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nymphomatique · 7 days ago

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gold star student

professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

⋆·˚ ༘ * one bad grade is one too many, so you ask one professor logan howlett, phd. for some extra credit after class. inspired by this art.

cw: reader lowkey has undiagnosed adhd, u want that cookie so effing bad, oral (m & f), praise, some degradation, swearing (it’s logan), shaky power dynamics so it can be considered dub-con, non specific age gap, college aged reader, logan puts stickers on your face while you blow him, face slapping, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), finger sucking, spitting on the pussy, grey streak logan cause if he ain’t greying im not staying!!!, this is just me being horny idk what else to say i’m sorry yall. 18+ only.

wc: 8k

❤︎ a/n: this was…. a labour of love to say the least. i hate the ending but fuck it we ball. enjoy <3

Ever since you were a child, anything and everything that had to do with academia had been the bane of your existence. Sitting at a desk for eight odd hours in a day wasn’t only grossly unappealing to you, but a mental challenge as well. You had found it hard to grasp onto concepts and new materials as well as the other kids, unable to focus on whatever spiel of the day your teacher went on about and still found yourself struggling in higher education. From kindergarten, to elementary, to middle school, to high school, up until now in your college years, you find that not only has your attention deficit gotten worse, but so has your motivation in academia in general.

A floater student is what you would consider yourself, showing up to class once in a blue moon, rather busying yourself with doom scrolling in your dormitory or shopping off campus at the mall, only showing up during exam time and barely passing. your prognosis would be one of the many hyperactive disorders, but you never bothered to diagnose yourself officially. In high school, your parents didn’t make a huge deal of your grades, thanking a graceful god out there that you even got your diploma to begin with. At this age however, with tens of thousands of dollars being poured into your tuition, your mother and father have seemed to coil up even tighter in terms of frustration with your nonchalant attitude towards school.

A report card from your fall semester riddled with C’s and D’s, emboldened and italicized as if to taunt you silently, was the final straw, the cussing you received was enough for a lifetime. At your parents' discretion, before the start of the semester you consulted with your academic advisor in suggestion of a course schedule that wasn’t a twelve hour day, and professors who would accommodate you with in the case of your late assignments and missing homework.

All classes but one would be easy- you had been told. Your world history class and its professor had been the only one where you had been saddled with a hardball teacher, rate my professor describing one Logan Howlett, teacher of Modern World History in the Context of Classic Literature, as a man with a foul mouth and harsh grading asshole— with an excellent curriculum but horrible grade weighting, as described by your fellow student body, the mandatory attendance and participation accounting for twenty percent of your grade alone pulling a groan from you as your laptop screen stares back at you, the blue light emitting from it seemingly silently taunting you with the course course outline. Get used to looking at my screen. Three hours in an auditorium, every Wednesday and Friday for twelve weeks at nine in the morning with this douchebag.

You mentally prepare yourself for the exhaustion of the upcoming semester, shutting your laptop closed with a huff of annoyance before laying in bed, mentally preparing yourself for this seemingly infamous professor Howlett.

After a rather inadequate night of sleep, a zero sugar monster energy (gotta give in for the sake of your health where you can) and a double shot latte, you feel something that briefly resembles yet still distant from awake, you find yourself struggling to get comfortable in the stiff chairs in your lecture room. You’re glad you tucked yourself away in a seat in the corner, four rows back from the front, embarrassed that your peers are silently mocking your struggle.

It’s some odd minutes to nine on the dot, and you’re rather proud of yourself for being able to make it minutes early rather than stumbling in twenty minutes late like you’re prone to doing. Face resting on your hand, cheek squishing your right eye closed, your left eye flits around the room to the other people present, and you wonder if anyone else is stuck in your current situation: burnt out student who didn’t have a choice but to take this class at the least convenient time possible, simply for your graduation credits. Unfortunate kismet, you think, if anybody else in this room also had the privilege to have been born with the unlucky gene you possess.

Your eyes are heavy, the seconds tickering away at the speed of minutes, and you can’t help it when the last open eye you have flutters close. You hum to yourself, relishing at the feeling of finally being able to rest some more. the quiet shuffling of your classmates feet and the soft scrapings of their chairs, clock ticking so quietly that it barely registers in your mind. The ambient noise is like a blanket to you. It’s not more than five minutes, just a micro nap— you tell yourself, counting the seconds of each minute down silently. 45, 44, 43, 42, what minute is this?, 30, 29, 28, so tired, 22, 21, time to sleep…

Your eyes shoot open when you hear the auditorium door slam shut, blinking away softly the sleep in your eyes. your heart sinks for a minute and panic sets in— did you sleep through the whole class? On the first fucking day? You look around, eyes wide, and immediately sigh in relief when you’re greeted with a full hall. Conversely, you see everyone’s attention to the front of the class with materials out, so you trail your eyes to the front of the room and that’s when you see him, finally. Not his face yet, the wide expanse of his back and tail of his coiffed head facing you all instead. Your eyes trail down his body to his feet, clad in a pair of black combat boots, you can’t help but quirk up and eyebrow, bootcut jeans that seem to be worn in well, seemingly like they’re tailored to his long, very legs, then you see his jacket, which now you catch in time to see him taking it off to reveal a black t-shirt underneath and your breath hitches a bit. You can only see his triceps flexing as he maneuvers his jacket off, but you can just tell he’s covered in rippling muscle, his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt. You can’t help but wonder what he looks like, wondering if his face is as captivating as the rest of him. Your eyes flit over to the girl sitting two seats down from you, and you can’t help but smile a little at her expression, teeth chewing her bottom lip and eyes widened slightly and blinking in slow flutters, seemingly thinking the same things about this Professor Logan Howlett as you are; He’s obscenely sexy even though I haven’t even seen his face.

When you focus your attention back to the front, your face warms immediately upon finally seeing his– Professor Howlett’s face and fuck, you feel stupid for even thinking that he wouldn’t be even a fraction of attractive. His hair, oh god his hair, styled as if he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it once, maybe twice even, streaked with gray at his temples, peppering down into his sideburns and disappearing in his scruffy beard. His eyes are an enrapturing shade of hazel, almost brown, almost green, you squint a little to see the mix of hues better, cursing yourself for sitting so far away. His nose, button-like yet poses so masculine at the same time. His lips look so soft and kissable, framed perfectly by his facial hair as if it’s screaming at you to kiss there, to taste each other, let your tongues touch and whisper your deepest secrets to one another-

Gravelly and deep, his voice rouses you from your rather indulgent fantasy. “Good morning. Lively bunch this semester,” he quips and a quiet wave of laughter reverberates and echoes around you. Your chest tightens at the sound of his voice and you want to smack yourself silly for it. “Gonna spare you all the pointless introductions n’ ice breaking crap, yeah? We’ll go over the syllabus and get this show on the road.”

He’s curt, forward, doesn’t bite his tongue, you deduce. Not the jackass his reviews seem to pin him as, though it’s only the first class. They didn’t seem to mention how ruggedly handsome he was as well, you think and pull your lips taut as Professor Howlett, continues to read off the syllabus. Two essays, three quizzes, and a final reading comprehension exam. Attendance is mandatory Your eyes quickly flit to the back of your skull as he reads off that point. No makeups. No late work. No excuses.

You feel your heart hammer in your chest a little, a sense of anxiety bubbling up in you at how much this class demands. It’s nerve wracking, super fucking discouraging to say the least given your track record, but you know you have no other choice but to commit fully and pass this class, so help your parents. You suppose you can find the motivation in a hot professor and at the very least, make an effort to roll out of bed and be presentable on the days you show up to his class. You exhale softly, hearing the shuffling of books and closing laptops to rouse you from your thoughts.

“And don��t forget, first five chapters of tulip fever for next class,” his voice booms in the auditorium, fighting with the noise of students desperate to leave and head to their next class or back to their rooms. You flit your eyes towards your professor, arms crossed and muscles bulging against his shirt, casually leaned against his desk. His eyes meet yours for a moment and your breath hitches immediately. His brow quirks at you silently and you’re sure you might disintegrate on spot. You feel your face heat up and you break away the eye contact to rush out of the lecture, both exhausted and perpetually embarrassed, not having enough energy to handle feeling both. In your haste, you miss the way Logan's lip quirks up for a split second at you, rushing out the door with Tulip Fever and streaks of grey on your mind.

You find you can’t keep your modern history professor off the brain since leaving the lecture hall that wednesday, ever so flustered. You thought about his thick arms back at your dorm, and how they might feel wrapped around you in a warm embrace. You thought about those graying temples, and the picture it would paint with his head between your thighs. You thought about him in your humanities class as your professor droned on about morality and its many philosophical perspectives, but you tune her voice out and think of his instead, wondering what it would sound like whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The level of yearning you’ve reached is bound to get you in trouble, hell it’s gotten you in trouble already— completely neglecting to finish the first five chapters of Tulip Fever like Professor Howlett had assigned, losing yourself in the work from your other classes. Friday had snuck up on you and you smacked your forehead for being so forgetful, the beginnings of discourage and a knot forming in your stomach. I’m a failure, I suck at this, I should drop out, I’m such a fucking idiot.

The thought of letting down a man you barely know has you berating yourself even further. You need to get a grip and quickly— he’s your teacher for God's sake. You suck in a breath, finding yourself sat in the same lecture hall your vivid fantasies found themselves being born in, laptop open as you’re frantically reading the Sparknotes summary minutes before class is set to start. Today, you chose a seat in the second row, still far off to the right side. You weren’t sure you could stay coherent with his gaze on you so heavy. You tell yourself you picked this spot for a better learning experience, closer seats meaning less of a chance you fall prey to your fantasies, but deep down beyond the denial you knew better than to convince yourself of a lie like that. You sat upfront because you wanted to see Professor Howlett better, to pinpoint the hues of his eyes you couldn’t make out yesterday from so far behind. You wanted to trail your eyes up and down his muscular frame, taking snapshots of the hair on his forearms, the freckles on his thick knuckles, the veins trailing his big hands—

“Good morning, everyone,” a gruff voice speaks and you feel a ball of energy sits itself deep in your stomach, it’s him. You've missed the deep baritone of his voice, you realize. “Hope you all read up the chapters, yeah? We’ll be discussing ‘em today, and I am the asshole who picks on students to participate.” There’s a soft wave of grumbles from some, but your panic is quiet and you hope to a God in heaven somewhere that he doesn’t pick you, god knows you barely retained any information from your flash round of Sparknotes earlier.

“Like any book, the first few chapters were mostly exposition, character and scene setting stuff. Tell me, what does Sophia’s marriage and lack of heir signify to us in these times?” Professor Howlett asks, and you immediately avert your gaze to the grooves and scratches in the table in front of you. Please don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, please please please— “Yeah, you,” your head snaps up, heart hammering in your chest when you see him nod his head at some girl, some girl with too much fucking chest out, you spit, her hand raised high and smile plastered across her smug little face. Your brows pull together and you barely contain the urge to roll your eyes at her enthusiasm.

“Thank you, Professor,” This fucking bi- “I think that- that while Cornelius and Sophia are often representative of the way marriage was a lot of the times something more transactional, her being unable to have a kid being a main problem- shows how a lot of times a marriage with no evidence of, um, consummation, is seen as practically null and void.” Your fist tenses against the desk at her answer.

“Little long winded, but yeah, good job..?” his voice lilts off, and you smile a bit knowing he doesn’t even remember her name. “Oh, um, Amber,” she sputters out. He nods at her response and continues asking questions about the book. You feel a little bad as class progresses, your unprovoked and unwarranted jealousy towards another woman over a man who’s simply an authority figure to you both, no matter how attractive, makes you cringe. What is he doing to you?

“Good answers, guys. Glad you all did more than skim the book,” Professor Howlett muses, turning his back to face you all as he digs through his briefcase. You take this time to admire how broad his back looks, draped in a black polo shirt today that practically has you drooling. “The rest of you I didn’t pick on today aren’t unscathed unfortunately,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He turns around and presents the stack of papers between his large hands to you all and he smirks, “Pop quiz.”

A myriad of groans come crashing from all over the lecture hall right down to your ears and you silently join, hands falling down against your desk. You sincerely hope these weren’t going to be graded, praying that Professor Howlett possesses some sense of apologeticness, knowing that the definite zero percent you’d get on this would completely fuck over your overall average for the rest of the semester, subsequently giving your parents ample reason to rip you a fucking brand new one.

Row by row, he passes a stack of papers for each student to pass down and he stops in front of you, seeing as you so conveniently sat at the end of the second row. “Nervous?” he asks, brow quirked and smug fucking look on his face as you look up at him. You quirk your eyebrow right back at him, “Hardly.” A group of papers fall in front of you and he breathes out a laugh, leaving you to pass papers to the next row. You lied like shit, you were insanely nervous, knowing you hadn’t retained a lick of information from your mini crash course nor the class’ discussion prior.

“No tech, no cheating. You guys know the drill, don’t make me catch you and have to chew you out. Twenty minutes and I’m picking ‘em up.” Logan says, walking down the aisle and back to his desk, his hulking frame leaning against his desk and his arms crossed up against his chest so tight that his biceps practically bulge out of his shirt. Or maybe, he’s just that toned, that any movement, minuscule or major, would have him threatening to rip out of his clothes. You’re practically fighting yourself in your seat, tearing your eyes away from his thick arms and heavy pectorals and down to your paper.

It’s one page, front and back, ten questions. It wouldn’t be so bad had you actually read the book, considering you can’t even remember the name of the main character in the book. You bite your lip, trying so hard to rack your brain for something that resembles a coherent answer to these questions that will give you at least a 75%, knowing it wouldn’t skew your grade average completely off. What does Maria’s role stand to symbolize in the context of 1600’s Amsterdam?. You clench your fist so hard around your pen you’re almost amazed that it doesn’t break under the pressure. You didn’t even remember a Maria in the book.

Twenty minutes of writing later, grasping at straws for potential points that would make you feel better than getting a big fat zero on your first quiz in this class, in his class, you’re walking to his desk to place your quiz in a pile with the rest of your peers, just as he’d instructed. You kept your eyes down the entire time, feeling too embarrassed to look at him after that silly excuse for banter you had attempted earlier. Hardly. Yeah fucking right.

After your quiz, you had been dismissed from class, and you felt the anxiety set in almost immediately. The phone call you had with your parents that weekend over your classes and grades so far only worsened, the stern and subtly implied threat of coming back home to learn at a local college looming silently above you if you didn’t keep your grades up. You had obviously avoided mentioning the pop quiz you had, choosing not to set them ablaze at the mention of the fact that you most definitely failed that pop quiz. The stress of your grades instilled a new found productivity in you, in which you took initiative to read ahead of the assigned chapters and annotate as well as take notes for your modern history class, hoping to be prepared next time he’d ask a question. Your stomach churns at the thought of his praise, Good answer. Very good, kiddo. Like that idea. you imagined he’d say to you. You bite your lip as you study your western civilization notes, maybe he’d even indulge in you, call you his good girl, his good little student, something that Amber would never have above you.

Monday and Tuesday went by uneventfully, as you completed your labs and started on your assignments when assigned. Tuesday night however, you had been anxious almost, or maybe excited— you weren’t sure, but you did know you wanted to be prepared for this class, to prove to Professor Howlett that you could handle his class, show him that you wouldn’t let him chew you up and spit him out so easily. You took the time before bed on that Tuesday to prepare your books in your bag, organize your notes, and even pick out an outfit, neatly folding it and leaving it on your desk chair. Grades be damned, you were beyond ready to prove everyone wrong, yourself included.

You sat in the front row again, enraptured in the world of Tulip Fever, but really you would rather focus on Professor Howlett. He was all you thought about these days, especially at night when it was only you and the dark of your dorm to entertain you before bed. You hear a giggle next to you and you snap your head to the direction of the noise. Amber. A deep rumble sounds in front of you, someone clearing their throat. You look forward again and see your professor and your face heats up. “Welcome back to earth, sweetheart,” he muses, humour painted all over his face. Your eyes widen at the pet name he’s given you and you feel like sinking into your seat. “I need you here next time, yeah? Not in that pretty little head of yours,” he says, quiet enough so only you and the front two rows can hear. Your head spins. Pretty. He called you pretty. He continues his lecture like nothing else happened, leaving you dazed at his affection. His eyes flit to you briefly and he smiles, before walking back to the front of the class.

Little moments like these pepper themselves throughout your lectures with Profess Howlett in between the assignments and lectures and raised hands. You’d catch him looking at the juncture of your breasts sometimes as you wore low cut tops, his lilting voice calling you precious pet names, sweetheart, kiddo, sweets. They all have your face warming. Heated gazes, stolen smiles, one off banter, you were convinced you were being delusional. One particular moment after class where you had asked for details on an assignment had you reeling for days. You went up to him after class to ask your question. His face was insanely close, you could smell the mint off his breath from the gum he was chewing during the lecture, feel his words fan your face, deep rumblings and focused glares as you were only inches away from his face. His lips, oh God his lips… so close, so soft looking, so pink, you had been so caught up in him the entire time. And he had noticed, his fingers coming up to your chip to raise your gaze. He did it wordlessly, eyeing you as you eyed him. His look daring you to say something. Challenge me. I dare you. But you didn’t— you couldn’t, you had tried to focus on something else, his musky woodsy scent, his greying stubble, anything, as he continued to explain your question to you. You walked out of his class that day with jello for legs, replaying the moment in your mind.

Next class you had seen him he had given the assignments back, adorned with little gold stars on those who had grades higher than a B minus. Your paper had come back to you with an A minu, a little gold star next to your grade. “Boosts morale,” had been Logan’s explanation when a student had asked why the gold star. You smiled. Cute.

You had felt like you finally found your groove, despite the hiccup you had at the beginning. Your first test of the semester approached, and you weren’t nervous, in fact you showed up to class early, getting a chance to get a good spot and watch Professor Howlett walk in and begin setting up. You had waved, a meek good morning in your own words and he returned a wink back. Your insides tugged at themselves. He had waltzed over to you in your seat, starting up conversation. “Nervous?” he asks, curt and short. You smile, “Hardly,” using your own words once more. “I’m gunning on a gold star. I studied extra hard.” Professor Howlett hums, smile on his face. “I look forward to seeing your work. I enjoy reading it,” he says. He leaves you with those words as he walks back to his desk, more students beginning to pepper in the classroom as the test hour approached. You had been so sure you did excellent on your test, studying for days and days beforehand. So when you got back your test, a C Minus staring back at you with a gut wrenching empty space next to your grade right where a star would be. Tears prick your eyes as you look at the grade, feeling so disappointed in yourself. This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.

You had promptly stayed behind after class to speak to him, and it seemed like Amber had the same idea, her body close to his as she spoke lowly. She didn’t spare a glance back at you as she spoke to him, hand grazing his bicep as she walked away and past you. Your eyes rolled in your head and you walked up to Professor Howlett next. He’s in the middle of packing up his papers in his bag when you come up to him, and he glances up in acknowledgment before going back to what he’s doing. You breathe out and his brown quirks as he pauses and looks at you. “Yes?” he asks. “I… I would like to see you after class if possible to discuss my grades,” you say, fist curling and uncurling with nerves. ”Tomorrow afternoon come see me at my office,” he says, arms crossing. “Don’t be late. Don’t get your hopes up either,” he quirks. You chew your lip before sighing. “I’ll be there. On time.”

And true to your word, you showed up promptly and on time. Your heart was hammering in your chest cavity so hard you felt like it would burst through your ribcage. Your lower lip found itself between your teeth, chewing at it tenderly. You had been staring at the mahogany colored door, finished with a shiny golden plaque, L. Howlett, PHD. carved within the surface of the precious metal. His name posed just as intimidating as he did. You’d been standing in front of his door for almost three minutes now, fingers skimming along the hem of your plaid skirt. The accompanying white tanktop and white cardigan hand made your subconscious intentions loud and clear, as some part of you, a delusional part of you, had hoped this school girl-esque get up would grant you some sort of leniency with Professor Howlett as you begged for him to give you a retake, a makeup assignment, something for God’s sake.

Any moment more of hesitancy and you would be late for your two o’clock appointment time, so you bring your knuckles up to the door to knock, twice in succession, when the door swings open in front of you. Your knuckle is almost met with Amber’s face, her shock seeing you just as evident as hers. She doesn’t let it linger however, as she casts a glance over her shoulder and muses a “Bye Professor. Thank you so much, I’ll see you in class Monday,” before looking back forward and right back at you, holding your gaze as she walks right out the door and past you, making sure her shoulder doesn’t miss yours. You scoff. Bitch.

“Right on time. Come in,” he gestures, refusing to get up from his comfy looking office chair. As you walk around his office you take in the interior briefly. The mahogany furniture, the lingering smell of cigar smoke, evidence of his nasty habit sitting on top of an ashtray on his desk, the glass bar cart, adorned with various bottles of whiskey and gin, and a mini fridge sitting on its bottom shelf— filled with ice and garnish you assume. You eye his book cabinet, shelves stuffed with various literary titles, old and new, classic and contemporary. You find yourself impressed, but you shouldn’t be, his teaching— albeit rough, brutish sometimes even— is a testament to his passion towards books and literature. You smile a little as you sit down in the foam lined chair in front of his desk. You try not to think of who sat in it before you as you feel the residual warmth of it against your thighs. You take in Professor Logan, black t-shirt and dark blue jeans— casual, but damn if he made it look good. You eyed his arms, veiny and bulging out his shirt, before flickering your attention back to his face, framed by those greying temples you oh so loved.

“So?” He trails, redirecting his attention from his desktop to you. You swallow a little and sigh. “Um, I know that you said no… no retakes or anything, and I understand your answer if it’s a hard no,” you say, pausing to look at him to try and assess what he’s thinking, but you’re simply met with a raised brow and crossed arms as he leans back further in his chair. “But I… I was wondering if- Well, my parents, they said that If I have a grade lower than an A on my report card this semester I had to drop out and transfer locally, and I don’t want to make this a pity story but I… It’s only this class where I’m having trouble. And I know what you said but my last test really fucked my average and I-” your nervous ramblings are cut off by him raising his hand. Your lips clamp and you watch him, waiting for his impending words. He makes you sit in the silence and with your words, instead opening his desk drawer, rifling between what sounds like various loose pens and papers before taking a lighter out. Small, sliver, zippo style and engraved with meticulous swirls. He picks up the already cut cigar out the ashtray, placing it between his pink lips, and lights it— two experimental puffs of smoke floating your way and you get dizzy.

“You don’t mind?” He asks only now, and you try not to roll your eyes and that façade of chivalry. “No,” you shake your head. “Thought so,” he smiles, smug. He puffs from the cigar once more before he places it down on the glass ashtray once again before he speaks up. “As it stands now if you tighten up for the rest of the semester you can pass my class with a B something, which don’t sound too bad to me, sweetheart.” Your gut twists with tension. A B isn’t what you need. You brows furrow and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. “I would love to help you sweetheart, trust me I would. But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other students who come waltzing in here dressed just like you, begging for an A,” he drawls, picking up his cigar again and slotting it between his lips before he stands up and your breath hitches. “Wh- dressed like me? I didn’t-” you begin, confused at what he’s implying. Your eyes follow his moving figure, his steps taking him around his desk to the side of your chair, conveniently eye level to his groin.

“But you did, didn’t you?” he asks softly, thumb coming to your chin to direct your gaze up to his eyes. “I don’t understand…” you murmur, skin beginning to warm at the rather inappropriate contact and position. Your chest heaves up and down beneath your cardigan and he surely notices letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he continues, thumb rubbing softly back and forth against your chin before he drops his hand from you completely. Your eyes drop in sync to his limb, your mind racing a million thoughts a second. But… isn’t this what you wanted? What you needed? What you’ve dreamed of for weeks upon weeks? “Look at me,” he says, stern. And you do. “You listen so well,” he hums and you feel the makings of a fire ignite itself inside you somewhere deep. I’m being good. Good for him. “Kills you inside that you couldn’t get that shiny little sticker, doesn’t it?” he muses, looking down at you with mirth swirling in his eyes. You feel tears spring to your eyes at his words. He sees right through you. It did hurt. All you ever wanted to be was good for him.

“We can fix that today. Tell you what, you be a good student for me, and I’ll be a good teacher to you, yeah?” he says, taking a puff from his cigar. “Nod your head like a good student.” And you do. Up and down, slowly. Your brain is fuzzy. This surely isn’t happening, is it? It couldn’t be. He walks away and back to his desk, propping his cigar down after asking it. He pushes a pile of papers from his desk, until he finds what he’s looking for. A sticker sheet. What is he…

“C’mere,” Professor Howlett gestures with a finger, simultaneously sitting back on his chair. Your legs are trembling under you as you get up and walk towards his side of the desk. Logan pivots his desk chair to the side as you walk over to him and you find yourself standing between his legs, quiet. “Take that off,” he says, flicking his head towards your cardigan. You let it drop off your shoulder promptly, standing only in your white tank top and plaid skirt. “Kneel,” he says, and you drop immediately. Pathetic. Your hands lay in your laps as you’re sat between his legs on your knees. Your breathing is as laboured as ever. You can’t believe this is happening— something that you spent nights dreaming of. Touching him, tasting him, feeling him. He reaches over to his desk and grabs the sticker sheet of gold stars, a fresh sheet of stars neatly arranged row by row. “You know what to do, don’t you sweetheart?” he asks, palm of his hand running against your face. You nod, reaching forward to the zipper of his dark denim jeans before his palm grabs your hand. “When I ask you somethin’, I want a verbal answer. Y’understand?” he says. Your voice feels caught in your throat. He’s so intense your head is spinning. “Y-yes,” you breathe. “Yes what?” he spits back and your heart hammers. “Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hums. He lets go of your hands, taking a sticker off the sheet and placing a small gold star right next to your left eye. Your face heats up at the praise and you almost let out a breath, but you don’t. Your hands go back to undressing Professor Howlett, fingers deft with his button and zipper. He lifts his hips up and helps you shrug his jeans down until they’re sitting on top of his black combat boots, clad only in black briefs. The heavy tent in his pants makes your eyes go wide but you persist, thinking of your grade on the line. With a tug at his boxer band his dick pops up over the elastic, and you pull down until the full sheath of him is bobbing freely. Your eyes widen a little at the sheer size of him, wondering how he could possibly fit inside your mouth let alone your pussy. He was long, eight inches you’d guess just by looking and insanely thick. He was heavy too— the length of him unable to stand up fully, bobbing haphazardly as he twitched from arousal. You looked up at him, and his gaze was steady. Expectant. You sucked in a shallow breath before grabbing his cock, warm to the touch. Your fingers barely touched. You’re hand jerked up once before Professor Howlett was grabbing your wrist, only to spit on his dick, the string of saliva landing on the shaft. “S’better. Go on,” he encourages, and you do— jerking him a little faster now with his spit lubricant, the sound of his slick skin making your pussy feel warm, wet. You jerk him faster, spitting in the palm of your second hand before you join your other, breasts bouncing up and down as you jerk him. Little grunts leave Logan, and it makes your tummy feel warm. You were making him feel— “Good, just like that, yeah. Use your mouth now,” he moans. You felt intimidated by his size, but you persisted still. You wanted to be his good girl.

You look up at him as your mouth opens, coy like a fish, and you wrap your lips around his tip. He inhales a sharp breath and it gives you some encouragement. Be good. Your head drops lower, lower and lower until your mouth his full and his tip is tickling your uvula, and you gag around him, sputtering spit all over him. You pull off his dick to cough and he chuckles at you. “Let’s try again together, yeah?” You nod, “Yes, Sir.” You reposition yourself, back on your knees in front of him. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, open real wide,” he says, tapping your cheek. It felt soft slap more than a tap however. But still, you open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out. “Juuust like that, yeah…” Logan groans, slapping the warmth of his cock on your tongue. “Breath through the nose,” he says, before putting the length of him in your mouth and pulling your head down on him, fist clenched in your hair. He pulls you down deep, further than you managed to reach alone and you gag, spit everywhere, but he pays you no mind. His curses under his breath before standing up out of his seat, your head craning up as his fist pulls at your nape. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes, thrusting his cock in an out of your mouth. Your throat feels rubbed raw, tears pooling in your eyes but you hold on, hands gripping his thighs. “Take it, fucking take it,” he grunts. His hand disappears before placing a sticker on your spit-covered cheek and you whimper around his cock. Logan’s brows pull together and he laughs. “That turn you on? You like being my good little student? You like sucking off your professor?” he laughs, fucking your face with a deep pace. You muffle a Yes, Sir around him as his spit soaked balls slap against your chin and he laughs. Sticker after sticker covers the expanse of your face, a juxtaposition to your debauched mascara-streaked-spit-covered face.

Your throat is raw, but you’re relishing in the attention, the praise, the intensity of it. “One more mouthful, c’mon,” he grunts, pushing your head down even further down his cock and you squeal around him. Your eyes snap shut, focusing on holding your breath as he brings his dick deep down your throat until your nose is buried in his greying pubes. “So fucking nasty,” he drawls, deep groan leaving his chest. “Take it, be good and take it,” he says breathless, before he’s spitting his cum down your throat, leaving you no choice but to swallow his bitter semen. Your eyes wretch open lowly, watch Logan’s face contort in pleasure as he finishes in your throat and you whimper, squeezing his thighs tightly. “Good student,” he coos, pulling his cock from your mouth and it’s a relief that’s long overdue. Your first unobstructed breath is a deep one, and you’re slightly dizzy from the oxygen after having it restricted for so long. You don’t think about it for long before a hand is pulling you up off the floor, and before you know it, lips are on yours, tongue finding tongue. Your eyes close by themselves and you melt into the kiss, Professor Howlett’s lips soft against yours, but kissing you so roughly. Your arms grip his biceps, desperate for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself with.

The kiss breaks and your mind feels hazy. Your eyes open and you see Professor Howlett staring back at you, hands roaming your body. “Pr-professor…” you moan out after a particularly hard squeeze at your ass. “Logan, baby,” he says, kissing your lips once in a peck, and again as a sloppy embrace, his tongue swirling in your mouth and you keen into him. His hands pull at the back of your thighs and you jump up in his arms, wrapping your arms around his thick neck. He walks you a few paces, still stuck in an embrace, until he puts on you down on his desk. He breaks the kiss between you two before pulling the front of your tank top down, revealing your breasts to him, nipples pert. He wastes no time kissing and licking your chest, and you throw your head back in a silent moan. He sucks on your nipples for a minute, pinching and toying with your breast until your chest is heaving and nipples are raw. “What a sight for me,” Logan hums, and you feel shy under him like this. “Lean back and spread your legs f’me,” he says low, kneeling as you do as he asks. He’s eye level with your pussy, only covered by your skirt and white panties. He lifts the plaid fabric up and groans, the little wet spot of your pussy a delectable sight.

Logan leans forward and licks the wet gusset of your panties and you let out a shuddering moan. “P-please, Logan…” you breath, too wound up to wait. He smirks and indulges in you, pliant and needy. He hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls them to the side, hurrying his face into your wet and waiting pussy. It’s an enrapturing feeling, having him suck and lick and taste your clit and folds like this, groaning into you and he praises you for having such a sweet fuckin’ pussy, baby. He sucks your clit roughly, before pulling back to spit on your pussy, rubbing his nose against your clit before flattening his tongue against your gushing slit once again. The streaks of grey between your thighs sends blood rushing downwards to the center of your arousal and you can’t help but run your hands through his salt and pepper hair. He licks and tongues you until your legs go numb, teasing your orgasm from you time and time again until you’re nearly in tears for him, ready to cum.

“Please Lo- Sir. Please, Sir. Wanna cum, I’ll be good. Just-” your begging is cut short as two thick fingers push themselves in you and you throw your head back at the stretch. “You’re gonna come for me in a little, sweetheart. Be good for now,” Logan coos, kissing your inner thighs. You’re heaving as he curls and scissors his fingers inside you in a way that feels so unfairly good that tears begin to streak down your face, gold stickers peeling and falling off your damp skin; scattering down on the desk and falling on your chest. “G-gonna… Oh my God, Sir,” you squeal, just about ready to… Until his fingers deftly leave you. Before you can whine about this, Logan’s thick fingers covered in your slick push into your mouth and you groan. “Hush, baby. You’re about to feel real good in a little,” Logan hums, rubbing his cock, now hard again, up and down your wet and sensitive pussy, the head of him hitching your clit so good it hurts. His fingers leave your mouth. “Beg for it.” And you do. You’re a babbling mess under him. “Inside, p-put it inside me, Professor,” you moan, and Logan's resolve snaps, thrusting into you in one fluid movement.

You see stars, no pun intended, at the stretch of him. Your stomach feels full and you shudder, laying back down against the desk. “Tightest, sweetest fucking pussy I ever felt,” Logan coos, fingers pushing back into your mouth. His unoccupied hand grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder and he begins to thrust in and out of you, knocking the wind out of you with every push in and out. Your intermittent moans turn into a symphony of cries as his pace increases and he’s fucking into you at a brutal speed. Your hands are grasped around the wrist of his hand that’s by your mouth, sucking his fingers to soothe the burning part of the pleasure. “That’s it, fucking take it,” he grunts, pushing your leg from around his should back until your knee was touching your shoulder. The new angle made the pleasure unbearable, every movement rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes begin to close, your body shutting down seemingly as you begin to enter a pleasure comatose, the bubbling pleasure, the fingers in your mouth, it all feels like too much. But Logan doesn’t let you stay in that place for too long, his fingers leaving your mouth to slap your cheek, pulling back down. “I need you right here, know it feels good but I want you with me,” he says breathy, thrusts still never faltering.

Without his fingers in your mouth your moans are free to be heard, your incoherent babbles of “s’too much,” and “so deep in me, sir,” floating in the air between Logan’s heavy breaths and obscene curses. You’re breasts jump with every thrust in you, your head bouncing up and down from the sheer force of his thrusts. “T-Tell me…” you stutter out, eyes fluttering. “Tell you?” he asks, grinding his hips up and deep, and you’re sure he’s grazing your cervix. You grip his t-shirt and keel. He gets what you mean. “Good girl. My good girl. You’re the best girl. You want another star, don’t you?” he breathes out, a hand moving down to your clit as he thrusts up and out, up and out into you. You whimper, his words and ministration’s overwhelming, “Yes, Sir. M’good. So good. W-want it. Please, can I have it?” you babble. You belly feels warm, and the heat bubbles with every brush at your swollen clit and thrust in your pussy. He lets go of the hand at your knee, spreading you open to grab a sticker from the sticker sheet. “Stick your tongue out f’me,” and you do, overwhelmed with this moment. You’re being good. You’re being good. You’re almost there, keep being good. He spits in your mouth and you moan holding it there and waiting for him to tell you what to do. “Swallow it,” he huffs, thrusts faltering. He’s close, you deduce. I don’t want it to end. Please don’t let it end. You swallow and stick your tongue back out to show him and he groans.

He puts the star sticker on your tongue, and he thrusts in you harder, tweaking at your clit as he does. Your body seizes and you melt into a fit of moans and grunts, and you finally cum, Logan fucking you through it. “Yeah baby, just like that. Kneel for me,” he says, pulling out of you. You lay up off the desk and fall promptly to your knees, watching him jerk himself to orgasm above you with your tongue out, gold star on the middle of your tongue. He grunts with deep Fuck! before warm ropes of cum spray your partially sticker-covered face and tongue. Your eyes close and you hum, relishing in the warmth. Logan wipes the cum from your eyes with his thumb and sticks it in your mouth, and you suck, no questions asked. “Good fucking girl.”

The moments following are awkward. Logan tucks himself back in his pants, and pulls his jeans up and you’re left laying on the floor, coming down from your ecstasy high. The zip of his jeans breaks the silence and you’re looking up at him, soiled with cum, spit, stickers, tears and mascara. He walks to his bar cart and grabs the cloth hanging off the handle bar, and he hands it to you. You clean yourself up, and when you’re done you find his cardigan in his hands. You fix your tank top back over your breasts and pull the crotch of your panties back into place before grabbing it from him. “Thanks,” you say quietly. “See you in class on Tuesday,” is the last thing he says to you before you leave his office. Stunned.

On Tuesday, he hands you back your test with a new grade, an eighty, and gold sticker placed on it right next to the new grade. He glances at you as you look over your test, and smirks. You read the note he left in red ink on the back of the test, heart beating a little faster once you look back up at him. Good girl.

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sescoups · 9 months ago

Text

on my knees - choi seungcheol

masterlist

summary: your best friend and roommate is out of the country, and you come home to find nothing short of a disaster. who else would you have called but her brother?

word count: ~9k oops

a/n: I have no fucking clue what happened to me, but I just started writing and then didn't stop for like 4 hours so. here you go. you're welcome and also I'm sorry.

18+ MDNI!! warnings under the cut!

warnings: heavy kissing, seungcheol is the epitome of a Simp, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't), oral sex (f receiving), slight size kink, let me know if I missed something!

You had been best friends with Sua since you were both six years old. One of the older boys had pushed you onto the ground, wanting to be ahead of you in the line for the slide. Most of the other kids had laughed as tears started pouring down your cheeks, your knee rubbed red and raw and your pretty dress covered in dust and gravel.

“Are you really so immature you can’t even wait your turn?” a small voice had piped up.

Through the haze of your tears, you had seen a pretty black-haired girl kneel down to help you out. She had brushed away the worst of the dirt from your dress, and leaned in to look at your knee.

“I don’t know much about scrapes,” she said thoughtfully, “but I think you should clean it. That’s what my mom always says to me and my brother.” Then she smiled before standing up and glaring at the boy again. “You’re a poopyhead, and I will never play with you.”

Thinking back on it as adults, you always laughed at her phrasing; even more amusing was the way the little boy had taken Sua’s comment way too seriously and tried to fight her in the playground. Before any of the adults had been able to intervene, Sua’s older brother had stepped between the two of them menacingly, arms crossed across his chest. He was three years older, so the other boy quickly back-tracked when faced with Seungcheol’s nine-year old frame. After the little boy had run away out of fear, crying, the two siblings had helped you off the ground and to your parents.

The rest was history; playdates as children, study dates in middle and high school, and spending every single summer vacation together. You had gone from climbing trees to shopping at the mall, and from learning the alphabet to crying your way through chemistry together. Well, you more than her, but still. The suffering was mutual.

Your dynamic remained largely unchanged throughout the years. You were the crier, and Sua was the fixer. You hated the way you cried at the smallest inconveniences, and often felt bad for Sua for having to fix it, but she always said it was cute. She said you were just like that, and that was okay. Sua had her own quirks, mainly being quick to anger - you reassured her that you didn’t mind holding her back from fights and silencing her before she could yell insults at undeserving people, so really, you were the same. Just, you know, in a different way.

Another thing that never really changed was the way Seungcheol took care of the both of you. He helped out with homework when he could, taught Sua how to fight (truly a dubious decision considering her anger, but that was his business and not yours), and scared away any icky boys that were mean to you.

It was a very different dynamic to how other siblings seemed to act, but since you were an only child, you wouldn’t really know. Though, to be fair, he seldom held back the snarky comments when the opportunity presented itself. He would roll his eyes whenever you cried, call Sua an idiot when she didn’t understand a math problem, and generally be a dick when you played games together. It was all in good fun, you supposed.

Now, being 24 years old and two years out of college, Sua was your roommate and your rock. She was the one who put up with your generally messy habits and lack of cooking acumen, and she only complained once a month or so. In return, you were the one to make sure bills were paid on time and keep the freezer stocked with ice cream during the hot summer months. A symbiotic relationship, if you’d ever seen one.

You saw significantly less of Seungcheol, though he was far from an uncommon fixture in your household. He knew the code for the keypad on the door, so sometimes he just showed up unannounced to raid your kitchen and take a nap on your couch, but you didn’t mind. He did tend to fix anything that was broken and clean up whatever you couldn’t be bothered to, so the transaction was fair in your opinion.

One fateful Tuesday, you received a call during your lunch break at work. Usually, you wouldn’t answer, preferring to take your 45 minutes to scroll down your social media feeds aimlessly while eating your food, but Sua had always had special privileges, so you picked up anyway.

“Hey, sorry, I know I’m interrupting your scheduled vegetable time,” she started, and you snorted in response.

“I am not eating anything with vegetables in it, and I think you know it.” You were opening the store-bought lunchbox while speaking, your phone tucked between your elbow and your cheek.

“If I didn’t cook you dinner every day, you would have scurvy,” she shot back without a second’s hesitation. “No, dumbass, I meant your own brain-turning-to-vegetable time. Duh.”

“Oh, that,” you replied, unphased by her insults and generally snarky tone. You were used to it. And also kind of deserved it.

“Yeah. Well anyway, something came up at work and I’m gonna have to take an unscheduled work trip.”

“Cool. Where to?”

“Tokyo, so not that far,” she sighed, and you could picture her running her fingers through her hair. She never did well with unexpected travel plans. “I have to leave tonight. I just thought I’d let you know, so you can make plans to get takeout tonight.”

You scoffed down the line, placing a forkful of bulgogi in your mouth and chewing quickly. God bless convenience store lunchboxes. “I know how to take care of myself, mom.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you slob.” Again, you could picture Sua’s nose crinkling in disgust. “I’m kidding, by the way. I know you can take care of yourself. Just letting you know I’m leaving so you don’t think I’ve been kidnapped or killed or something.”

“Thank God I don’t have to deal with the paperwork for a missing person,” you deadpanned and took a drink of your Sprite. “No but for real, enjoy the trip. I’ll be fine, and so will you.”

“Thanks,” your best friend sighed back. “I’ll be back in a week or so. I’m gonna go home and pack now, so if anything’s a mess when you get home- actually, nevermind. That doesn’t bother you at all. Bye.”

“Hey-” you started to protest, but the line went dead and you rolled your eyes.

Well. At least now you could have sushi for dinner without having to listen to Sua complain about the smell of raw fish.

You were so ready to become a couch potato as soon as you came home. One of the new employees at work, Jun, had screwed up a pretty important document, so you’d had to stay late and help him fix it. It wasn’t his fault, he was still new, but you were tired nonetheless. You took your shoes off by the door and turned the lights on in the kitchen, placing the bag of takeout on the counter before you heard it.

The water.

You had never had any issues with the pipes in your apartment, but something had obviously gone wrong with the pipes under the bathroom sink, because the floor was absolutely flooded. You gasped and shut your eyes tightly for a second, willing the problem to be miraculously gone as soon as you opened them again. Alas, no such luck.

The tears pressed behind your eyes, begging to make their escape. You tried to hold them back as you thought about what to do to solve the problem. The faucet wasn’t on, so it was definitely the pipes. Damn. You thought about calling the apartment management and asking for help, but their turnover time was two days at the best of times, and the office was already closed for the day. You heaved a deep sigh as you settled on the best option you could think of. You pressed the name in your contacts and begged the universe that he would pick up.

“What’s up?”

Seungcheol sounded relaxed and unbothered, and you could hear the chatter of a TV in the background. You hated to bother him, but hey, it was his little sister’s apartment too. You cleared your throat to try and get rid of the thickness in your throat brought on by the tears.

“Hey, Cheol,” you began, and you heard him sit up immediately and pause whatever was playing on the TV.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He sounded worried; he usually only called you an endearment when he was worried or teasing you. Clearing your throat had evidently not been enough to get rid of the tears in your voice. Some of them finally escaped in tracks down your cheeks, and you swore, leaning your forehead against the doorframe.

“So uh, I just got home, and Sua isn’t here because she’s in Tokyo and I-”

“Y/N, I don’t care about Sua right now. I know she’s fine, she landed half an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”

“The guest bathroom is flooded, like completely, and I don’t know what to do.”

You heard the rustling of clothes and what sounded like keys jingling through the phone. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were fucking dying,” Seungcheol scolded, and you hiccupped a little, apologizing. “No, don’t worry darling, I’m coming over to help, okay?”

“Okay.”

You were sniffling, and you heard him curse under his breath. You hung up after a quick goodbye, and then you were left alone with the mess again. Looking closer, you realized that the bath mat was soaked along with a towel left on the floor. You sighed and took your socks off, deciding to do something productive while waiting for your knight in shining armor.

You took a picture and sent it to Sua, who replied immediately with a bunch of question marks and swear words directed to the apartment management. She also realized they would be no help at this hour. Great.

Once the soaked bath mat and towel were hung up and dripping into the tub as opposed to the flooded floor, you started clearing out some of the decorations that were taking up floor space. There was a giant plant, two laundry baskets, and a really heavy wooden dresser that held all your clean towels - you didn’t want the wood to rot.

You heard the door open while you were in the process of moving the plant. Honestly, you should have waited for Seungcheol to move this one; the plant was heavy as fuck and really awkward to carry, and you could feel your back protesting before you had even gotten it outside of the bathroom.

“What the hell, Y/N.”

The voice was closely followed by a pair of hands grabbing the plant from you and heaving it outside of the door in mere seconds. Showoff.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asked after placing the plant down on a towel, grabbing your upper arm gently. You nodded, and he sighed, squeezing your arm. “Let’s see the- oh fuck.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Hysterically. The bathroom floor was covered in two inches of water, and the sound of more spraying out was echoing off the walls. Your best friend’s brother glared at you for two seconds before he started laughing too. It wasn’t funny, but it kind of was. How had this even happened? And how had Sua not seen anything when she was home to pack?

“Sorry, Cheol,” you giggled, wiping under your eyes to get rid of the tears that were still falling. Typical. “I, uh, wanted to move the plant and the dresser to make more room and-”

“Darling, that plant was almost heavier than you are. Not to mention that dresser. What were you thinking?”

His voice soothed your panic. He had been solving your problems for the past eighteen years, after all; this was nothing he couldn’t handle. He looked ruffled, you realized. He had been relaxing after a long day at work when you called, and had gotten to your apartment as fast as he could just to help you. And now he was here, being all nice and caring and calling you sweet names. You felt like a stupid child.

“I-I’m sorry. For calling you, I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Absolutely not. You can call me about anything at any time, you got that?” he asked sternly, gazing directly into your eyes. You swallowed, but nodded. His words gave you unwelcome butterflies, the intensity of his gaze making you look away.

“Got it,” you replied when a nod didn’t seem to be enough for him. “Uhm, so how do we deal with this?”

For a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady spray of water coming from under the sink. You realized that all the products underneath would be useless now, and you would probably have to change out the entire cabinet housing the pipes. You felt a migraine start a steady throb against your temples, and you deflated even more, resting against the doorway.

“It’s okay, I’ll fix it for you, darling,” Seungcheol said softly, pulling you in for a hug. Your stomach erupted in butterflies again. You seriously needed some psychological help. “Just go change, okay? You must be exhausted.”

You shook your head, but relented when he lifted an eyebrow at you. You went to your room and closed the door. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at nothing. Your bathroom was flooded. And your best friend’s brother was helping you fix it, calling you sweet nicknames and saying shit straight out of a romance novel - as if your dumb crush on him needed any more encouragement. You sunk onto the edge of your bed for a moment, just breathing deeply and blinking back more tears. Enough was enough.

When you were fourteen or so, you’d had a crush on Seungcheol. Who wouldn’t? He was tall, pretty, smelled good, and helped you with your homework. Ever since then, it would come and go, usually at the most inopportune times. You appreciated his looks pretty often, particularly when he came over to fix stuff for you and Sua, but you tried not to think about it much - mostly out of self preservation. He was still pretty, still nice, still smelled good, and whenever you let your mind wander for more than five seconds, you knew you were in danger.

You definitely should get it under control. First of all, he had known you since you were six. He had seen all your weird phases, watched you find your own identity, and that came with some really cringy stuff. Additionally, you were his little sister’s best friend. You had some loyalty to her, sure, but more than anything you were sure that he saw you as an extra sister or something. Considering the amount of time you had spent at their house growing up, that would only be logical.

Armed with the reminder of why he would never be into you, you shook it all off. You located your regular home attire - bike shorts and a big t-shirt which origins you forgot - and put your hair up and out of your face. Then you steeled yourself again, vowing not to cry at the sight of the water, and walked back towards the accursed bathroom.

You found Seungcheol on his knees in front of the open cabinet from where the water came. He was hunched over, hand in front of him to block some of the water and seemingly looking for something. His white t-shirt had been sprayed with water, and it was sticking to his chest. You gulped at the sight, repeating that he saw you as an annoying crybaby to yourself in order to stop the stupid butterflies that had seemingly taken up permanent residence in your guts.

“Do you need a flashlight or something?” you asked timidly, making him look up at you. He paused and blinked at you once, twice, before clearing his throat and nodding. You got out your phone and turned the flashlight on, carefully stepping in behind him so as not to splash him.

“I, uh, think we need to remove this middle shelf from the cabinet,” he said, having positioned himself to shield you from the spray.

“Alright,” you replied, placing your phone to the side and leaning to grab the shelf before being stopped by one of his hands. He had placed it carefully on bare skin so as not to get your clothes wet. Damn him. “What? I’ll just grab it and get it out of the way for you.”

He scoffed. “You’ll get wet.”

Now it was your turn to blink at him stupidly, eyes wide and questioning. You could feel your cheeks burning, as did your arm where his hand was resting. This stupid, stupid man was going to make you fall in love with him, and that just couldn’t happen. At all.

“Who cares, Cheol? It’s just water. Let me get it out of your way, and I’ll hold the flashlight again, okay?”

He grimaced, but let go of your arm. You grabbed both sides of the shelf and lifted it. It took a bit of pressure, but eventually it came loose. You backed up slowly and brought the shelf over the tub with the soaked bath mat and dirty towel. Gross.

Even though you had been fast, Seungcheol had been right; your entire torso was soaked with water. You decided that you could do something about it after the leak was dealt with, and so you just ignored it and grabbed your phone again. Your friend was staring at your front with a wrinkle between his brows, mouth open a little, and you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“Cheol.” He looked up at you. “It’s fine. I know you wanted to shield me or whatever, but it’s just a shirt. Now please, help me solve this?”

He nodded wordlessly and turned back to the considerably more spacious cabinet, taking a deep breath. His pout was cute, and you hated your heart for beating faster at the sight of him.

Seungcheol seemed to finally have found what he was looking for, and reached into the cabinet. You altered the angle of the light to make sure he could still see what he was doing despite the shadow of his arm. He grabbed ahold of something and started tugging, his biceps flexing distractingly and his eyebrows screwing up in effort. You were definitely not holding the flashlight in a particularly helpful way anymore, but thankfully your helper didn’t seem to mind.

After a second or two the water slowed before stopping completely, and you cheered out loud. The sound had somehow become grating after only an hour, and the silence was very much welcome. Seungcheol stood up with a wince, holding a hand to his back like an old man. Without thinking, you pulled him into you and gave him a bear hug. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, but held them back. You were just so grateful to have him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You felt him laugh against you before he wrapped an arm gently around you and returned the hug. You pressed your cheek to his chest, just standing there and enjoying the embrace for a while before your brain would inevitably come back online. You felt his chin press against the top of your head for a second before he pulled away suddenly.

“Shit, sorry, I’m all-”

“I said I don’t care, stupid,” you scoffed, but your cheeks were definitely getting red now. How could you have just grabbed him like that? And embraced him? You would have cried if you hadn’t been so tired your head felt like it was full of cotton.

Now that you thought about it, you were extremely tired. It felt like a movie effect, the way your blood pressure just suddenly dropped and you swayed to the side. You were expecting a splash and a very uncomfortable kiss with the tile floor, but instead you found yourself back in Seungcheol’s arms. Oh.

Again with the stupid romance novel shit. The universe was testing you for sure. How were you supposed to resist him, really? You were doomed. Even the thought of your infatuation with him being one-sided could no longer bring you back down to the ground. You were simply fucked.

“When was the last time you ate anything?”

And he cares? Fuck the universe, seriously.

“Uhm, I think it was lunch. I stayed pretty late at work, so-”

“Please tell me you have food.”

“Y-Yeah. It’s uh, it’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

Without hesitation, the man picked you up and carried you into the kitchen. Your heart was going crazy, as were the butterflies in your stomach. You were at a loss for words, just going limp in his arms as he brought you to the dining table and placed you on one of the chairs gingerly. You continued to simply blink at him as he disappeared back into the hallway and came back with his hoodie, pulling it over your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

You wanted to scream and kick your feet, because was this man even real? You had no idea how you had deluded yourself into thinking your feelings toward him were sisterly, because currently, your pussy was screaming for him to come ruin you. And honestly? Both your heart and your head kind of agreed at this moment. You were so screwed.

When he came back with your sushi all plated and a glass for the drink you had bought, you couldn’t help but let the tears come back. You hated that you were so weepy, especially in front of a man you apparently were head over heels for, but it was just who you were. You were sad? You cried. Happy? Cried. Angry? Waterworks. You were helpless to it, and apparently to him, too.

“Good job picking up food on the way back home,” he teased, placing the plate in front of you. Then he poured your drink into your glass for you, promptly ignoring the way you were wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Shut up, I’m an adult,” you pouted back. He snorted loudly and sank into the chair opposite you, looking at you as you picked up your chopsticks and got ready to eat.

“Sometimes, maybe,” he drawled with a smirk. You glared at him, but your teary eyes had little to no effect, and you knew it. “I’m kidding, baby. I know.”

He was still studying your face as you placed the first piece of heaven into your mouth, sighing happily and smiling in delight. It made him smile, too, and you could have died at the sight of his dimples. At this point, you had just accepted the butterflies and their claim to your stomach; doing anything else seemed futile.

“I’m sorry I’m so weepy, Cheol,” you said between bites, pouting a little. He shook his head but you interrupted him before he could speak. “No, really. There was no reason to cry so much, or so many times, but I just- I don’t know. I literally got home right before I called you, and that was, what? At around-”

“9.30.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and tilting your head back in exhaustion. “9.30. I’m just tired, is what I’m trying to say.” You sat back up and huffed, sending him an embarrassed smile.

“And what I’m trying to say,” Seungcheol said while you readjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, “is to not worry about it. I know you’re an emotional person, but that’s okay.” He paused for a second, smiling when you almost dropped your sushi into the soy sauce. “Being emotional is just a tiny part of who you are. You excel at so much; it’s okay to have a few flaws. We all do, I promise. Besides, being emotional isn’t really a flaw, it’s just part of being human.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. First of all, he was way too well-spoken to be a man in his twenties. Second of all, if he was implying that he, of all people, had any flaws, he was dead wrong. You had never seen him fail at anything, had never seen him do something awkward, even as a child. God, you wished he had, because maybe then he could have remained the brother of your best friend instead of becoming so incredibly meaningful to you.

“As if you have any flaws,” you mumbled, sticking another piece of food in your mouth. At least the sushi was good.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I’m twenty-seven and single. There’s plenty wrong with me.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Being single is not a flaw, you dummy. It’s just a relationship status. Who cares.”

“As if that’s all it is,” he laughed back.

“Okay, so the fact that I’m single reflects badly on me? ” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

Your plate was empty, and your chopsticks were resting on the edge of it. The only sound in the apartment was a steady, slow drip from the drying bath mat in the bathroom. You were staring at one another from across the table. Why the tension suddenly was so thick was anyone’s guess. All you knew was that the air in your little kitchen suddenly felt suffocating.

“You’re single?” he asked after a while, and you laughed a little.

“Yeah, Cheol.”

“What about that dude, what was his name… Mingyu?”

“Ew,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “God no. We went on like, one date and then decided it was weird to be anything other than friends. He feels more like a brother than anything.”

“What about Chan?”

“Wh- Chan? That was four years ago,” you laughed, shaking your head. At the curious tilt of his head, you kept going: “He was fine, we just got stressed during college and broke up. It happens.”

Something about this line of questioning felt momentous, for a few reasons. One, he was inquiring about your dating life, a topic the two of you generally never talked about. Two, he remembered the name of potential partners that had been in your life, even ones that hadn’t stuck around for long (or at all, in Mingyu’s case). And three… the way he looked at you was different. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t place, something you didn’t know if you dared hope for.

“Well he’s obviously an idiot,” Seungcheol said under his breath. You were probably not supposed to hear it, but you did. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he looked at you guiltily, as if he had done something wrong. “I just meant that- uhm.”

A few seconds passed in silence. You barely dared to breathe. You were hoping he would keep going, hoping he would clarify before your thoughts went way too far again. The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Finally, he let out the heaviest sigh you’d ever heard.

“No, you know what, I meant it. He was an idiot for breaking up with you, because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Time stopped. What do you say after that? You wanted to scream with joy and jump his bones, of course, but you couldn’t exactly do that. What if he didn’t mean it like that? If he didn’t feel the way you hoped he was implying? Because he, or more specifically his sister, was such a huge part of your life, and awkwardness was just not an option.

“Are-” you started, but blinked and started over. “Are you… serious?”

“Of course I am, Y/N.” He sounded almost exasperated. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, making it fall over his forehead in the most attractive way you had ever seen. Fucking. Unfair. “I’m not- I mean. I get it if you don’t feel the same or anything, but-”

“Feel what, exactly?” When he stared at you in confusion, you elaborated. “Please be clear with me, Cheol. I don’t want to keep guessing.”

It had come out as a whisper, but he had heard you. His expression softened, and the wrinkle between his brows disappeared. His mouth was slightly open as he seemingly looked for the right words. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you almost felt it in your throat.

“Baby,” he started, and it made your breath hitch. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as dense as you are.”

“Hey!”

“No, seriously,” he kept going, not a single trace of evidence that he was joking, “do you actually mean to tell me you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“Look, I don’t-”

“I guess you don’t, and in that case, that’s my bad.” He got up from his chair and rounded the table, crouching next to your chair and grabbing your hand. “I am so ridiculously into you, it’s not even funny. Sua literally won’t stop teasing me about it, neither will my parents or my friends. No matter how hard I try I can’t stop thinking about you, but I’m honestly not sure I would want to even if I could. You mean so much to me, Y/N, and I really don’t want to be overbearing but I- fuck, I can’t-” he shuts his eyes in an attempt to collect himself, “I love you, baby, and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine, but I at least need you to know that I’m on my goddamn knees for you.”

Your glass, still containing some of your soda, toppled over from the force with which you left your chair. The way you threw yourself at Seungcheol forced him back, but you took the opportunity and placed yourself in his lap as you kissed him deeply. It took him half a second to respond, but then he was kissing you so ardently that you never wanted him to stop.

His arm wrapped around you from behind and pressed you to his chest. You could not give less of a shit that he was sprawled on your kitchen floor, or that you were down there with him, because you were kissing him. You were kissing the man that you most definitely had been in love with since you were a teenager, and fuck did it feel good.

“I, uh, take it you feel the same, then?” he asked after having reluctantly pulled away. You pressed your forehead to his.

“I bet that I have loved you longer.” You were breathing heavily, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Absolutely not,” he replied before kissing you again.

This time, you couldn’t hold back. You nibbled gently on his lower lip before soothing it over with your tongue. Seungcheol groaned deep in his chest and brought his left hand into your hair, pressing you even closer to him. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue tangle with his, and you felt the way he became jelly underneath you. You were not faring much better, your panties hot and sticky and your hands shaking. Despite this, you snaked one hand into his hair and tugged on it; his hips jumped in response, the action seemingly completely involuntary. You didn’t think you’d ever experienced anything hotter.

“Please, baby,” he heaved as you trailed your lips down his neck, “I can’t take it.”

You rolled your hips against his slowly, and that seemed to be his breaking point. He rolled you underneath him before standing up and taking you with him, carrying you into your bedroom while you followed the shape of his jaw up to his ear with your mouth. A shudder streaked through him as you sucked on the spot behind his left ear, his arms tightening around you and a hoarse moan leaving him.

You barely noticed him closing your bedroom door, only brought back to reality by the sensation of falling when he dropped you on your bed. You whined at the loss of contact, which made him smile; he loved the way you craved him, because honestly, he felt the exact same way about you. So he was quick to cover your body with his, his lips back on yours with a shuddered sigh from the both of you.

He felt so big above you, and yet you felt so safe. Not once had he done anything to hurt you. In fact, he had always been the one to take care of you and prevent you from being hurt. (Along with Sua, but you didn’t really want to think about her at that moment). His weight on top of you made you shudder in delight, your hands starting to wander. You played with the hem of his white t-shirt, still damp from the earlier bathroom catastrophe, but you didn’t care at all. All you wanted was to feel his skin against yours.

He was breathing as if he had run a marathon when he pulled away from your lips. He stared into your eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance, but not finding any.

“Are you sure, darling?” he asked, and your heart swelled about three sizes.

“I’m so sure, Cheol. Please, please, I need you.” You were properly whining now, but you were far past caring.

“Okay baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling away to get his shirt up and over his head. He was about to lay back over you, but froze and let his eyes wander your body. He shut his eyes, his forehead wrinkling once again as he took a few deep breaths. “You in my hoodie and underneath me, I can’t- Y/N, baby, I need a second, I’m so-”

You giggled a little before grabbing the hem of said hoodie, pulling it up and over your head. Apparently, that didn’t help, as Seungcheol’s grip on the sheets tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“I thought this would be better,” you said in confusion, blinking up at him.

“I’m actually going to die,” he gritted out, sounding as if he was genuinely in pain. “I don’t think you realize what seeing you in a wet t-shirt did to me earlier, sweetheart. What it’s doing to me now is just torture.” You flushed at his words, having forgotten that little detail. “Wait. Is that my shirt?” You glanced down and flushed even more when you realized it must be. “Fuck, gonna be the death of me, gonna fucking-”

He cut himself off by pressing his lips against yours again. Your head immediately got fuzzy again, the only thought you could formulate being that of his dick inside of you. When he ground his hips against yours and you felt the outline of it, you let out the most sinful moan Seungcheol has ever heard, which caused his hips to keep grinding into you without his brain’s permission. You disconnected your lips from his for just long enough to pull your wet shirt off your alarmingly hot body, and the man on top of you didn’t even have the strength to look at you without a shirt. He might actually have came in his pants if he did.

You didn’t even mind, because you finally had his skin pressed against yours. The heat of him poured over you, driving you absolutely insane and making you whimper against his lips. If he didn’t do something in the next minute, you would just have to take care of yourself.

“Cheol-”

“Please say it again,” he begged, his lips trailing down your neck toward your breasts.

“Cheol,” you sighed, and he moaned against your skin, his dick grinding perfectly against your clit even through four layers of fabric. You barely recognized your own sounds even as you felt them leave your lips, so high on his proximity you couldn’t have produced a thought if you tried.

When you repeated his name one more time he finally closed his lips around your right nipple, his deft fingers playing with the other and his cock still pressing deliciously against your pussy. Your hips lifted to grind back on him, and he actually whined for you.

“Seungcheol,” you whined, and his only response was a harsh thrust of his hips and another whine. “Please, take my shorts off, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He let go of your nipple, chuckling as he looked into your eyes and dragged his hands down to rest on your hips. “Want these off?” he asked, flicking the elastic of your bike shorts against your skin. You nodded frantically, pressing your hips up into his again. He looked like he wanted to protest, so you decided to do the only logical thing and beg for his cock.

“Cheol, please please please, take my shorts off? I need it, please,” you begged, your eyes big and innocent as you stared into his. “I want your cock, baby, want it inside me, please.”

Honestly, it was no surprise that his confident facade crumbled along with his will to tease you any longer. If he was telling the truth, and you had no reason not to believe him, he had been in love with you for a long time. You had played dirty by begging him for his cock when he had already been on the verge of losing his mind - especially with those big, innocent eyes of yours. How was he supposed to say no to you?

“Evil, evil woman, fuck,” he muttered to himself as he all but tore the shorts down your legs along with your panties.

The sight of you, his absolute dream, naked beneath him made him believe in God for two whole seconds, for who could have accomplished something like you but an almighty deity? He must have shaped you with his own two hands, he thought, before coming back to his senses and thinking that no, you were a creation of your own. No one but you could have accomplished something like you.

With very little preamble, Seungcheol lowered himself between your thighs, kissing up the inside of each thigh as he went. He looked up and met your gaze, and you had never seen a more erotic sight. Sure, other people had gone down on you before, but none of them had been Seungcheol; none of them had been the one that counted. His big brown eyes met yours, and you swore you saw raw hunger in them.

“May I, baby? Please?”

“You- You’re begging to eat me out?” you asked, in complete and utter shock. You had figured this was somewhat of a chore to him, something that needed to be done both to woo you and to prep you for his cock. One look at his glazed eyes had you changing your mind.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. His voice was hoarse and his eyes desperate, that simple look giving you enough material for many fantasies in the future. “Please, let me eat you out?”

What were you supposed to do, say no? Absolutely not. You simply nodded at him, and he fucking dove for it. His tongue explored your folds gently but firmly, and as soon as the flavor of you met his taste buds, he was in heaven. His hips ground into the mattress of their own volition as he was lapping at you, his tongue mapping you out and figuring out what brought you the most pleasure.

Seungcheol’s eyes were shut in pleasure, your juices covering his chin all the way up to his nose, but he couldn’t think of anything better. He wanted to drown in you, on his stomach between your legs, or - if he was allowed to dream - underneath you while you were grinding all over his face, taking all the pleasure you could from him.

You weren’t exactly complaining, either. His tongue felt divine, moving to gently circle your clit before he sucked it into his mouth. When your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging in pleasure, your lover let out a grunt that sent vibrations traveling through your entire body.

“F-Fingers, Cheol, please-”

He just grunted an affirmative and pressed his middle finger into you slowly. The warmth surrounding his finger drove him insane, making his hips press harder against the mattress and his eyes squeeze tighter. Having something to clench down on brought your pleasure to even greater heights, and you started to feel the familiar tightening signaling your release. You had felt the outline of his dick earlier, and you knew you would need another finger to make him fit.

“Another, I need you to fit later, baby.”

Your voice came out shaky, but the man consuming your pussy like it was the best meal he’d ever had didn’t seem to mind. He simply let his ring finger join his other inside you, grunting when he felt how tight you were around him. The tightening in your lower belly grew more and more intense by the second, the filthy noises of Seungcheol devouring you bringing you that much closer to the edge. You let out a mewl that sounded like it came straight from a porno, and felt his grip tighten on your thigh.

“I’m so close, baby, so close, please-”

“Come for me,” he growled hoarsely before resuming his delicious torture of your clit.

You followed his request a second later, moaning loudly and squirming around on the bed. His free hand pressed down over your hips to keep you still as he coaxed you through it, and he didn’t stop until the overstimulation almost hurt.

His fingers left your pussy gently, absolutely covered in your slick. You blushed as he put them in his mouth, moaning at the flavor as if you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. And to him, you were. He would remember the flavor of you until the day he died.

Your chest was rising and falling as you gulped down air. The way Seungcheol couldn’t help but grind into the mattress again made you want to cry, because how could he be so perfect? And how could he want you, of all people?

When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and you loved it. It was a reminder of just how voraciously he had just eaten you out, and you took the opportunity to reach down and cup him over his underwear. He hissed and pulled his hips back, panting already.

“I- you can’t.”

“But, baby I just want to return the favor-”

“My love, if you touch me again I can’t guarantee that I will have faculties to be inside you.”

His words made you laugh, both because of how ridiculous his phrasing was, but also because of the effect you seemed to have on him. Had he really been driven so far by making out with you and making you cum? It seemed like it.

“I love you so much,” you ended up breathing out. He gazed into your eyes so adoringly you felt like time stopped again.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

His response prompted you to kiss him, and he deflated on top of you. As he sunk further into your embrace, his still-covered dick brushed against your wet core, and the whine he let out was almost pathetic.

“I hate to ruin the moment, but please, let me be inside you now. I think I’ll die if I can’t,” he confessed. You laughed out loud again before nodding, kissing and sucking a trail down his neck while he removed his boxers. “Condom?”

“I don’t have any, but I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You could practically see Seungcheol’s brain grind to a halt. “But, I mean, if you don’t want to we can just wai-”

“No!” he almost yelled, his entire face flushing pink. “No, I’m clean too, and I- fuck, I would love to be inside you without a condom.”

You nodded, and he took a deep breath. The thought of having him inside you without a barrier excited you to no end, and it seemed he felt the same. You kissed him passionately again while he lined himself up with your core, and moaned through a sigh as he pushed into you. He didn’t have a monster cock or anything, but it was still bigger than what you were used to taking.

As he bottomed out, he let out a punched out sigh. You could feel him shaking on top of you, and did your best not to move or clench down on him. Unfortunately, your pussy didn’t exactly obey you and clenched down anyway. It made Seungcheol’s breath hitch, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight so as not to look at you while he was trying not to cum.

“I swear,” he wheezed, “you are going to kill me.”

His words made you chuckle, which in turn made him groan and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You were ready for him to move, and told him as much, but he still needed a second. You could feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, as per usual feeling weepy as soon as you felt a big wave of emotion. To distract yourself, you locked your lips with his and kissed him with all the passion you had left to give.

As your tongue tangled with his he groaned low in his throat, and his hips thrust into you of their own accord. Once he had started, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. He started out fairly slow, taking his time to make sure you weren’t hurting at all. Then you accidentally clenched down on him, and he could no longer hold back.

He started pounding into you, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and making you dizzy. You moaned out every time the tip of him hit the spongy spot inside you, and you couldn’t help the way you were clenching around him. You were hurtling toward your end so fast it was almost alarming. He filled you up so perfectly, so perfectly thick and long, it was as if you were made for one another.

Seungcheol was mumbling an endless stream of praise, grunting every time your cunt squeezed him a bit tighter. He felt like he was in heaven, your slick walls molded around him in a way that made him mourn the time spent doing anything other than this. He wanted to keep you like this, impaled on his cock and making you feel as good as you ever had.

Sadly, he was so wound up he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he usually did. While he didn’t blow immediately as he had been worried he would, he started feeling his balls drawing up around five minutes in. The way your nails were scratching down his back wasn’t helping his situation.

In an effort to save himself from cumming before you, he lowered a hand to circle the nub of your clit gently. The extra stimulation was exactly what you needed to build the rest of the way to the edge, and you tangled your hands in his hair as your thighs shook.

“Please, Cheol, baby, I’m gonna-”

“Oh thank God, please cum around me, baby, wanna feel it,” he begged, and it did the trick.

Your orgasm was spectacular, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as you exploded around him. You were moaning his name, clawing at his back and arching your back to the high heavens. Your toes actually curled. It was the orgasm of orgasms.

Seeing you like that, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he brought you pleasure was enough for Seungcheol to follow you over the edge. He came so hard he saw nothing but white, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into you. His face was pressed into your neck, but his moans could not be concealed even if he tried.

You both lay there, panting and soaked in sweat, for a pretty long time before he finally pulled out and rolled off of you. He sprawled on his back and stayed like that, his eyes shut in complete and utter bliss and his heart beating out of his chest. Your hair was an absolute bird’s nest around you, and there were tear tracks running down your cheeks and into your hairline.

You clumsily flopped over to rest against his side, and he pulled you in until your head was resting right over his heart. You slung your bare leg over his waist, and he groaned in what sounded like agony.

“You can’t do this to me,” he whined, and you giggled lightly at him.

“I just put my leg on you, baby,” you said, looking up at him innocently, and he had to shut his eyes for a second and remind himself he wasn’t dreaming. You, yourself weren’t entirely convinced all this wasn’t a dream; and if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“Okay, well you’ve just seen what seeing you in a hoodie and bike shorts does to me, so,” he reminded you, and you bit back a grin. It was good to know you could tease him easily.

You laid in silence for a while, just listening to his heart beating against his ribcage. Every once in a while it would slow down, and then he would look down at you and it would speed back up. Your heart seemed to match the pace of his, and you found that you loved it that way.

“So, “ Seungcheol started, and you pulled yourself up on your elbow to look at him as he talked. “That… just happened.” You snorted into a laugh, and he joined you, flicking your forehead gently. “I uh, I’m going to a work thing on Friday. I usually don’t bring a date because, well, because I’m usually single, but maybe, this time, I could bring you?”

You blinked at him slowly, admiring him in the light from your bedside lamp. He was pretty no matter what, but with his cheeks glowing and his eyes glittering, he was beyond what was natural, in your opinion. You stroked a bit of his hair behind his ear and hummed.

“I mean, are you not single anymore?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhhhh-” he was interrupted by your laughter, and he pouted at you jokingly. “Don’t do that! I get scared I fucked up,” he said and rolled over to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, “I just don’t know either.” You paused. “Hey Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

At your words, his entire face lit up. He started giggling and buried his face in your hair, trying to hide from view. Even still, you knew he would be blushing. His arms squeezed tighter around you as he pulled you even closer, and you didn’t even mind that you couldn’t breathe.

“I was going to ask,” he ended up whining once brain function had returned to him. “Can I?”

“I mean, sure?” you answered, trying your hardest not to just lean in and kiss away his pout. Your willpower sucked, so you did it anyway.

“Great! Hey, Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

You bit your lip to hold in your laughter, but all it did was summon your boyfriend’s gaze to your mouth. You released it and broke out into a huge grin, nodding.

“I would love nothing more.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Sua said thoughtfully, “you finally put him out of his misery?”

It was a week later, and you were sitting on your balcony with Sua and drinking coffee. The bathroom floor was now dry, and while the stupid bath mat had been unsalvageable, everything else had been fine. The apartment management had gotten the leak fixed after five days, proving that calling Seungcheol had been the right choice for more reasons than one.

Even thinking about him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your boyfriend. The one who had brought you to a work function as your first date, and the one who had gotten jealous because you had greeted a coworker of his when he was getting you a drink. The one that had helped you save your apartment from water damage. The one you had loved for the past decade.

“Okay but how could I have put him through misery if I didn’t know he liked me, hm?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at your friend. She had her eyes closed, face turned toward the sun like an old lady.

“You cannot be serious,” she said incredulously, turning toward you and opening her eyes wide to show her shock. “You’re telling me you didn’t know Cheol was in love with you? He has been so down bad for you since we were like fourteen, man. He bought you flowers for your graduation. He reminded you to take your allergy pills before going to a dog café.” You flushed a little at your own blindness, but Sua just sighed and turned back toward the sun, her eyes closed again. “At least it will be easy to kill him if he hurts you.”

a/n: if you liked this, please don't forget to like and reblog! <3

masterlist

#svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #svt fic #svt fanfic #sescoups writes

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unova-shopping-mall-9 · 2 years ago

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literally begging u all to stop consuming our products

So I drank the repel, like an idiot. I collapsed and my stomach feels like it’s burning. Why the fuck did I think this was a good idea…

#shopping mall nine #pkmn irl

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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

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Keep This Low Key

💜 Pairings: Choso x F!reader- and Gojo x reader- Rating: Explicit- MDNI

💜 Contents/Warnings: Remember this is a slow burn. You'll hate Cho in this and reader lol. In this chapter, blow jobs, sixty nine, kissing, fingering and play. Jealous angst. Warning- the reader and Choso are with other ppl (intimately- reader w/Gojo in this chap- cho w/Amber) They're idiots. Plz don't read if upset about this kind of thing, Cho and reader are NOT dating but still. HEAVY ANGST this chap like I cried writing it.

💜 Word Count: this chap - 10.8k (longest so far!)

💜 Summary: You have been Choso's best friend for years, and one night he has a date with Yuki, his girlfriend, while you have a date with Ino, your boyfriend, only for them both to break up with you at the same time! You all think of calling each other, but run right into each other. Choso brings you home since you didn't even have your car, and you two are crying over a couple beers and a silly movie, only to have a sudden idea. Why not say fuck dating, fuck heartbreak, and just fuck each other?

No drama, no mess, no upset, and you two are such good friends, nothing can go wrong, right? The only agreement is no feelings, and if you all find a s/o, you'll end things. But the moment Choso opens his heart to you, and the moment you start falling, things get messy, as you realize he's the best you've had, and you're falling hard. Will you all stay friends, become more, or will everything blow up?

✨️Comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoy ✨️

Chapter Three 💜 Masterlist 💜 Playlist 💜

Chapter Four

Choso’s POV

Choso and you are out shopping at the mall, it’s been so long since you all have done this, used to be a frequent occurrence for you. You both walk into Hot Topic, you giggle at the memories in the dark store with the blaring emo music, fingers brushing against a black anime shirt as Choso starts looking at some of the black spiky bracelets on the racks.

“God, too many memories here.” He muses, looking at you with a little smile, you’re so pretty today, you’re just in some ripped jeans and a band tee, his band on you, more like how he remembers you. Though Choso adores each and every version of you over the many years, something is so sweet when you’re comfortable and casual with him like this.

“A lot of memories.” You agree, bending over then, those jeans are tight and form fitting, and the sight of your ass like this?

After he’d literally edged you a week ago, you all had done nothing but hang out, the entire time he’s constantly dying to taste you again, to touch you, but it seemed like you weren’t backing down, and neither was he. He feels horrible that you saw that kiss, the kiss that happened because the thought of you with Gojo had him feeling so petty, so stupid.

Now to think you saw him? How did it make you feel? How did Gojo make you feel, having left a bruise on your pretty neck, how did you like kissing him? The thoughts are destroying him, it’s as if you won’t leave his head, leave his every dream, he can practically taste you in his memories on his tongue. Like some drug he’s now addicted to but can’t have.

And you’re right there, but not there. You’re a little distant, and it breaks him, it confuses him, did you not want him anymore? Was Gojo in your head like high school, should he protect his heart? A million questions enter Choso’s already scattered brain while studying your delicate features, your pretty face that won’t leave his brain for even a second.

Sleeping with you had made every feeling from high school come back with a vengeance, and knowing Gojo is in the picture is torture, it’s as if you’re just out of reach, and now he knows that he hurt you too. After you all slept together and you had run, he’d been so upset, so worried about it, and you must have thought he had just dismissed what happened.

Choso jerked off before even coming to get you today, he’d hoped it would give him just a little clarity, but you fuck his mind up any which way. Just inhaling your scent when you hug him, that fruity shampoo you use, whatever body spray it is you’ve used since school days, takes over his senses, whatever he has left of them. Just feeling your warm body, your soft skin.

You walk up to him now, brushing against him, looking at the bracelets he’s completely forgotten about. “Those are so cool! You should get em, Cho bear.”

“You think so?” You nod, and he hums to himself, peeking over at them and snatching them up. “If you like them.”

“I do! Ugh we spent so much time here, oh and Spencers! We should go there next.” You giggle, the sound so pleasing to his ears, especially since you’ve been a little quiet and distant this week. He looks down at you, your eyes are glittering, you’re biting your lower lip.

“We will. What about this shirt, isn’t that your anime husbando?” You laugh at that, nodding. “Grab that one then. Oh, this skirt…”

“It’s too short!”

“Could wear it around me.” He says before he thinks better, and watches you blush all over as you do, down your neck and even your chest, while he holds up the little pink plaid skirt with chains.

“Wear it around you, why?” You finger the material, shyly looking down, Choso steps closer, leaning down and grabbing your hip, you suck in a breath, and he feels your body tense.

“Why wouldn’t I wanna see you in that? Die to see your pretty legs in it-” His phone starts ringing now, making him take a breath and a step back, you curiously look at it, lips tensing just a bit.

“Ah, is that the girlfriend?” You ask, putting the skirt on the wrack and turning away from him.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He wants you as his girlfriend, god it’s not even a good enough word for what he really wants, but how does he even say it!? How can he ruin you being in his life, what if he’s not ‘manly’ enough for you, too? What if he’s not good enough!?

He gulps down his words as you turn back and look at it, ringing again. “Well you can answer it, I’m just your friend remember, no biggie.” Your words make him sick to his stomach, churning all around, sure it’s true but…

Fuck, it hurts.

He doesn’t even care for this girl either way, she’s some distraction, and she’s overtly distracting him. She’s a huge fan of his band and has been, so she’s quite annoyingly persistent. She’s sweet and very pretty, but god just look at you, at how beautiful you are just existing near him, in his orbit, pulling him in with that gravity you’re clueless of.

Having pushed you in the dark recesses of his mind for so long and forcing himself to see you as a best friend had been so difficult, but since your intimacy it’s become impossible. It’s as if you both opened some can of worms you really should not have, but now he’s dying to do it again, again, again.

He wants you to cum all over his cock again, fuck especially without the protection, so insane it had felt, the only time he had done so. He wants to fill you up full of his cum, watch it ooze out of your perfect little cunt, just to put more loads inside of you. You do something to him Yuki never did, no one ever has, it’s things he didn’t even know he craved.

“Cho, it’s three calls, answer.” You sound irritated then, Choso sighs.

“It’s rude.”

“It’s not, go ahead.” Choso steps out now, taking a breath of air and entering the busy mall right outside of the open Hot Topic doors.

“Hello?” He asks, he hopes he doesn’t sound rude, but he’s annoyed that she’s called so much.

“Choso! Oh my god, listen, I have such a good gig for you all. I just had to tell you!” Amber says, oh yeah that’s her name… Choso forgets, it seems the only name ingrained in his mind is yours now.

“Oh shit, what is it?” He asks, he’s excited for such an opportunity, Amber has a lot of connections as well, but he is looking at you as you’re making purchases, curious what you got yourself. The cashier is making eyes at you, but who wouldn’t?

“It’s at a huge venue for the rockfest coming up! They said they’d love to have you, but you will have to come meet them so we can register and prep. Are you down this afternoon?” Choso pauses, he’d promised you the day together, you both had wanted to do the mall, food and hit the movies.

But the rockfest is huge and the biggest event there is for discovering new rock bands, with heavy hitters everywhere. He’s absolutely sure Megumi and Yuji will lose their minds when he tells them. “That’s an insane opportunity, you don’t have to do all of this you know.”

“Of course I do, I believe in you. Also, I’d love to see you again.” Her voice drops a suggestive octave, you come out with a little smile now, standing next to him and poking around on your phone.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Can you shoot me a text with what time and where?”

“Sure thing, love. See you soon!” She hangs up now, and you frown a bit when Choso sighs.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, a hand on his arm.

“Good news, she actually got me a gig opportunity at the rockfest coming up next week.”

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” You hug him, giggling, god you feel good against him. “I can’t wait! Listen I just bought you a bunch of bracelets and rings, you need new ones.”

You hand him the little bag to open, full of far too many of them, making him melt from such a cute gesture, you always do this when you two go shopping. “No, don’t buy things for me!”

“They’re all cheap, silly.”

“But you didn’t get yourself anything.” He peers in the bag, you apparently decided against that skirt that would look so sexy on you. You usually don’t get yourself anything do you? You shrug a shoulder, smiling a bit.

“I’m good, Cho. I didn’t see anything that I needed. Um… ooh Spencers though, is that our next adventure? Oh my God, remember the adult section the first time we snuck in?” You ask, whispering conspiratorially, he laughs then, as the text pops up, and he sees he needs to be there in two hours.

“Shit, so the meeting is in two hours though.” You blink a bit.

“With your… blond friend?”

“Amber, yeah.”

“Amber.” You murmur. “Oh then… I guess get me home so you can get ready.” You start heading away, and Choso grabs your arm then.

“No, we can hit at least one more store!”

“No, you need to get dressed, get there… I definitely don’t want to delay a big opportunity for something-” His phone goes off again, and it’s a selfie of Amber, sticking her tongue out and in a bustier that hides nothing, saying she can’t wait to see him, and he watches your face fall as your eyes hit the screen.

“I don’t know why she’s sending selfies, it really is for the band I-”

“No need to explain. It’s cool.” You walk further, and he senses it, you’re upset, and what do you do when upset?

Run from him.

Choso catches up with you, his hand grabbing yours, and you stare at it for a moment, before looking back up at him, emotion making your eyes glassy, breaking his heart then, his chest feels like something is squeezing it, his throat closing up. But what you say and how you look at him don’t match, they don’t compute, and he doesn’t know how you feel.

“Come with me then! I would love it if you were there, and we can still spend the day.” He offers, but you gently pull your little hand out of his grip, walking out of the doors now, heading toward where he parked.

“No, it’s important shit. And she’d like you to herself I am sure, sounds… awkward I don’t know, spending time with you and her.” Choso runs to open the passenger door before you can touch the handle. “Thanks, Cho.”

The ride is quiet, far too fucking quiet, and when he puts a hand on your thigh over the denim, you just stare out the window quietly. There’s music playing but all he can hear is his heart racing, worrying he’s messed something up again, worrying about you and your feelings, confused and feeling like he just doesn’t know what the fuck he’s really doing.

“Am I fucking up our friendship?” He asks, and you look at him then, hand coming on top of his, exhaling.

“No, never. I’m sorry, I’ve been a little in my head.” He nods, looking at the road, feeling your fingers brush his knuckles, he nears your home which is spo close by, he’s been here a million times, it’s like clockwork to go there.

“We can always talk, you know.” He says, you just nod a bit, putting on a fake smile, he knows it’s fake, because that genuine one you just had at the mall has now completely vanished.

“It’s just in my head I think, my… thoughts.” After some more quiet, you both pull up. He tilts his head, leaning close as you unsnap your seatbelt.

“I’m always here. I’ll make it up to you, we can go out tonight to grab a bite to eat you think?”

“I’m sure she’ll want to. Don’t worry.” Your face is tight, your voice quiet,

“But I want to spend time with you. I miss you.”

“Cho, we just spent time…”

“I miss you.” He says again, you falter, when he leans close, cupping your face in his big tattooed hand, thumb brushing on your jaw.

“You want a good luck blowjob huh.” You tease, but your words are serious, he can feel them.

“A good luck kiss, only if you want to.” He murmurs, eyeing your plump lower lip, glossy as you run your tongue across them.

“You wanna kiss me?” He wants to laugh at that, how the fuck do you think he doesn’t always want to kiss you? Not just during sex, during any moment. “Thought it was just when we want to fuck.”

“Well do you even want to kiss me?”

“Of course I do.” You rest your forehead against his, leaning close, your noses just barely touching. “I’m aching for you.”

“Then why the distance?” His eyes lock on yours, pulling back, trying to study your beautiful face for some clue.

“I just thought I was being too much, and how you left things…”

“I’m sorry, I was being an ass. Edging your perfect pussy that way.” You exhale, leaning further, as his hand slips up your thigh, gripping your ass, pulling you further towards him, you let out this sexy little cry. “Let me make it up to you tonight, please… I’ll make you feel so good.”

“If we kiss and don’t… aren’t we breaking a rule?” You ask, and he wonders at these idiotic rules, were they so he didn’t fall for you?

They were failing.

“A prelude to tonight then.”

“You can kiss Amber though.” He scowls now. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, I’d love to kiss you, I love your lips, that tongue ring.” Your little fingers drift across them. “But just being honest, especially after that picture, she’s pretty hot you know.”

Choso glares more, tilting your chin up to look at him, as the car softly hums and he’s pressing you against him as much as he can in his little car. “I asked if I could get a kiss from you. You. Not her.”

You lean up, brushing your lips against his gently, pulling back and then leaning in again, another sweet brush, that destroys him then, his mind turns to complete mush as he feels the sensation of your lips. He exhales, dragging you onto his lap before he can think better, hands cupping your face and kissing over and over, as you press against his lap.

“Fuck you taste so good.” He murmurs, sweet like some sort of cherries, you whine out now, straddling him in tight jeans, your heat pressing against his clothed cock, making his cock strain from just that.

“Cho…” You whimper now, rolling your hips, kissing him messier, more desperate now, tongue all sloppy as you play with his hair with teasing fingers. Choso’s hands find purchase against the nip at your waist, pressing into your ribcage and earning a little sigh of pleasure when he gently presses you down more. “Mnh.”

“Lemme get you off, please.” You shake your head, taking a breath and leaning back.

“It’s fine, I’m fine- ah!” Choso’s grinding you against him, tip of him pressing against your folds, watching your eyes roll back, hair falling like a curtain as your back arches, he slides up your shirt, revealing a black lacy bra over your perfect tits, he begins to lavish your nipples one by one.

“Pretty titties… perfect little angel.” He watches you melt, your hands enwrapping in his long hair he wore loose today, manicured nails barely pressing against his scalp, just like when he’d drunk your juices out of your pussy last week.

“Please.” Is all you manage to whisper, Choso eagerly grinds you more against him, your breath catching, hot sticky wetness gathering on your panties when his fingers slip under the waistband of your jeans, he groans as he feels you. “Please, Cho… need you.”

“I need you to cum for me.” He presses his thumb on your clit, feeling your damn and sticky underwear, your slick drooling, he watches as your eyes dilate, and you keep grinding on his hard cock, that’s desperate to slide inside you.

His phone rings as you’re kissing him again, and he goes to turn it off on his car screen, only for Amber’s voice to ring out in the car, making you halt. “Cho, did you get the address love?”

You freeze now, he watches everything shift as you do, you quickly hop off his lap, zipping yourself up with shaky hands. “Yes I have it, Amber I’m busy-”

“You’re not busy.” You whisper, and Choso’s mouth drops open when you rush out of the car, he gets out and follows you right to your porch, you turn and shake your head with a fake smile. “Go, Cho. Tell me how it goes.”

“Will you stop running!? All the time!” He grabs your shoulders, and you can still hear her voice from the car, looking at it and then back at him.

“You’re confusing me. You say one thing and do another.”

“What!? What do you even mean?”

“You’re clearly very close, love, getting damn near naked pics, calling you three times in a row, then calling again?”

Choso scowls now. “And you and Gojo?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t talked to him since you edged me last week, I thought you were mad, I thought you… wanted me… to…”

You’re tearing up now, breaking Choso into pieces as he watches you, so fragile. He tries to cup your face but you push him away, sniffling now. “Please, please don’t cry, just talk to me. I thought you were still talking to him?”

“No! Because I thought you were wanting to be more. But I’m a fucking idiot oh my god. I’m just some fun distraction.”

“What do you mean, I thought you wanted just friends? You-”

“And we will be just friends. I won’t do that again.” You swipe at your eyes, and Choso’s heart breaks as it beats even.

“You’re always confusing me-”

“No, no it’s you who is confusing this. Acting like you think I’m so beautiful, making me feel that way, special. You shouldn’t do that to casual fucks.”

“You are beautiful, so beautiful god why can’t you see this? You are special, more special than almost anyone in my life. I don’t know how you think you’re not. Fuck this let me push this off-”

“No. It’s important. Even if I’m upset I’d never put your music off.” You take a shaky breath, kissing his cheek. “Amber’s upset. Go, and good luck.”

“Please, angel-” You shut the door quickly, rushing in your home, Choso’s hand is pressed on the door, leaning his head on it. “Please, let me in, let me talk to you. You’re wrong, I swear you are.”

You say nothing, Choso tries to knock, feeling emotions catch in his throat, but you say nothing, he can faintly hear a cry from there, pushing him to feel even worse. You weren’t even talking to Gojo!? And here he was, he’s been texting and calling Amber this entire time, but you…

“Please. Just talk to me, or I won’t go.” You open the door, tears streaking your cheeks.

“You’re being petty.”

“Yeah, I am.” He swipes the emotion from his eyes.

“Go, I want you to, I’m f-fine. I just… I thought we… just go.” Choso steps in, cupping your face again, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks. “Don’t do that, don’t look like that at me. We are only friends.”

Choso scoffs now. “I want you to cum on my face, on my cock, I want you moaning and writhing under me.” He presses you against the doorway, feels your desire with your every breath, but you shake your head, pushing on him.

“It hurts too much. I thought I could, but I can’t separate it. It’s too much for me, the desire… the feelings.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Choso blinks in surprise. Could you possibly have some feelings for him!? Was it more than… “Feelings?”

“Cho, go. I’ll be fine.” You kiss his cheek now, how you used to, Choso gulps down the emotions.

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m your friend. That’s it. We’ll do food and movies another day, yeah?” You gently push him out your door, smiling tremulously. “I think I’m PMSing, I don't know. I’m cool if you talk to her, fuck her whatever. Just tell me I guess.”

“Fuck her?”

“It’s cool, I swear. Go kill it, Cho bear.” You shut your door, he hears your lock click this time, your steps echoing.

He feels like a part of him is ripped in half in your absence, driving with no music, your sweet scent lingering in his car, your tears lingering in his mind. He had you in his lap, on his lips, isn't this what you both wanted, to have sex with no complications… but there are more and more complications every moment. And he left you there, to cry, sure you told him to leave, but this gnawing instinct makes him wish he had stayed.

Your POV

You see Cho and Amber on Instagram a couple hours later, with two huge Rockstars from popular bands that are running the show. You want to be so happy for him, and sure you are, but his hand on Amber's waist makes you ill, the way her hand is on his chest!? You can't stomach it.

You keep checking, wondering if Choso would message you. Call you. But the only messages are from Utahime and Satoru Gojo, who you've ignored ALL fucking week, waiting on Cho to make a move, only for him to have been clearly talking to this girl very regularly.

Sweet Cho Bear may be great as a friend and superb at fucking, but he seems to be the worst thing that could have happened to your mind. The way he so casually hurts you and puts you second is damn near debilitating, you’re tired of crying in your bed over him, when he was once the one who would comfort you, who would hold you while you cried over a boy.

Now Cho is that boy, and you're a whole idiot. You still can’t even process exactly what it is you’re feeling, was it just how good Choso made you feel? Is that all this was, a confusion from lack of experience, and his stupidly good skills? Or is it the moment you kiss him, and want nothing more than to lose yourself in him, when you feel his heartbeat against you…

When you call Utahime back on Facetime, she gasps when she sees you in tears. “Was it Gojo? Imma kill him.”

“No, no… it’s Cho.”

“Choso, what’d that sweet boy do!?”

“Ugh.” You take a breath, setting Utahime down on your dresser, deciding to start putting on makeup to hide your tired eyes and tear streaked face. “He’s got this girl, Amber, I saw them kiss.”

“Shit… but you all are friends with benefits not…”

“Yeah, I know. But ‘Hime, I felt so special, the way he looks at me.” You’re sniffling, and then you peek at Amber’s IG, poking around, jaw setting when on her Instagram she’s kissing Choso’s cheek. “Look at this.”

You send it to her, Utahime’s eyes narrow. “Okay no, that’s… I thought he didn’t wanna date? Wasn’t that the point?”

“Right, nothing serious. But she called him four times in one outing, fuck she came through the car bluetooth and cockblocked me.”

“Shit. Babe maybe no more sex, before you ruin your friendship, I’d hate you two not being friends.”

“I know, I know. I told him no more, I don’t think he got it though, he seems to say one thing and do another, and I’m just tired. And as for Gojo, I blew him off all week because I misread what Choso meant.”

“Well it’s still fuck Gojo till it’s backwards- and I don’t mean actually fuck him.” You snort.

“You just hate him.”

“Sure do.”

“But I’m feeling petty, and horny. And mad as fuck. Am I immature?” Utahime sighs.

“You and Choso both are naive little babies I think. Have you tried telling him how you feel?”

“He doesn’t feel that way, clearly. Look.” You send another pic now, one that Choso and Amber are tagged in, with the group of people preparing press for the show, Choso looks so fucking good, despite the girl clinging to him.

“Ah. Babe if you fuck Gojo I’ll come smack you I know this hurts but…”

“I’m not gonna fuck him, ‘Hime. Just maybe hang out and take an Insta pic and post it.” She smirks as you do.

“You petty ass bitch.”

“Bitch!”

“Fine. You have my blessing to be petty, but no dick.”

“Yes mommy.” You feel so much better, sighing. “Come see me when you get in tomorrow, please!”

“I will. Love you.” You disconnect the phone, peering at it to see if Choso has said any fucking thing to you, but you imagine he’s busy. He posts about the event, tagging Yuji and Megumi.

Nice to know the support you’ve always given him isn’t shit compared to a new pretty fan with connections. You yank off his band shirt, throwing it across the room, when Satoru’s text comes in.

Jock Gojo- you can’t stay angry at me I’m too pretty.

You find yourself giggling, rolling your eyes.

You- I’m not even angry, just had a lot on my mind.

Jock Gojo- Let me fuck your brains out then?

You- Nvm fuck you actually.

Jock Gojo- You’re punishing me :’( for being a dick on prom.

You snap off your bra, giggling a bit when he calls.

“What’s up?” You ask, popping him on speaker.

“Thinking about this mean girl, she was a nerd goodie goodie. She has a really nice ass…”

“Stop it!” You burst out laughing, slipping off your jeans now.

“Whatchya wearing?”

“Just panties right now.” You hear him exhale.

“You’re trying to kill me.” The flattery is getting you, especially feeling so damn inadequate with Choso right now.

“I am sorry I blew you off, it wasn’t you though. Do you wanna… I don’t know, catch up?” You’re digging through your closet now, tilting your head as you peer at the bevy of dresses you’ve bought for when you were with Ino.

“I’d love that. Are you free tonight? We can grab something to eat, see a movie… I dunno whatever you want. You can suck my dick in the theater!?” You snort again at him, rolling your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru. But… yeah I’m down to go out. A movie doesn’t sound bad at all.” That’s what you and Choso were supposed to do, see the new Star Wars movie that’s out.

“It’s a date then. Wear something easy-access.”

“Oh whatever, you’re so dumb.” He laughs softly, the sound is always pleasing, Satoru’s voice is pleasing altogether with its deep timbre. “What time?”

“Well what movies are out?”

“Star Wars!”

“Nerdy ass. Fine.” You giggle now.

“I was supposed to go with Cho but he’s… got this girl and also a whole gig going for the band. We can see something else though?”

“I don’t mind. Alright I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Sure.” You both hang up, you keep looking through your wardrobe until you come upon a cute plaid skirt, similar to what Choso wanted you to buy, but this hit mid thigh versus exposing all of your ass.

The thoughts make your cheeks heat up, then your tummy clench, how he’d just been kissing you, touching you. For him, you suppose, he truly could be a friend with benefits, but you fail at it completely, and though you certainly don’t plan on fucking Gojo, you’re curious at things.

Could you feel good with someone else?

“Hey sweets… I need all this candy.” You and Satoru are checking into the movie, his hand resting at your waist.

“They overprice the candy!”

“I’m rich, I don’t care.” Satoru buys a copious amount of candy and then two giant slushies, amusing the fuck out of you.

“Is one for me?” You ask teasingly.

“No way.” He hands you a slushie and you have to admit you feel a little giddy and excited, which is lovely after feeling so down earlier. Satoru is basically a big damn kid and his energy is infectious. You’re shoving thoughts of Choso way down when Satoru nudges you as you all walk toward the theater.

You take a sip of your slushie, looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Your friend, yeah?” You blink and see him then, holding hands with her, in line to check in for a movie at the opposite side of the theater.

So…

Choso blew you off, didn’t see a movie with you and is instead with Amber, and isn’t even seeing Star Wars!??!

“Hey buddy!”

“Satoru no…” You hiss but he’s waving with a box of candy. Choso looks at him curiously, then at you, his jaw tensing, Amber bounces over, looking at Satoru and then you with a pretty grin.

“Oh damn, I guess I don’t have to worry about you, dating this hottie.” She clings to Choso and winks at Satoru, you feel sick to your fucking stomach, the one gulp of that drink you took making you want to now vomit.

“We’re not dating yet, she’s mean to me. And she’s a nerd and was dying to see Star Wars. You now pew pew pew.” Satoru starts acting like his candy is a lightsaber, you’d be laughing if you didn’t wanna punch your own friend in the face.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Choso asks, and you shrug, stepping aside and touching Satoru on the shoulder gently, earning Choso’s anger directed right at you.

“Be back?”

“Sure thing.” Satoru says.

Choso and you step aside just a bit, laugh without humor. “You’re not even seeing it? Even if you didn’t wanna go with me, you are seriously missing it altogether?” You ask quietly, and Choso shakes his head quickly, glaring over at Gojo.

“You said you didn’t want to go out tonight, remember? I wanted to go with you after.” His words are soft, as Satoru and Amber start giggling about something.

“Because it’d apparently be me as a third wheel. Damn.” You scoff, and Choso steps up to you closer, his violet eyes glossy with worry.

“I thought you were done with-”

“Yeah the Instagram pictures made me realize maybe I need to move on from whatever the fuck this is.” You hiss the words quietly, Choso steps back, hurt clear on his face.

“I wrote you.”

“You didn’t-”

“I did!”

You pull out your phone, seeing his several texts now, but you were so mad you put him on mute. You gulp, scrolling through as he repeatedly asks you out to eat, as he asks if you’re home, as he asks if you’re upset with him. You see sad emojis and heart emojis and ‘angel’ please messages, making you feel a pit in your stomach, but where had these been all day?

“Ah, well I didn’t see, but whatever. Have fun.” You turn to step away, and Choso gently touches your hand.

“You’re mad when you’re here with him?” He asks, and it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him.

“I blew him off a week for some dumb idea that maybe you wanted to date.” You whisper, and he blinks, opening his mouth, but you hold up your hand. “This was a huge mistake, though you’re a great friend, I can’t just fuck you, I felt too much.”

“You think I don’t feel things for you? You think you aren’t in my mind?” He leans low, and you step back to breathe.

“If we want to stay friends we can never do it again.” Choso’s eyes get wide, you watch his lip tremble just slightly.

“Do you not want me anymore?” He asks, and you shake your head, disbelieving he can’t notice what he does to you when he’s touching you.

“I wanted you too much. I was stupid, not you, you’re great at it, at sex… at being unaffected, nonchalant. At doing your thing. I am the one that couldn’t do it. So we should forget it all, every bit.” You hate the words spilling from your lips, but you know they’re necessary.

“Forget it?” You nod now, trembling as you stand there, your heart pounding out of your damn chest. “How can I forget you in that way, your taste, your lips on mine… your body? How your back arches as I’m making you cum?”

His words make your mind flit with images, you shake your head, shutting your eyes and pushing them away as much as you can. God just with words he fucked you up. “You’d had to forget it when you and Amber fuck anyway, so work on it.” Choso gasps softly, his handsome face falling.

“So it meant nothing.” Choso’s words are broken, but it’s just not fair to say it like that, it’s not fair to do this to your heart, you know him and have known him, so you know it’s not intentional. But it doesn’t make it hurt less.

“It meant too much.” You step away then, putting on a little smile, walking back to Gojo and putting your arm in his as you look at Amber, who’s clinging to Choso when he walks back up. “I hope you guys have fun, can’t wait for the concert.”

“You should bring him!” She pokes at Gojo with a giggle.

“I think I will.” Choso glares at you, the look of fucking death, and you get some small satisfaction that you shouldn’t.

You’re done being dickmatized by your best friend, you’re done falling for him so fast and so hard, you’re done with all the feelings that have been driving you since Senior year of high school pooling at once. When he’d let you know so casually he was in love with Yuki, and if he’d wanted you all this time, why did he never make a move?

“Sounds good man I love to see ya play.” Satoru is so unbothered, you wish you could have a teeny bit of that yourself.

“Appreciate it. Have fun, angel.” He says to you now, right in front of both of them in a soft tone, you catch his eyes and feel every emotion, you feel the weight of such simple words, like he’s claiming you his, like he’s telling you so much more without saying it truly.

“Have fun Cho bear.” You say with a bright smile, so fake, and you can tell he knows it’s fake by his frown, but Amber is tugging him away.

“So… he was the fuck buddy.”

“Satoru!” You smack at him, he just smirks, shaking his head.

“It’s obvious.”

You sigh, handing the usher your tickets as you and Choso walk your separate ways, as you always have you suppose, it was foolish to think so much would change from a couple of experiences. He was so in love with Yuki he was about to buy her a fucking ring, of course he was upset that night, and it had been you who brought it up, not him.

You caused this.

“I’m sorry maybe I should’ve told you?”

“Nah, we’re on date number two, and I told you I have regulars. Not that I’ve been with them all week.” You raise your brows in surprise, Satoru pops down in the theater, with big recliner seats, you both settle in and ease back.

“Oh? Actually, me either.” Satoru slurps on his drink, sticking out his tongue now and making you laugh softly as the lights dim.

“Blue! Like my balls after our date.”

“Oh god.” You shake your head, and you picture it, Choso next to you so fucking excited, the both of you have seen every single Star Wars movie absolutely ever, this was the first he’s missing.

You can’t even be mad at him, Amber is pretty, clingy and not in a friend zone like you. If you both were meant to be, wouldn’t you have by now? But your mind drifts to him, missing him though you’ve seen him all day, but it’s Satoru Gojo sitting next to you, annoyingly whispering every time a character pops up, asking who the hell any of them are.

But it’s not annoying then, it’s nice. You could be alone, and not with a handsome, tall white haired little shit, your first kiss. Satoru could have been your first everything, but of course you weren’t ready back then. He has a big hand on your bare thigh, thumb brushing against your skin in little circles, as he’s popping candy into his mouth, making you wonder at his metabolism.

“Who’s that!? Is that yoda?” You giggle quietly, leaning on him.

“Grogu. It’s like a baby yoda.”

“It’s cute! I want one.” You nod in agreement.

“So cute, right? He’s actually old though.”

“Explain, I’m so interested.” His fingers slide higher, making you tremble now, you take several breaths, as they dance against your skin, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Are you now?” You find yourself leaning against him, kissing a little trail up his cheek and ear, his fingertips press into the plush of your thigh as you do, that little shitty guilty feeling gnawing at even that.

And why?

You and Choso were friends and you yourself had said ‘no attachments, no emotions, no drama’ and couldn’t make it past three times fucking him (and two ridiculous times of him eating you out… fuck it makes you clench thinking of it) and you caught feelings. It’s pathetic that it happened so fast for you, but how could someone not fall for Choso Kamo? He certainly doesn’t even comprehend the effects he has on people.

“Mmm…” Satoru’s little breathy cry does something to you, as do his fingers brushing higher when you nip on his earlobe, before turning your eyes back to the movie and holding his hand. “Fuck.”

He leans to you now, kissing a trail up your neck, you all are not surrounded by anyone at all where you are and hidden mostly in the recliners, you let your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your neck, when his tongue laps out at your skin, and he’s slipping the hand up further. You’ve been edged twice this week, you can’t help but shift your hips closer.

Satoru kisses you lazy and sensually, biting your lower lip between his teeth, then lapping his tongue along it, cupping your face, you’re enjoying his kisses, the butterflies he stirs even after years. Satoru may have been an asshole back in high school, but he was a hell of a distraction right now, especially when he’s rubbing you over lacy panties.

“You’re gonna distract me from… the…” You’re trying to keep in your little cry, biting your lip when he presses on your clothed clit, finding you damp and sticky, he exhales against your ear now.

“You’re so wet, though. Need me to take care of you?” He asks, you tense then just a bit, but your body reacts, getting wetter and wetter with his practiced circles, he slips his fingers under them now, finding your bare pussy.

“Not saying so.” He laughs, kissing you again, you cry out ever so softly into his lips, hips rolling as his finger teases your entrance.

“She says so.” You lose yourself for a moment, before getting a bit of a clear head, realizing where you all are, he slips a finger inside your slick walls, you clench around the invasion of it, long and sinking deep. “Fuck you’re tight.”

“We shouldn’t here, though.” He pouts in the dark theater.

“You’re mean to her.” He sucks on his finger now, and the sight of Satoru’s pouty lips licking your arousal fucks you up, your brain short circuits for a minute. “You’re as sweet as these candies, fuck.”

“You do go on.” You kiss yourself off him now, before shifting your skirt down a bit, blushing in the darkness. “Okay I need a sec.”

“Gotta play with your pussy?”

“Shush!” You sneak past him, he’s grinning all handsome, and for a moment you think, fuck this is nice, and maybe you could forget this feeling for Choso.

Until you walk by him heading out of the bathroom.

You turn away, and he’s calling your name softly. “What?”

“Can we talk tonight, please?” He asks, standing just a little away from you, the theater is empty as everyone is nestled inside each show, just a person or two walking across.

“What’s there to talk about?” His dark brows lower.

“You really don’t ever want to again? To feel that again?” He cups your chin in his hand, tilting your gaze up to him, to your sweet best friend that currently makes your mind haywire.

“Of course I do. But it means more to me than it does to you.”

“How do you even know that? Have you asked me?”

“I can clearly see, each time we do something you have no problem being with another girl.”

“We haven’t-”

“It doesn’t matter. We won’t again, go enjoy your movie Cho bear.”

“I hurt you.” His words make you pause, you shake your head quickly. “I have hurt you, I can tell it. Written all over your beautiful fucking face.”

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m trying to get over you.” He blinks in confusion, you turn away and he follows you in the damn bathroom. “Choso, seriously, leave me the fuck alone.”

“Get over me? Get over what, being my friend?” You lean against the sink, looking at him exasperatedly.

“I’m still your friend. I always will be. It was a mistake, everything.” You hate that the tears are back.

“How was that a fucking mistake? Feeling you cum around my cock like that, drinking you up?” You whine pathetically when his hands are cupping your face, and he’s bent so low. “No way it’s normal to feel that.”

“So what, you’re saying I’m good in bed? Thanks Cho, so are you, but we can’t do it. I can’t hurt like this. Now go.”

“So you can be with Gojo?” You shove him then, you shove sweet ass Choso Kamo, your best friend, and he looks at you, shocked.

“So you can be with Amber. Funny, I couldn’t in years do shit like she could for your band. Good pick.” Choso steps back up, his hands now on your waist, big strong hands that you wonder at, how much could he throw you around if he tried, if he’d have more chances.

Hands that simultaneously drive you with need and drive you to insanity, god you wish you never knew how good it was. “I want you.”

“What, now that you see me with someone? All week you haven’t said or done shit. I’m not a game.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“You may not know it, but you are. And my mind is the fucking victim.” Choso slams his lips on yours now, not the sweet way he kisses, no it’s brutal, it’s so different, you cry out, clinging to him, before pulling back and gasping. “I said no more of this.”

“Say it, that you don’t want me to. That you don’t feel this.” You’re shaking now, as his hand comes over yours, your eyes shut with the overwhelming sensations he’s fucking you up with, the way his big hand entwines with yours, and now your lips are tingling from him.

“It hurts too much to see you with her.”

“What do you think it’s like for me?”

“It’ll ruin us if we do it again.” Choso rests his forehead on yours. “I wanted you to choose me, just once.”

“What!?” You step away then, finally able to breathe, rushing out. “You told me to go, I wrote you-”

“Just because I said to, doesn’t mean I meant it.” You watch the hurt and confusion, making you feel like shit. “I fucked up asking you to do this. Blame me, it wasn’t your desires or ideas. Please, have fun, and forget any of this.” You put a hand on his shoulder, hating when a tear falls.

But you can’t let him keep hurting you like this, building your hopes up just to shatter them the fuck down, even if he’s so sweet he doesn’t know, or doesn’t mean to do it. You have to pull back, even as he’s trying to pull you close, and you watch him bite his lower lip.

“Let’s both leave right now.” He says huskily, you shake your head.

“It’s a terrible idea. I’ll fall more.”

“Fall? You’re…”

“Forget it, please. I don’t want to lose you in my life, but if we go any further, I won’t be able to pull back.”

“What if I don’t want you to?” You inhale and exhale, before turning away and walking back into the theater, trying to forget the hurt look on his face.

It’s not much longer that you certainly forget that sad look on his face, when you’re walking out into the chilly night and Satoru throws an expensive jacket over your shoulders. When you see Choso in his car with his head tilted back, and you worry, is he devastated, have you made a terrible decision? What if he truly did feel things for you-

Then you see Amber pop her head up, giggling.

Oh.

She kisses Choso, he is presumably kissing his fucking cum off her lips, you feel your heart beat erratically, walking past with Satoru then, of course you have the shit luck that they parked right across from you all. Satoru comes to open the door when Choso’s eyes lock on yours, and his panicked face says everything you needed to know.

He never loved you, he never even cared, if so how could he so casually profess one thing while doing the absolute opposite? He rushes out of the car, and Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow a bit when he’s standing right in front of you, and you look down to see his pants unbuttoned just a bit.

You told him just friends, it appears he’s taken it seriously.

Were you some stepping stone for Choso’s hoe era?

“Your button.” You say softly, he hastily buttons it, and Satoru snorts now.

“Nice man, car blow job?”

“Can you shut the fuck up.” You glare, and Satoru’s chuckling, completely unbothered, Choso’s hands are clenching into fists.

“Gonna be mean to him? For what?”

“He left you at prom-”

“We were seventeen. It’s in the damn past. Your girl is pouting by the way, pay her some attention.” You say now, slipping into the car.

“I need to explain things to you.” He murmurs, leaning close, and you just sigh, shaking your head. “It’s not what you think, and you said just friends.”

“Yep. Just friends. Bye now, Cho bear.” You shut your door, Satoru puts an arm around you as he revs up the car, and you lean in, kissing him deeply.

“Mmm, I like petty you.” He teases, you snort, burying your face in his neck. “Can I get a car blow job too?”

“Oh drive, Gojo, jesus.” He’s laughing, pulling you against him as you all leave the parking lot, you could swear you feel his eyes on you, but you really are past fucking caring.

Maybe dick is really what you need to get over him?

Choso’s POV (A few minutes earlier)

“No, you shouldn’t…” Choso’s struggling to pull Amber off him, her mouth is latched on his neck, hand stroking his cock, visions of you flitting in his mind, of you telling him you don’t even want to be intimate again. That you made a mistake of being with him.

It makes him feel horrible, did he take advantage of you in some way!? He’s so clueless of these things, he’d tried to text you over and over before he agreed to go to this movie, and then when he saw you with Satoru!? Fuck it hurt, but he’s pushed you there, you were upset and he shouldn’t have left.

You say one thing and mean another, how can he read you, how can he understand you? How can he just go back to friendship, fuck you all were so dumb for this, completely underestimating what would be there. He kissed Amber once, and it was nothing like kissing you, her body against his and lips now are just no comparison, when he had your sweet lips.

Your moans.

Your breaths.

The way you…

Fuck now he’s thinking of your body, gorgeous, your smooth skin, every curve and line he wants to devour, all while Amber is stroking his cock. He knows you’re probably going to be with Gojo, have you already done things? He sees visions of Gojo fucking you, on your hands and knees maybe, your ass arched in the air, with his experience is he so much better?

Will you cum for him like you do Choso, will he get to drink up those juices from your perfect plump little pussy? Will he have you fingers gripping his hair, those blunt nails pressing against his scalp, your slick heat enwrapping him? Amber giggles since now Choso is completely hard, even though he’s upset, the thought of you like that makes him go insane with need.

To claim you, to make you his. But you want nothing to do with him, he’s fucked it all up somehow, and he truly doesn’t know how to make it right, how to say the words out loud that are eating him alive. How to say how much he’s falling for you, how amazing you are, how he dreams of you…

“Lemme take care of you, Choso.” Amber cooes, and Choso feels terrible, guilty as fuck, but why? You two aren’t together, now he doesn’t even get to kiss your perfect lips again. You don’t want to anymore, because of him.

You weren’t together, just friends you both said.

But you’re not just his friend.

Before he knows it, so lost in thought, Amber is undoing his pants, he pulls her hair now, earning her moan. “No, no! No, shit… sorry for pulling your hair, but… y-you can’t. Shouldn’t- mmm!”

Choso whines out and gasps when she takes his length in her mouth, swirling her tongue and humming. “Mmm, you’re fucking huge.”

“Please don’t do that, get up-ah.” She sucks so hard, he bucks up, his hand accidentally shoving her further by some stupid instinct, she’s bobbing up and down him, clearly an insane level of experience. Sucking him up like a vacuum, swallowing his cock whole down her throat, her long nails digging into his jeans, pressing against his thighs.

He leans his head back, he’s been as edged as you this week, and it does feel good, if you ignore the sinking in his stomach, when his eyes come to focus, and you’re by the car right across from him, Gojo’s jacket on your shoulder. You look right at him for a moment, and he panics, as Amber giggles, leaning up now.

“You’re the biggest guy I’ve sucked, fuck you’ll feel good in me.” Choso immediately zips up his pants, running out of the car, and when he sees you, he knows then.

Shoulders slumped down.

Eyes glossy and glittering.

Lips set in such a tense line.

He knows it, then, you won’t forgive this, in his desperation to explain, you have no care to hear, you’re so withdrawn he doesn’t even know if you’ll be his friend, and how could he blame you? Begging you to be with him, only for you to see something like that, and now you’re kissing Satoru right in front of him, knocking the wind out of his body.

He almost collapses as you drive away, numb and mindlessly going through the motions, you must think he is a liar, you must think you were right, he’d hurt you, truly hurt you. You’ve been his rock for so long, so important to him, so important to even his little brother, like family for so long, now he’s going to lose you, and now he know everything he’s losing.

Choso: Please, please it’s not what you think. Angel…

Read.

Choso: I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, it wasn’t what you think, and… I think of you. I think of you constantly, always.

Nothing.

Choso: Cuss me out, do something, say something. Please, I understand if you hate me forever, but this wasn’t intentional, and I’m confused, I don’t know what we are, I don’t know what to do.

Read, and nothing.

You read each single one and say nothing in response, Choso drops Amber off with a faint good bye, he doesn’t kiss her, he barely talks to her, she’s babbling away but his heart is being ripped from his chest. If you hadn’t already done things with Gojo, surely you would now, and what if he is so much better than Choso could be?

Rich, always so fucking popular, the head of the football team, good with ladies, fuck you fawned over him, when he had it so bad for you. You would doodle Satoru Gojo and you in wedding clothes as he’d sit at study sessions, and the fear of him pushed Choso even further to lose his mind and thoughts with Amber, but now even he doesn’t know if he can forgive himself.

Not for hurting you like this.

Choso: Please, I’ll do anything, just talk to me. Just… still be my best friend, even if I want you as so much more, I’ll take it, I’ll take just that again over none of you… please.

You don’t read it, your green dot is off line, seven minutes ago.

Choso sobs into his hands, sitting on his couch, thinking of the hurt on your pretty face when you saw it, fuck did you feel unwanted? When all he wants is you, but how could you know now? How could you know that he does, when you saw that.

Did you really feel like this ‘distraction’ or a game to him? You’re more than that, so much more. As he curls into a ball and sobs, he hates himself then, why can’t he know better, do better, why can’t he just know what’s right? You should hate him after this.

He’s losing you, and he never even really had you, not in the way he wants, he craves, he needs in his soul. After a long time, he falls asleep with streaks of tears drying on his cheeks, eyes heavy and reddened and sore. He is dreaming of you, snuggling next to him, heat on his leg, your smile so sleepy and cute. Your hair is a mess, and you’re in his tee shirt.

How can he lose you like this?

Your POV

“F-Fuck, Satoru!” You’re crying out as he’s pumping two stupidly long fingers deep in your pussy, and Satour’s moaning into your mouth, you’re literally on your front porch in the middle of the evening as he’s pressing you against your door, scissoring his fingers in and out. You’re clinging to him, he’s doing it so well your mind is shut, your eyes rolled back.

“Hear her, fuck… slutty pussy.” He huffs, grabbing you rough, he’s not delicate or careful like Cho, his grip on your thigh is bruising, your hands glide down his abdomen then, finding his cock over his pants, your phone is incessantly buzzing in your purse, you know it’s Choso, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please…” You whisper out.

“Please what, pretty little slut?” He murmurs, you should be offended but you’re not, you want more of it, to feel mindless, numb, good.

“Make me cum.” You’re hastily unlocking your door now, Satoru’s hands both press against your waist as you shut the door, and he has you picked up, effortlessly, your legs wrap around his hips as you all kiss, over and over.

“Bed?” He asks, you nod barely, pointing and he’s carrying you right to it, laying you down, somewhere Choso really has never been.

Fuck can’t you get him out of your head!?

You reach down between you both, stroking Satoru’s length, he’s long and curved, your thumb brushes on precum, earning his pink lips parted, a red flush on his porcelain skin. “I was missing all this?” He asks softly now, shoving up your shirt and revealing your tits that squish in his grip.

“Y-you were a dick.” You mumble, he chuckles, sucking on your nipple now, sliding panties down your thighs and rolling on your clit with his thumb until you’re dripping down his fingers.

“I still am a dick, baby, you’re just horny and mad.” He taunts, he’s somehow infuriatingly perceptive for an idiot.

“Just shut up, Satoru you talk too- ah!” Satoru’s got you flipped now, fucking obscene, dragging your pussy on his face, still in his fancy ass dress shirt, you’re still in a skirt and a top yanked down, his cock sprung in your face. “I haven’t…”

“No sixty nine?” He smacks your ass, and you tremble, bracing yourself on your arms as he drags his tongue between your folds. “Such a goodie goodie.”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” He laughs, breath tickling, so you suck him down your throat, he tastes good, his tongue is godly, but you just don’t feel that thing. You don’t feel whatever the fuck it was, and this proves it.

You shove it back as he shoves his cock in your mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and then shoving his two fingers in your cunt again, playing with you over and over, pumping in and out, you’re clenching them like a vise as he sucks your little clit in his mouth. You grind on him weakly, crying out around his length, hair falling against his thighs.

He has his pants and boxers still half way on, your hands cling to them as he’s relentless with his tongue, sucking all of your juices up as his fingers fuck your gummy little walls. He’s hitting every spot you have, grinning against you whenl you’re cumming on Satoru Gojo’s face.

He’s moaning as he smacks your ass, still fingering you. “There, fuck… if you keep… I’m…” Satoru cums then with a groan, pulsing deep in your throat, you swallow the salty and slightly bitter taste down, his hum on your clit making you cum as you do, shaking when you cum again and finally pull up, shutting your eyes.

What have you done? Just what Amber was doing to Choso, and out of what, jealousy, need? Are you any better?

Satoru exhales, tapping your hip, and you ease off him, nervously looking away. “I’m sorry I came quick, your throat…”

“No, no! It’s good. I came clearly.” He exhales, planting a kiss on your lips, his glittery eyes dilated. “That was…”

“Fucking awesome, sweets. If you give me a bit, we can actually fuck.” He teases, dragging you on his lap now, you giggle then, breathless.

“Not just yet, this was a lot more than I expected already. We don’t even date or whatever.”

“You worry too much. If it feels good just do it.” You contemplate his words, more seriously than he intended. “All right, I’m out then sweets.”

“No pussy you’re out?” You raise a brow, he grins.

“I have your pussy all over my face, so shut it.” He smacks your ass once more, hopping up and getting dressed, you start to realize what happened, it’s slowly sinking in more and more, when you walk him to the door and he winks.

“Try not to look so pleased, Satoru.” You say, he grins bigger, snatching up his coat and throwing it on his shoulders.

“Got you off enough, I should be pleased. Don’t ignore me for a week again, it makes me sad you know.” He pouts, you can’t help but sigh, he’s gorgeous, he’s talented and fuck that was good.

But…

It feels so impersonal?

“Am I like a booty call now?” You ask, trying to hide your anxiousness with him, he shrugs a shoulder.

“I don’t take them on dates, I have standards. But I don’t label, so chill.” He pats your head now, winking. “I’m like your revenge fuck.”

“Oh god.” You roll your eyes.

“Nighty night. Text me.”

“Good night Satoru.” Satoru literally hops and prances to the damn car, but you feel it, the emotions choking you already, where Choso had snuggled and kissed, or he had tried to- you’d stopped it- Satoru’s prancing to his door and zipping away, clearly he got some of what he wanted from you.

Is this who you are now?

You take a shower, resting your head on the wall, shutting your eyes as you see it, over and over, Choso and Amber in that car. But you told him you were done, you told him there was no sex anymore, so what was wrong with what either of you did? What was this feeling like hot fire pokers in your throat, this clutching and pulling at your heart?

Tearing you in two.

If you were just horny and edged, Satoru should have scratched every fucking itch you ever had, he’s perhaps more skilled than Choso at a woman’s body, you’re sure fucking him would be fun, and there’s just no feelings. He would have been a perfect friend with benefit, not Choso Kamo, the man that you look into his eyes and he sees you, truly sees you.

The man you want in bed with you, every night, you remember all those nights sleeping next to him on the couch, hearing his gentle breathing or little snores. And now you think you can’t even be his friend, it hurts too much, and you think it’s pushed you here to do this, something you would never, but the rejection from Ino stung and now Choso?

Drying up you see the twenty messages from him, each one hurting more and more as you read through them all, especially the last one, which is like a knife to your fucking heart.

Cho Bear: Please, I’ll do anything, just talk to me. Just… still be my best friend, even if I want you to be so much more, I’ll take it, I’ll take just that again over none of you… please.

That was an hour ago.

You can’t talk to him now, you can’t look at him now, after what you just did, the tears start falling from your face, it felt so empty and hollow, pure pleasure without those feelings. Without feeling like the most beautiful, important girl in the fucking world, without Choso’s sweet and sincere words. The way he’d held your face and just looked at you.

It was never just getting off with Choso, the moment he kissed you, you irrevocably fell for him, and now you feel nothing but despair.

How does doing something not ‘wrong’ feel this wrong.

You put the phone down, you can’t face him, you can’t call him, you’re still so upset with him and now with yourself. You find yourself curled in a ball on your bed, a bed Satoru Gojo had just been in, fuck it happened so fast too, and now you know it even more so.

You’re in love with Choso.

What have you done?

What has he done?What have you both done?

A/N- Yep. It's a mess, I am sure ya'll are as upset and mad as I am writing these two fking idiots, but it's a slow burn despite their immediate physical connection. I always enjoy your thoughts, how was this angst omg! This actually made me upset but remember I write happy endings <3

Taglist: @erencvlt @antisocialinlw @aquamarine001 @maskedpacific @mima0127 @yxnnu @lana18918 @bigbird789 @angellliqua @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @aldebrana @staygoldsquatchling02 @bts-psycho @lillycore @mysticalnightbeliever @wystriz @tokyolhtl @imabyssa @delicate-ray-of-sunshine @ivyvenus333 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sparklydeerface @10honeybee01 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lavender-hvze @angelcakkess @bellasworlds-stuff @pauliiis-stuff @mysouleaten @city-of-lovers @teddiiursula @flowerbbybananamilk

(tagging the rest in commentsss)

Chap Five

#choso jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #kamo choso #choso kamo x you #choso x y/n #choso x you #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #choso kamo x reader #jjk angst #choso angst #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk smut

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