present. The substance works by increasing adrenaline. It’s quite similar to my fear toxin.”

You shook your head, “Fear toxin–”

“The adrenaline builds and builds,” he continued, cutting you off with little regard for you, as he glanced through the lenses, “increases the heart rate so much that—if left unresolved—the subject would experience a heart rate so high…” He finished polishing them off before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and directing his analytical gaze toward you once more. With a lurking smile full of sadistic amusement, he spoke in a low voice, “...your little heart would burst in your chest.”

The anxiety curled in your chest until it began its fast evolution to fear. All these emotions mixing within you wasn’t good for your health—and, apparently, neither was this toxin he had infected you with. “...What?” you said. It was the only thing you could manage to say.

He shrugged, tilting his head with a slight roll of his eyes. “Well,” he began to correct himself, “not literally, of course. It’s highly improbable. But your heart would just…stop.” His eyes seemed to darken as he explained it to you, staring too deeply into your own anxious gaze as he seemed to enjoy every minute of this. With a breath, he began again. “And while my toxin has an antidote, there is only one way to reverse the effects of this aphrodisiac.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which is?”

He smirked, though he tried to hide it. “Sexual gratification.”

If you weren’t burning up, your blood would run cold…and then you’d run just as hot as you were running now. Your head was definitely spinning now, images of forbidden desires—which you had pushed down, down to the depths of your mind—flooding to the surface. So many fantasies, so many urges, being unlocked once more as you thought about…reversing the effects.

But, for the millionth time,  he was your professor. It didn’t matter how many times you’d fantasized about him having you on your knees, his hands in your hair, his lips all over your body…it couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.

You tried not to clear your throat. It would make you more guilty than you already were. “W-well–” Damn it, you cringed. “–even if that’s true…gratification can be…achieved through…”

He raised a brow, happy to mock you. “Through?”

You took in a steadying breath, looking down at your legs to avoid looking up at him. Your skin was burning, your nerves were tingling with an increasing desire “Through self-pleasure. Masturbation. Couldn’t it?” You were already this far, there was no use in being shy.

But even then…

He tilted his head, sighing. “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “You see, once it has been ingested in any form, only another person's hormones can slow the process—which is why you’re still so in control right now–” you didn’t feel in control, “–but even that isn’t enough. In males, sexual gratification can only be achieved by the release of semen when mixed with a woman’s arousal. Likewise, for a female subject, gratification can only be met through insemination.”

He said it so quickly, so nonchalantly. You had no time to process as you blinked rapidly. “Insem–”

“Therefore, a partner is necessary for the experiment, and only a partner of the opposite sex is truly effective, so…I suppose that’s a loss for the homosexuals, hm?” He shrugged, amused by his own joke.

Pain spasmed in your stomach, a sharp stab in your gut and a stinging sensitivity to everything your skin came in contact with. “Fuck,” you sighed, folding over slightly just as a growing migraine became present enough to matter.

He sighed. “Language, please.”

You rubbed your palms harshly against your eyes, forcing your fingertips against your temple in a useless attempt to ease the pain roaring in your head, sacrificing the stabbing in your gut. “It hurts.” It took everything not to sob.

He turned his head. “What kind of pain?”

“All of the above,” you said impatiently, your voice breaking. “It hurts.”

He hummed and leaned forward. “And where does it hurt the most?” He gestured to your general body. “Or is it just about the same everywhere?”

“It's…” you hesitated, “everywhere.”

Crane tilted his head, looking at you with a glow of disappointment. He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them to the side and directing his attention entirely on you.

“Now, my dear,” you shuddered at the name, “This doesn't work if you aren't being completely and entirely honest with me. I am quite content to sit here and watch you succumb to my little toxin.” A wash of shock overtook you, your palpitating conflicted between beating too fast and stopping all together.

He continued, a taunting grin curving his lips as he gave you his cold stare. “Without me to help you,” he shrugged, “you have no way of reversing the effects. I'll say you came down with a sudden fever, one you just couldn't fight.”

The hair along your arms stood tall. He couldn't be serious, it was a joke… But when have you known Jonathan Crane to joke?

“But…” you fumbled, trying to decide what to say, “But I've been perfectly healthy. Why would people believe you?”

He tilted his head, looking at you like you were just the cutest, dumbest little thing. “This is Gotham, sweetheart.” He shrugged dismissively. “People die every day, and no one fucking cares.”

Breathing heavily, you put a hand over your stomach and let out a pained moan. You thought to yourself, over his words. You shook your head, not meeting his eyes.

“Cramps.”

He raised a brow questioningly. “Hm?”

“The pain,” you stated. “Stomach cramps, tender nipples and…and clitoris. Even the fabric of my clothes is too much. It hurts.” You ignored the heat in your face. It didn't matter now—the insecurity, the awkwardness. It was strictly scientific. Of course, it was.

“Very good,” he grinned, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Tell me more.”

“Tunnel vision, dizziness, migraine, short breath. It's like… it's almost like a panic attack.”

“Is that all?”

“It's really hot,” you huffed, another pained moan escaping through your unsteady breaths. “I'm really hot.” It didn't matter. “Fuck, professor, I need you.”

“What's that?” The fucker was getting off on teasing you like this, mocking you like it was his only pleasure in life.

“I need you,” you urged, trying not to sound as whiny as you feel.

“Is that so?” he raised a brow, smirking. “Have you told me everything then?”

“Yes, everything. Please.”

“Are you certain?” he pushed.

You felt the wet on your cheek and realized your need and the pain had reached your eyes, the tears welling along your waterline and dropping down in one streak down your face. “Please, I'll do anything!”

He paused slightly. “What's that?”

You reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling them into your lap. There was only one way to ease the pain, the heat, the desire. And you were set on it.

“I'll do anything! Just please, fuck me. Please,” you gasped, pushing through the pounding in your head and the fire in your core.

“Well,” he sighed, pulling his hand from your grasp to check his watch. He tsked to himself, thinking before he hummed. “I suppose I can do that.”

You could have cried—you were crying. “Thank you,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“But,” he pointed a finger at your face, as though you were a dog being disciplined, “you must do as I say.”

You nodded urgently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” You shuddered at his words, the praise washing over you like a wave swallowing you whole as you lay on the sandy shore of a beach.

He snapped at you, indefinitely grabbing your attention as he pointed to the space in front of him. You stood from the bed in a moment, your weak legs barely holding you up.

His hands landed on your waist, and you nearly melted at the contact. He turned you around in his hands, looking you up and down with an appreciative moan. “Let's see what we're working with,” he said. “Strip.” The order was plain and simple.

You did as you were told, trying not to be shy about it. He didn't care about shyness, and it didn't matter anyway.

You began peeling your clothes off, moving faster with each inch of skin revealed. Once you were bare in front of him, you fought the overwhelming urge to cover yourself. He wanted to see you, to see what you had to offer.

He hummed to himself, snapping again. “On your knees.” Again, you did as you were told.

Moving to your knees, he took your face in his large hands. You melted against him, your eyes fluttering shut as a deep moan escaped you. His hands felt so cool in comparison to your burning skin. If you weren't so desperate for more of what he had to offer, you would be perfectly content with sitting here and having him hold you like this.

When his hands lightly smacked your cheeks, your eyes snapped open as you brought yourself out of the sticky feeling of the subtle pleasure. “Keep your eyes open. And open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his thumb between them and pried your mouth open wide. He set his thumb on your tongue, pulling it over your bottom set of teeth and pushing his thumb farther into your mouth. Your breaths blew over his skin as he felt the softness of your cheeks, your tongue.

He surprised you when his hand was suddenly between your thighs, his fingers stroking through your folds as you gasped. “Jesus, you're fucking dripping.” He ran his fingers along your lower lips and the insides of your thighs where the arousal was smothered halfway down your thighs.

You whimpered and whined when he shoved his middle and ring fingers inside of you without warning, delving them into your hot, dripping, tight pussy. You tried not to squirm at the way his fingers wiggled inside you.

“Yes,” he sighed. “This'll do nicely.”

He pulled them out of you, shoving those same fingers between your lips to make you taste your arousal. “Suck,” he commanded. You obeyed.

You suckled around his fingers and felt another rush of molten arousal wash through you at the way he stares at you, his eyes dark and primal. You needed him.

“Strip me,” he said, pulling his hand away. From your knees, you unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, letting your hands press against the expanse of his chest and soothe you the slightest bit. You unbuckled his best and shoved his pants down his legs, removed it from his body like undoing ropes tying him to a chair.

You stared at his briefs, his half-hard erection tenting them as he enjoyed the sight of your mindless struggling. He placed a hand in your hair, gripping a fistful and holding you securely. “Now be a good girl and suck my cock.”

You pulled his boxers down without hesitation and only faltered as you saw him for the first time. This was absurd. You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation—staring at your professor’s erection, long and hard and flushed with his own lust for your body, about to wrap your lips around it.

You gripped him in your hand and he stifled a grunt at the feeling of your insistence. You stroked him a few times before sticking your tongue out and licking a long strip up the underside of his cock, tasting his precum beading at the tip and immediately becoming addicted to the taste. Whether it was him or just his toxin, the taste of him was mesmerizing, and you would do anything for more.

You wrapped your lips around him, suckling around the tip and taking him deeper. He let his head fall back just a bit, still watching you as his thighs clenched and his hair gripped your hair tighter. He did not guide you or push you down, he didn't think he needed to. You surprised him as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, taking him farther and farther down with each trip back and forth until he was filling your throat with his length and making you gag.

He grunted as you suckled some more. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching for any kind of pressure as your clit pulsed and your walls fluttered. You ran a hand down your body, dipping between your thighs to try and ease some of the tension. You pressed down hard on your clit one time, a moan coming from your throat and shivering through his spine.

He pulled you by your hair off of his cock. “Did I say you could touch yourself, sweetheart?” You shook your head pathetically. “Then why are you doing it?”

You couldn't win this, you knew that. Using your desperation as regret, you frowned and whispered, “Sorry, sir.”

He loosened his grip enough to let you get back to work, still holding onto you as he leaned back again. Your lips found his cock once more, addicted and able to ignore the burn for now, a short escape from the pain.

You swirled your tongue around him, suckling as you went along. Crane stared at you with a dark gaze as you sucked him off. You flattened your tongue against him, going farther down his length with each swallow around his tip. Sticky white precum continued to seep from his slit and onto your tongue. You were drunk on the taste of him, taking him as best you could.

Crane looked like a dream, his head tilted back and his lips parted as you brought him closer and closer to a great release. Both his hands were tangled in your hair by now, holding on to you and his remaining control.

He was right about the hormones. Being this close to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, the scent of his skin swirling around your head, was easing the searing desperation.

You felt him twitching on your tongue and suckled around him a little more. He was close, you could feel it. You didn't know if it was his toxin or not, but the idea of him spilling all over your tongue drove you crazy with lust.

He began to tense and groaned. “And that's enough of that,” he huffed, pulling you off of him by your hair and keeping you back, even through your attempts at licking the precum spilling from his tip.

“My, my,” he breathed. “Such a desperate little thing.”

You caught your breath as you spoke, your lips swollen and your eyes hooded as you did. “I need you,” you begged, gripping his thighs tight.

“Well,” he stood, snapping and gesturing for you to stand as well—you obeyed. “You'll have to be patient, sweetheart. I'm not through with my tests yet.” You whined. “Lay down.”

You did as told once again. He looked over your body, running a finger down the center of you, from your collarbone to your pelvis. You shuddered and whimpered but said nothing.

“I don't have any cuffs in here, so a tie will have to work.” He found his jacket draped along the back of his chair and pulled the tie neatly tucked inside of it out.

You held your breath as he reached for your hands, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head. He put them around the bars of the headboard and, with more skill than you expected, tied them together to keep you bound there.

He gave a content sigh at the sight of you, smiling to himself. His eyes found yours as his fingertips grazed your side “Now, you can be as loud as you want. No need to hold back. We're all alone in here.”

He stood over you as his palm smoothed along your skin, reaching further down until he found your mound, slick and hot and waiting for something to slip inside it.

Your breath quickened in anticipation, waiting for him to make his move as his fingers played with your skin. Holding eye contact, he slipped his finger inside of you, parting your folds and burying itself in deep.

Your head lolled back as you moaned, the sound sticky with lust. He sank in deep, inch by torturous inch. You held your breath in your, feeling each little bit disappear, knuckle by knuckle, inside.

A second finger joined the first, spreading you open for him. They thrust and curled inside you. You moaned and found yourself grinding your hips into his palm. You needed more, more of him, the bliss of his fingers spread through your body to ease the fire and feed it all at the same time.

“Professor,” you whimpered. “More, please.”

“Hm?” he taunted. “That's not enough for you? You need more?”

“Yes, please,” you gasped.

You clenched around his fingers, feeling him pumping his fingers in and out of you. He curled them against a sweet spot deep within your dripping cunt, exploring your body and becoming familiar with each little nook and cranny. Your back arched and your moans were loud in the space of the bedroom. You had never felt so good before, just by his hands alone.

When his speed increased, you thought you would cry. The dizziness was eased by his pleasure, the headache had waned enough for you to see, and the pain in your stomach had simmered to a dull ache. But his fingers stuffed inside only seemed to heighten the heavy pulse in her veins.

You pulled at the tie wrapped around your wrists as you whined. “Professor, please,” you huffed. “I can't take it. I—fuck—needa cum.”

Letting out what seemed to be a disinterested sigh, he shrugged. “Since you want it so bad…” His thumb pressed against your clit and your back arched slightly at the contact.

You cursed breathily, seeing stars as the pleasure grew and grew and grew at the expertise of his hand. You thought you were going to explode, reaching your peak far too quickly as a knot began to build in your stomach. You tensed, clenching around his fingers as he spread them and curled them and pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck, can I cum?” you moaned. “Please, professor, I need it so bad.”

He didn’t answer you, rubbing your clit in tight, fast circles as he felt you flutter around his fingers, he listened to your unsteady breath and felt your trembling thighs. You could feel yourself reaching that point, on the verge of finding that bliss…

You whimpered meekly when he suddenly stopped. Watching you with a dark smile, he chuckled as you squirmed and tried to move your hips against his hand. A tear slipped down the side of your face as the pain returned, sharper this time and spreading through your body like you’d been shocked.

“Dr. Crane, please,” you cried, squirming like a worm on a hook.

He laughed at you, looking your body up and down as he disregarded your need and spoke. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Another tear joined the first. “Please, I can’t.”

He tutted, shaking his head. “Ah-ah. Answer my question or I’ll stop completely.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Please, it hurts. So bad, everything hurts.”

He nodded, “Good girl.” He rewarded you with the movement of his hand once more, filling you back up with his fingers and thrusting them into you.

You were blinded by the pleasure and continued to ride it out, unknowingly that he was beginning a cycle. He would have you crying, breaking down in tears and so desperate to cum all over his hand, only to rob you of such pleasure every time you got close to tasting it. And it hurt. All of it hurt, like you were being burned alive. The imaginary flames licked at your flesh and threatened to sear it off your bones.

You didn’t know how many times he’d done this cruel act upon you, how long you’d been laying there with your legs spread open wide and his fingers shoved inside of you, too caught up in the pain and the ecstasy of it all. “C-Crane,” you muttered, your lips and your tongue lazy with dissatisfaction. “Please.”

You could tell how fun this experiment was for him, and not even in just the sadistic way. He watched you closely, his eyes hooded and dark and his cheeks pink. His cock was still hard, maybe harder still in a painful way that your useless sounds helped him to ignore.

He hummed deeply, considering another dance with desperation. But he let out a deep sigh and shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, his thumb, which had been lazily rubbing too-slow circles on your clit, picking up once again.

And you were so scared it was a trick, that he would pull away and leave you to sob again at the loss of stimulation. The knot built, the dam overflowed, and as you reached your breaking point, you gasped when it all came loose. Your back arched, and you went blind as the pleasure crashed down on you like nothing you’d ever felt.

You cried out his name—or some garbled version of his name that came with not being in touch with your own body. You moaned, breathing too fast and dizzying yourself with your harsh breaths as you did. Crane smiled as he watched you, coaxing you through it as he noted just how good this orgasm must have felt for you.

“Look at you go,” he smiled, still rubbing your clit as he watched the last spasms of pleasure shoot through you. You were so pretty like this, writhing in bed as you came on his hand for the first time, whimpering and whining like a dog.

He pulled his hand from you, darting his tongue to lick the bottom lip of his wolfish grin.

As you began to settle, you let in a deep breath to fill your lungs, laying back lazily as you were offered a moment of stillness. All the pain from before was gone, the thumping in your heart calmed to a slightly quickened ut otherwise rhythmic beat. You could breathe.

Crane was staring at his watch, looking between you and it as he seemed to time something. You paid him little mind, soaking up the calm for as long as you had it.

It was all too soon that the pain began to slip back in, first as a distant sting in your head, then as the dull ache in your stomach. As your breath sped again at the slowly increasing ache, so too did your heart once more. Then the sensitivity of your skin, the burn of your goosebumps rubbing against the sheets or clashing cruelty with the air.

Unable to take so much, you began to cry. “Professor,” you spoke shakily. “Fuck, it hurts. It fucking hurts so bad. I can't—I can't, I can't.”

“Two minutes and seventeen seconds,” he stamped. “It took two minutes for the aphrodisiac to kick in again after the first orgasm has been reached.”

He stared at you, rubbing his bottom lip and sighing with a distant smile. “Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he mumbled. “To make you cum over and over and over again until you're,” he sighed longingly, his eyes fluttering and his jaw clenching with an urge he tried to conceal, “sobbing, trembling in my hands, begging me to stop.”

You shuddered, wanting it so badly but also dreading the opposite of this torture, where you would never stop shaking, never be able to calm as he pulled an orgasm after you one right after the other.

He shook himself out of his daydream. “But, I'm not sure how long you've got. That's an experiment for another day.”

You wanted to say something, but you were at your point in desperation where words were harder and harder to form unless the adrenaline really kicked in.

He positioned himself on the bed, his hand smoothing over your sides. “I bet you need me now, don't you?” Whining pathetically and not caring anymore about sounding decent, you nodded. “Yes, you do. You need me to fuck you, hhh? Take you nice and rough from behind. You need me to fuck you nice and deep, little slut?”

You nodded again, crying, “Please.”

He stood on his knees in front of you, taking your body in his hands and flipping you around, not caring for a moment that you were still tied to the bed frame with your arms now crossed.

He pulled you up on your knees and put your ass on display for him. His hands slapped down on your ass, rubbing harshly on the skin as you whined.

“Be a good girl and beg me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he breathed.

Had you not begged enough? You couldn't count the amount of times you'd told him “Please, professor, please,” and been denied for the sake of his sadism?

Still, you were desperate and you could care less at the moment about his urge to humiliate you. So you did beg, your pounding heart squeezing tears out of your eyes.

“Please, Crane,” you sobbed. “Please, I need you so fucking bad. It hurts, please.”

You were about to continue pouring your heart out when he cut you off. “Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. It's not that serious.”

He took his cock in his hand, stroking himself a couple times as he spread your folds for him. In one push, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your tight pussy. He groaned roughly as you clenched around his cock and moaned.

“So fucking tight,” he sighed. “You've been needing this, haven't you?”

You moaned deep in your throat, melting at the feeling of him buried so deep. He chuckled, high off the sight of you so weak. He pulled out of you, an agonizingly slow drag that burned at your nerves until he suddenly thrust back in with a harsh thrust. You lost your breath, your lungs squeezed tight at the pleasure.

He grunted, doing it again and again and again as he just kept holding you tighter, pulling you back to meet each thrust. The smack of his hips against your ass was loud and followed in quick succession as he gave you no time between each thrust to recover.

You felt like your brain had melted, reduced to. a pile of mush in your head as you let yourself be devoured by the pure ecstasy of each thrust staving off the pain of the toxin burning you out.

You gripped the sheets, clenching and unclenching and trying so hard to keep it together as he split you open on his cock.

Crane was hardly keeping it together himself, gripping your waist as he fucked into you from behind. His hair had fallen over his eyes, which were dark and crazed. He had you in his clutches—you, his prey and he, your predator, his teeth and claws in your flesh and bone.

“Is this everything you imagined?” he huffed, bringing a hand to wrap around your throat and pull you up.

You clenched tighter around him and felt your limbs going weak—if he hadn't been holding you up, you would have fallen against the bed again.

“W-What?” you gasped, small and pathetic.

He laughed darkly. “You think I didn't know? What, you thought I couldn't see the way you stared at me during my lectures? You thought I didn't see your glances at my crotch, wondering how big my cock was? Huh? How good it would feel if I fucked you?”

You just kept moaning, unable to hold in your pleasures sobs. He fucked you a little harder, pulling more and more out of you as he did. “Why do you think I chose you, huh?” he taunted, laughing again. “You were perfect for the role. My cock hungry student who would do anything to impress me. Fuck, you were practically begging to be the subject of this experiment.”

It was hard to listen to him when you could barely focus on your own pleasure. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating you in slick. He just kept fucking you, drunk on the pleasure.

“N-Need,” you stuttered, trying to form the words as your tongue was not your own. “Mm-fuck, needa cum.”

He didn't say anything this time as he pressed his finger to your clit. You went limb, letting yourself fall onto the bed as you whined pathetically.

“Look at you,” he smiled, his head tilted back as he relished in the squeeze of your cunt. “My little fucking whore. Does it feel good?” He laughed again, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Are you gonna cum on my cock like a pathetic slut? Hm?”

To answer his question, you did. You let out a choked cry when you came, your eyes rolling back as you went blind with the pleasure that crashed down on you. Your whole body shattered, and your thighs shook at the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffed as you began tighter, your pussy fluttering around him and only bringing him closer to his own longed-for release. “That's a good fucking girl.”

Your head was filled with white-noise as you floated in that space between orgasms, where your whole body was numb to everything else going on. As he kept fucking you, it didn't last long. You came to and found yourself thrown into another dance of lust.

You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave to you. “You like that? You like being ruined by me? Hm?” he breathed, still rubbing your clit, even as you squirm.

You didn't respond, overcome by whining moans. But that was more amusing. “I know you do,” he said. “You liked being fucked dumb, don't you?”

His hips continued to snap into yours, shoving deeper and rougher. His finger on your clit continued to build you up, higher and higher.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asked, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he kept fucking into you. “Yeah? You're squeezing my cock like you are.”

You managed to nod your head and nothing more, the knot building again in your stomach getting so tight, so close to another blinding release. You braced for it as it grew closer.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum, too,” he breathed. “Gonna cum—so deep inside you. You'll be dripping with me, sweetheart.”

You mewled, closer and closer to–

A loud cry tore from your throat as you came again, blinded and devoured and reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess as the pleasure shook through your body like a rattle.

Unable to hold himself in anymore, he moaned roughly as he spilled so deep inside of you. He gripped you roughly, pulling you back against his cock as he buried himself deep, grinding into you as he fucked his cum inside so you were stuffed with it.

“Fuck, I love this tight little cunt,” he huffed. “Perfect for me.” Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing him tight as you squelched and gushed around him.

You lay limp against the sheets as the blood roared in your ears. After a moment, when he'd caught his breath and came down from his high, he pulled out of you and let you fall against the bed.

He breathed, letting out a deep sigh. He looked down at you, your spent body still shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. He picked up your leg, pulling it apart to see your pussy, stuffed and leaking his cum.

He could have cum again at the mere sight of you, your messiness, your exhaustion. He dropped your leg and sat next to your limp body.

“Now,” he said, another breath leaving his lungs. “How do you feel?”

You just lay there, letting out a tiny moan after a while as your only response as you tried to recover. All the pain had disappeared, and all that was left was the heaviness in your limbs and the sore muscles to come.

He hummed a laugh. “I bet.” He reached for his glasses, putting them on the bridge of his nose once more and adjusting them.

He stood, walking somewhere in the room as your eyes followed him. When he picked up a camera hidden in the corner capturing everything that just happened, you couldn't do anything but think about how you wanted to watch it back and see just how much he'd wrecked your body.

He stopped the recording, setting the camera down with a smile. He looked at you again, kneeling in front of the bed as he rested his chin on his hands. “So many things for us to do, so many experiments to run. And now I've got you,” he chuckled, “my own personal lab rat.”

You watched him lazily, the exhaustion pulling at your system. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss, moving as much as you could as your lips melded together. It breathed life into you, more life than it should have.

He pulled away all too soon, standing up and turning away from you as he left the room. You laid there a moment longer, thinking back over the events of the night. His own personal lab rat.

You smiled.

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