whenever someone coos at nerd!euijoo's adorable naivety, you barely stop yourself from choking out a laugh. almost everyone thinks he’s the poster boy for innocence. honestly, can you blame them? pastel cardigan, round glasses and notebooks lined in perfect handwriting. he's a walking stereotype. but you know the truth — he gets hard just from sitting too close to you. your thighs brush, your voice whispers “good job” into his ear and boom! he has to shift in his seat and pretend he dropped his pen just to hide the (massive) tent forming.
you love teasing nerd!euijoo when he’s studying. he gets so focused when all you simply want is a little bit of your boyfriend's attention. so, fine. sue you if you lean over, pretend to read his scribbled notes and drag your fingers casually up his thigh. “y-you're distracting me,” he stutters pathetically. it's too late. he’s already losing the sentence he was going over. the paragraph could practically be in another language.
when you climb into nerd!euijoo's lap, straddling him mid-study session, glasses crooked and breath hitching, he tries extremely hard to speak coherently. “you shouldn’t— i’m trying to… god, that feels..." his words die, replaced by shaky inhales. he grips your hips like he’s afraid to break you, forehead pressed to your shoulder.
cums too fast when you first guide nerd!euijoo in. every. damn. time. he hides his face in your neck, mortified. “sorry—i just… fuck—been thinking about this all day.” you smile sinfully, cupping his gorgeous face and making him look at you, “then do it again, pretty boy.” and god, the way his eyes roll back at that is downright filthy.
nerd!euijoo groans into your mouth when you messily make out with him. he doesn't care if he's being loud because he wants you to know exactly how much he adores your perfect pussy. he pants apologies between thrusts that grow rougher with every second that passes, “i c-can’t slow down—feels too good—'m s-sorry...”
no, listen. you don't understand. nerd!euijoo needs you to feel good; he lives for the way you moan his name, but the moment you tug his hair, praise him—“fuck, euijoo, just like that”—he positively MELTS. hips snapping harder, soft whines spilling out uncontrollably.
eating you out on his knees, fingers gripping your legs, murmuring into your soft skin, “so sweet… how are you this sweet…” and best believe nerd!euijoo WILL rut against the bed like he’s the one being taken apart.
however, at the end of the day, nerd!euijoo treats you with the utmost care. he's beyond considerate, cleaning you up gently and thoroughly. dorky glasses back on, thumb stroking your cheek like you weren't stuffed full of his cock two minutes ago. he peppers your face with the tenderest kisses, shyly asking, “did i make you feel good? please tell me you felt good…”
because the truth about nerd!euijoo is that he only feels pleasure when you do.
i’ve just been thinking about how english and americans online expect everyone to know their literature and poetry, their ~classics~ when literally every other country in the world also has an incredible and interesting literary history that is probably more relevant to it’s own citizens, like i’m not saying you shouldn’t branch out to intl lit because i think everyone should but that includes english first language speakers who have never picked up a translated book in their lives
origamiaround
gracieabrams
prguitarman
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
titsay
