running with wolves @joojeans - Tumblr Blog

˚◞♡ ⃗ Not Like That

♡ Student!Euijoo x Student!Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You were only trying to help a nice stranger in a time of stress the best way you know how: a friendly sexual favor. But then you were friends (?). Then you were a mess. Now what?

♡ WC: 14k

♡ Content: dubcon!!, university au, reader doesn't do romance or feelings, reader preying on euijoo when he's vulnerable at the beginning omg </3, tame exhibitionism, oral (m. receiving), reader is a horny demon tbh, webcam sex, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering (f. receiving), an angsty orgasm, clit play, solo breast play, unprotected sex (be smart), creampie, reader does not pee after sex but you will 🫵🏻, cum play, pet names, dw the ending will not traumatize you, never proofread

♡ AN: this was once just six bullet points haunting me in my notes app all year

You won’t be late this time.

It’s not that you care about this book club meeting–definitely not that. It’s just that you’ve been late too many times and you’ve been told that if it happens one more, you’re booted.

You also don’t care about being in book club. It’s just that your parents will only keep paying your phone and car bill as long as you have extracurriculars. The whole networking and building your resume or whatever. You show up, they pay your bills.

Which leaves the money you rake in from your part time job at the corner smoke shop all to your every whim. Sure, your parents think you work at the coffee shop across the street, but why does it matter? It’s not like you’re smoking during work. You’re just working. Why should it matter whether you’re selling coffee and pastries or bongs and vape pens?

You chose book club for one simple reason: you think you can cheat it. Most of the other activities that you could choose would require more of you than you’re prepared to give. Sports? Way too active. Exhausting. Music? You don’t know a thing. You’d have to learn. Art? You’ve never even created something fridge-worthy.

But book club? Surely all you have to do is look up summaries of the book instead of reading it. Still more work than you’d like, but it has been working for you so far. You can’t exactly say that the other members respect you–they know exactly what’s going on. But no one has caused a ruckus over it and you’re not being graded, so all’s well. You show up, everyone including you pretend you actually care about the material, you go home.

You’re sliding into your seat right as the clock turns 7:00. A.M, by the way. That’s the one major downside to book club–it’s the only activity that meets this early in the morning. The rest of campus is silent until classes start at 8:00. The building doesn’t even officially open its doors until 8:00. Book club just has… special privilege, if you will.

You offer a smile to the two heads of the group and receive a forced half-smile back. Standard procedure.

It’s actually funny. The way your parents and everyone at school treats you, you’d think you were a “bad kid.” You don’t think you are, though. You get Bs. You do all of your actual class work, even if begrudgingly. You don’t cause problems in class. Really, the only thing that seems to rub people the wrong way is your authentic nature.

You wear what you want even if other people find it “too much.” You laugh loudly when you’re enjoying your life. You tell the truth even when people are looking for the comfort of a lie. You satiate your impulses–okay, that one might not be the best thing all the time. But, to you, it’s not the worst one either. Everyone has to have a weakness. You at least try to minimize the collateral damage. Most of the time.

You don’t really have friends in this group, per se, but you are charismatic, much to the dismay of people who take themselves too seriously. You’re able to chat with about half of the group in good spirits while the other half seethe internally that people would dare be nice to you when you’re not treating this book club with the respect it deserves.

It’s fascinating how much people pay attention to you when you’re not even seeking it.

The meeting drones on, just a buzz of noise around you as your eyes threaten to glaze over entirely. You suppress a handful of yawns because you’re polite. Luckily, you haven’t been asked to contribute so far today. Perhaps they know better than to pretend to that extent.

You glance at the clock. 7:25. You could’ve sworn it would say 7:45. At least.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re technically not supposed to do that. The meeting is only an hour long and, ideally, you should take care of any bathroom needs beforehand, they say, but no one stops you. You wander into the empty hallway expecting to just fuck around for a little bit and then come back in and pretend you never left.

Except the hallway isn’t empty.

You’re surprised to see one of the heads of the book club sitting on the ground, back against the wall, forearms resting on knees, forehead resting on forearms.

You know him–or at least of him. You’re not friends but he’s well-integrated into the campus culture. Not only is he one of the heads of book club, but you’ve seen him around a lot. He’s one of the go-to people that other students turn to when they have questions about literally anything. He knows all of the school’s goingson and he’s obnoxiously educated in seemingly every subject. To top it all off, he’s nice. Like genuinely nice. No fake shit. Just sincere care for every stranger he meets.

You think he really wouldn’t like you. Despite all of that care for everyone you were just thinking about.

Still, you’re curious. Why isn’t he inside? You vaguely remember seeing him walk out now that you think about it, but you assumed he was just going to grab something and would be right back. He looks… stressed? Upset?

You walk the few steps to the other side of the hallway and crouch in front of him. Your sneakers are quiet so he’s surprised when suddenly your voice is right there.

“Euijoo? That’s your name, right?”

His eyes are round as he lifts his head. He glances down each side of the hallway to see if he’s missing something, but no, it’s just the two of you here. And will be until 8:00. His gaze returns to you and he nods once. “Mm,” he affirms.

You can tell by the look on his face that he’s expecting you to need something from him. That always prepared to give someone the direction they need look. Even when he’s seemingly having a hard time himself. You feel for him.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm,” he nods again. A flicker of confusion passes through his eyes. Are you not talking to him because you need help with something?

You laugh softly, comforting. “Are you sure? It’s not like you to be sitting out here at 7:30 on a Tuesday.”

A small smile attempts to form on his lips but he chews it away. “You talk like you know me.” His tone isn’t aggressive, just cautious.

“I may not know you, but I know that every Tuesday from 7:00 to 8:00 a.m., you’re standing in the room just across the hall. Yapping.” You hope your playfulness is evident. You don’t want to insult him accidentally.

Thankfully, he breathes out a single laugh.

“And if I know anything about you, it’s that you’ll be sitting in that same classroom with notes you copied directly from sparknotes.”

You cock your head in pleasant surprise. “Touché.”

There’s a quiet moment of you two just looking at each other. Registering that this is a little weird–the two of you talking to each other for reasons that aren’t academically forced.

It’s then that you notice how pretty he is. He’s not attractive in the conventional Man way of being excessively muscular with a strong jaw–the type that way many young men want to be so badly. He’s beautiful. His eyes are kind and they sparkle. His bone structure is soft, non-threatening. His lips pout naturally. His hair is a little longer in the back, reaching the bottom of his neck in a framing hug.

You’re not sure you can think of anyone prettier.

“So what’s really going on?” You ask, not letting him pretend.

He’s quiet for a few moments. Probably deciding whether to confide in you or not. Honestly, he doesn’t have any reason to see you as a trustworthy confidant.

Which makes it feel all the better when he finally does speak.

“I’m just… stressed.”

Exactly the answer you were expecting. You can work with that.

“About?”

He sighs, rubbing his face with his palm. “I have an important exam this afternoon. I’ve studied all night but I still feel like I’m going to bomb it.”

An incredulous laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “You do know you’re you, right? You are what the curve is based on.”

He seems to be surprised, eyes rounding further. You continue. “What even is ‘bombing’ to you? Getting an A instead of a perfect score?” You gently nudge his knee so he knows you’re actually encouraging him instead of teasing.

He smiles, eyes briefly looking down at your hand before looking back at you. “Ha ha,” he says. “I know I have a reputation for doing well, but I really am stressed about it.” The smile falls off his face. “It actually doesn’t help that everyone always expects me to do well.”

Well, fuck. Now you feel bad. You didn’t mean to add to the pressure. Time to remedy it.

“Okay, so what would help?”

He glitches for a second. It appears he’s not used to being the one offered help.

“What?” He laughs nervously. “Oh, I don’t know. I wasn’t asking for help. You just asked–”

“I know you didn’t ask. I’m offering.”

He looks nervous now. You’re used to this. You have a tendency to say things simply and directly and for whatever reason, most people aren’t used to that.

Unfortunately for you, he looks very cute when he’s nervous. His eyes are impossibly rounder and his lips are parted. His arms cross over his chest defensively, but he doesn’t look intimidating. Just guarded.

“I don’t–I don’t need anything. Thanks, though.”

You chew the inside of your cheek. He’s cute. His nervousness is only making him more endearing to you. You can feel your lack of impulse control about to show its head.

“I didn’t ask what you needed. I asked what would help.” Your gaze drops to his lips then slides further, looking over as much of him as you can see when he’s folded up like this. Your hands curve over the tops of his knees and your eyes find his again. “I can make a suggestion, if you’d like.”

Being the smart man he is, he notices all of this. His face is basically half his eyes at this point. “What–” He’s not sure if he wants to ask so he doesn’t finish.

You grin, sly. “I know it’s a bit quick, but.” You click your tongue, glancing over your shoulder at the door before looking back at him. “I know a few methods of stress relief that could really help. There’s science to it, you know. We just don’t really have time to pretend like we don’t know what I’m saying.”

He knows exactly what you’re insinuating. He stands up, looking down at you like you’ve said something crazy. And maybe you have.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but that’s not–”

“It’s not what?” You look up at him with a predatory smile. The little hedonistic demon that lives inside you has taken the reins. You try not to be distracted by the glare of his belt buckle as you lightly rest your hands on the sides of his thighs. You won’t actually make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but you definitely plan on making it hard for him to resist. “You don’t think it would help?” You bat your lashes at him, faux innocence.

He stutters, stumbling back a bit. But he doesn’t walk away from you or push your hands off of him. You notice that. He’s glancing down both sides of the hallway again, clearly concerned about someone seeing this. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s not. It’s helpful.” You persuade. “If you’re worried about anyone finding out, they won’t.” You don’t make any more moves. You don’t want to spook him. You want him to cave, but you don’t want to force it.

He looks back at you, confusion etched on his face. “That’s not– I don’t care about anyone knowing– I just don’t want them to see–” He can’t seem to finish a sentence.

And yet, he’s given you a glimpse into his thought process. He has hand delivered you an in.

You hum your acknowledgment, playing a comforting role for him when he’s clearly tense. “So you don’t want anyone to see–that’s it.” You experimentally stroke the outsides of his thighs, not venturing too far in any direction. “They won’t, Euijoo. Not if we’re quick.”

You considered offering to go back to his place for peace of mind but you don’t really have time for that and, if you’re honest with yourself, part of you is worried that he’d surely talk himself out of it in the time it takes to get there. You don’t know if his apartment is on campus like yours. He could even live in the dorms, for all you know.

He’s fully leaning against the wall now, his hands bracing where the wall curves to meet the window. He’s looking at you with fear in his eyes, but there’s also a visible sense of intrigue. You’d guess he doesn’t do things like this often. You’d guess he might be a little excited at the prospect of doing something he “shouldn’t” for once.

You notice an evident straining against the crotch of his jeans that makes you guess you’d be right.

“Euijoo, if you don’t tell me not to, I’m going to unbuckle your belt right now.”

He sucks in a deep breath but doesn’t say or do anything. You only see his fingers flex against the wall. He’s still looking at you. He’s not stopping you. You let enough seconds pass to count on all ten fingers and decide you’ve let enough time pass for him to refuse.

So you unbuckle his belt. Your fingers find it easily, working it open delicately so as not to overwhelm him. For the sake of time and efficiency, you just let it dangle loosely instead of pulling it out of the loops like you’d like to. Your fingers move to the button of his jeans, eyes still on him, communicating an ongoing you can stop me anytime. He just bites his lip and lets you pop it free, watches as you pull the zipper down.

“This is really stupid,” he says, eyes closing as if bracing himself.

“Just watch the door,” you purr, guiding him gently through the absurdity.

He exhales a shaky breath and opens his eyes, breathing out a single, disbelieving laugh. Like he has accepted this fully. His eyes train themselves on the door like you told him, but you think it’s more for self preservation than obedience.

Doesn’t matter.

You brush the hem of his sweater upwards, latching one hand around his bare side. Your eyes are glittering at the sight of his pretty stomach–his enviable waist–kissing the skin lightly as your other hand pulls his cock from his boxers. He’s already throbbing. You smirk against his belly button. You knew you were right. He’s excited at the prospect of not being the perfect boy for once.

“Just relax.”

You give his cock a few slow strokes as you kiss the head, eyes glancing towards the door before refocusing on Euijoo. His lids are already getting heavy as he stares unfocused at the door. He shifts his weight–impatience, not anxiety. Good. You don’t have time to waste anyway.

You feel Euijoo tense as you lick up the underside of his cock, wrapping your lips around the tip when you reach it. “Oh my god,” Euijoo exhales, his hand twitching against the wall like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. You can feel your underwear sticking to you–something about seeing someone of this caliber giving in to you. It’s empowering and so fucking arousing.

You try to build your pace gradually, but the time crunch doesn’t allow you to toy with him as much as you’d like, so you’re moving up and down his length steadily, hands wrapped around his sinful waist. You can’t seem to let go of it. You watch as his self preservation quickly dies, eyes closing completely and head falling back against the window. He’s restaining himself, naturally, but every soft moan that escapes sounds so desperate and grateful that you’re almost pissed you won’t be able to fuck him after this.

You try to keep track of what you imagine the time is, but who are you kidding when you have the prettiest boy alive in your mouth? You can only try to finish him off quickly. His hips jerk forward on their own when you hollow your cheeks around him, tongue lashing at his sensitive head each time you reach it. His hand finally breaks free from the wall, resting against the back of your head. Not pushing, grounding. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You know what that means. He’s going to come and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

You hum around him. Fuck, he’s so adorable. So hot it makes you dizzy.

You don’t instruct him verbally, not wanting to take your mouth off him for even a second. Instead, you keep working him with eager suction, holding your head all the way down for longer bursts, encouraging him to come, silently promising you’ll swallow it and leave no evidence behind.

And he does, legs trembling from the sheer intensity of it. He claps his free hand over his mouth to muffle the moan, face just about parallel to the ceiling from how far he’s leaning his head back. He floods your tongue with warm come, fingers flexing in your hair as he does his best not to pull.

You swallow every bit, as promised.

It takes him a few deep breaths to come back down to earth. He looks down at you, awe settling in his eyes as you so casually make sure his dick is nice and clean before tucking it back into his pants.

Is this not also crazy to you? (No.)

You wink at him.

He smiles nervously again, but it feels a little different this time. Like maybe you two aren’t strangers anymore.

“Was that… okay?” He asks, genuine.

You can’t help but laugh, fingers fastening his belt. “I practically baited you into letting me do that and you’re asking if I’m okay?” You smile up at him and stand, ruffling his hair. “Yes, Euijoo. I’m more than okay.”

His smile grows, looking down and away to avoid your gaze momentarily as he’s feeling shy. His gaze returns to yours quickly though. “I feel like I should say thank you but that’s a bit…”

You laugh. He’s funnier than you thought. Less awkward than you thought.

You hear the familiar sound of shuffling in the classroom behind you–the sound of everyone packing their bags at the end of the book club meeting. Euijoo’s eyes dart towards the door momentarily. You can see his thoughts in his eyes: oh no they’re coming followed by everyone’s going to see followed by no she already took care of everything followed by relief.

You smile, genuinely and frustratingly fond. “No, you definitely do not need to thank me.” You turn his focus back to you with the guidance of your hand under his chin. “Just do well on that exam you were so worried about. This should help.” You lean in and kiss his cheek, not missing the way his eyelashes flutter at the unexpected affection.

Even you are surprised by it. You don’t usually feel much affection for your victims.

No need for addressing it, though. The other students are pushing their way out of the classroom now, funneling down the hallway towards their dorms or their apartments or their classes. You give Euijoo one last smile and wink before doing the same, making your way to your dreaded history lecture with a palpable heartbeat between your legs.

♡

You didn’t think you and Euijoo would ever speak again. Not because of any negative feelings, but just because there wouldn’t really be a reason to speak again. He might even feel embarrassed or nervous around you now, for all you knew. He did something out of character and might want to pretend it never happened. That would be fine by you. You’d still have the mouthwatering memory.

Much to your surprise, though, Euijoo was never interested in doing that. The very next week, he called you over to him when you stepped inside room 209 for book club. You were halfway expecting him to plead with you not to tell anyone about what happened, but all he did was tell you to sit next to him. It wasn’t a question and, considering he’s co-head of the club, you were somewhat obligated to obey–not that you would have objected to sharing the same space with a darling piece of eye candy.

Surprising you further, he made the gathering much more bearable. You’d joke with each other in whispers. You’d write silly notes in each other’s notebooks. He’d even sneak solid answers to upcoming questions to you so you wouldn’t have to bullshit your way through it as much.

Maybe you should have given him more credit.

Now, you’re… friends?

It’s been a month since you entrapped him but he never took the release you offered him afterwards. You sit together during book club. He’ll text to ask if you need help with any of your classes. He sometimes walks you to history, attracting the curious gaze of other students that wouldn’t expect to see the two of you together.

It’s been peculiarly nice.

It’s not something you’d usually like. You’re not a heartless girl, but you don’t usually care for your sexual conquests trying to weave their way into your life. Nothing is more annoying than being followed around or spam texted because someone can’t stop thinking about you when you’ve already mostly forgotten about them. You’re not interested in romance at this point in your life. You just like a heaping glob of pleasure alongside your individual journey of self improvement.

Work. Graduate. Find a better job. Work more. Then you’ll see if you care to be distracted by romance. If anyone is even deserving of you.

You think it’s different with Euijoo because he’s not trying to acquire you. It doesn’t really feel like he’s trying to do anything. He has never once tried to ask you on a date. He has never once tried to suggest a repeat of what happened in that hallway. If anything, he’s adding to your life by being someone that helps you in your self improvement mission, always eager to help you with your studies. Not as an excuse to get you alone.

It’s funny because you have plenty of friends. The concept of friendship is not foreign to you. You just have never experienced someone being able to be normal around you after you’ve hooked up.

You think Euijoo must be a really special person.

All that being said, there’s still a lot of tension whenever the two of you are together. It’s never verbalized or acted upon–only felt. Your interactions are entirely platonic yet the two of you seem to be wound up tight by the same thread. Being around him feels comfortable and effortless but your stomach is still twisted in the background.

You do everything in your power to ignore that. It would be natural for him to feel that way around you, but you don’t like that you might feel it too.

You’re not even sure why you might feel it. Yes, you’re irritatingly fond of him in a way you’re not accustomed to. But you don’t want to date him or anything. Surely, this all stems from the fact that you never got off when you hooked up. You made him come but you were left wanting. The unfinished business of it all has you confused. Usually, when you hook up with someone, your interest in them disappears afterwards. Because you finish it the right way, obviously. Because your curiosity is sated.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. The time for that has passed. You will simply have to keep yourself in check. Euijoo is doing a good job; you can too.

In an effort to keep things very platonic, you’ve decided to spend time with Euijoo doing something that a) isn’t sexy and b) doesn’t require you to be near each other: minecraft. You haven’t played much in the last few years, but Euijoo mentioned it once a few days ago and you thought it would be perfect for maintaining low heat. You offered to play with him and he lit up before your very eyes. Ugh.

You settle into your computer chair, one leg pulled up into it and open discord, putting on your headset. You agreed on 9:00 p.m and it’s currently 8:59. Knowing Euijoo, he will be perfectly on time.

You smile when he’s calling you just moments after the clock changes to 9:00. Predictable in the best way.

“Hi,” you singsong into your mic.

“Hey,” Euijoo says, smile evident in his voice.

“How was class today?” It’s a Thursday. The only days you’re guaranteed to see him are Tuesdays.

“Eh, fine,” he says, uninterested. You’re not particularly interested in talking about school either, so that’s good. “I just finished eating so I’m all yours for the next few hours.”

Don’t you dare smile at that.

“I should be so lucky,” you tease. “The campus busybody made time for me?”

You can still hear the smile. You can swear it’s grown. “You know I would and will.” A pause to let the words sink in. “I already invited you to the server.”

You’re grateful for the task of finding and accepting the invite so you don’t have time to think about how he can manage to make you feel special. How he can talk so smoothly like this sometimes and other times be a blubbering mess of nerves.

You load into the game with Euijoo, relieved that you spawn near a meadow biome, a few sheep visible in the distance. You’re off to a good start.

For about an hour and a half, you have such a nice time that you don’t realize that much time has passed. Both of you had beds in the first fifteen minutes. You built an ugly dirt starter house while Euijoo caught a bunch of fish. You killed a creeper lurking near Euijoo’s mini wheat farm and Euijoo tamed a cat for each of you. You explored a cave together in search of iron and diamonds.

That’s where you were when your computer froze.

It’s extremely annoying but not uncommon. Your computer is old and probably needs a bunch of updates you either don’t know about or are too lazy to make time for. It doesn’t cause you many issues for simple things like writing papers, but trying to run games is always a risk.

You sigh and collapse back into your chair, apologizing to Euijoo. You think your computer needs some time to cool off and you’re not even sure it wouldn’t just freeze again anyway, so you’re in no rush to boot the game back up. You tell him he can keep playing, but he says he doesn’t want to play on the server without you.

So, not wanting to just be forced to stop hanging out, you improvise.

“Let’s turn our cameras on then. It’ll be just like we’re hanging out in your apartment.”

Euijoo hesitates briefly but agrees. You each turn on your cameras and, for some reason, you hadn’t really thought through what the both of you might look like right now. You realize that when you see Euijoo.

He looks good. You can only see each other from the waist up, but he’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and a simple silver chain. His hair is messy beneath his headset like he didn’t expect to be seen during this little hang.

Your attire is similar in the sense that you are also wearing a t-shirt. It just so happens that that’s all you’re wearing.

To be fair, you are wearing panties. And the shirt you’re wearing is very much oversized so it’s not unlike a dress. Euijoo can’t see anything inappropriate. You don’t even think he can really tell what you’re wearing because his face doesn’t reflect any sort of reaction.

“Hi,” you say with a smile and wave.

“Hey,” Euijoo replies with a smile of his own. Just like earlier. Rinse and repeat.

“Nice hair.”

Euijoo’s eyes glance in the direction of his own camera feed on his monitor, hands plucking at the messy strands. He laughs. “Does it look that bad?”

“No,” you say without hesitation. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” The expression on his face says that he doesn’t know if he likes that word or not.

“Yeah.” You can’t take your eyes off of him. “You’re cute.”

He’s grinning, rolling his eyes. “You’re just teasing me.”

“I’m not,” you refute. “But I can be.”

Here you fucking go.

Euijoo raises a brow, deciding whether or not he should just ignore that. What if it’s a test? is what his face is saying now.

“What is that supposed to mean, y/n?” He’s testing you back.

“What do you want it to mean?” You’re twirling a pen from your desk between your hands.

Euijoo is looking at you like you’re a handful because you are. A handful that he likes. “No, I want to know what you meant.”

You don’t answer right away. You’re trying like hell to stop yourself from pushing this into more-than-friendly territory, but fuck, you want to see where this goes. You still want to know what you can pull out of him even though you’re supposed to have closed and locked that door a month ago.

You roll your chair back enough until he can see you fully. You still have one leg up in your chair, making it easy to see that you’re wearing a shirt with no bottoms to speak of. Your legs are still closed at the thighs, so he can’t see your panties or anything more, but the knowledge is surely enough.

Euijoo’s eyes drop at the same time his jaw does, lips parted just enough to make you crave them.

“Y/n—“ He shifts in his chair. “You don’t have to do that—show me that.”

You laugh but your heart warms too. He’s considerate of you when others would immediately jump to take advantage of the opportunity you’re offering them. “Show you what? My body?” You let the silence linger for a few seconds. “What if I want to?”

You watch his adam’s apple move down, up, swallowing. “Then…”

He pushes his chair back too. He’s dressed—black track pants with the white stripe down the side. There’s nothing in particular that he’s showing you here, but the gesture is sweet.

“See? Cute.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk that you want to kiss off of his face. “Am I always cute?”

You nod, smirking too. “Yep. Obnoxiously cute.”

He sits back comfortably, hands resting on his stomach, elbows on the arms of his chair. “Is cute your type?”

An interesting question. It should make you shut down, worry that he’s about to become like everyone else—like he’s only a few sentences away from trying to claim you. Right now, it doesn’t. But that could just be because you’re not thinking with your head right now. “Do you want to be my type?”

He cocks his head slightly, a small crooked smile. “I’m just asking.”

He’s good at playing whatever game this is.

Your tongue pushes into your cheek as you consider how to answer. “Right now, you seem a little less cute.”

His brows furrow but he doesn’t falter much. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you laugh, finding him cute again. “It’s just when you speak confidently like that—when you know exactly how to respond to me—I don’t see you as cute.” Pause. “It’s sexy.”

He nods, humming his understanding. His cheeks flush just a tinge, but he doesn’t lose himself in his fluster. “My words have always been my strong suit.” His tongue glides over his teeth as he thinks. “Should I keep talking?”

That heartbeat is back between your thighs.

You chew the inside of your cheek, the urge to jump through the screen and into his lap infecting your entire body. You shake your head, lowering your leg from the chair to hang loosely next to the other. “No. You should just look at me.”

Before he can even try to piece together what you’re getting at, you hook your finger beneath the hem of your shirt, pulling up slowly. You watch as understanding flashes through his eyes and they follow your finger, licking his lips once he sees a peek of bubblegum pink lace.

“Aren’t they cute?”

He scoffs, eyes glued in place. “Cute?” He looks towards your eyes through the camera and back down. “Yeah. They’re cute.”

“I want to show you more. Is that okay?”

His eyes are back up, making eye contact with you as much as possible through this digital medium. He nods.

Three other fingers join your index beneath your shirt, giving yourself more control as you pull it up further. You move it slowly, loving the way you can see his eyes follow it–above your panties, above your belly button, stopping for a few seconds when you reach the undersides of your breasts. He’s not saying a word. You pull it above your breasts, letting it rest there with your hand still holding it.

Suddenly both sides of the call seem to be void of sound.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, finally, a rasp present in his voice that wasn’t there a minute ago.

Why do you feel so fucking shy when he says that? You’ve heard it all before.

“Yeah?” Your own voice is different, softer.

He makes virtual eye contact with you. “Yeah.” There is only certainty on his face. “Look at you.”

You feel something inside you stammer. Your heart or your stomach, you’re not sure. You quietly clear your throat, trying to regain the control that is usually yours with ease. You plaster your usual playful smile back onto your face.

“I want to see you too.”

Euijoo doesn’t move or say anything, probably thinking.

“Just your waist,” you add, softening the request so he doesn’t just shut everything down altogether.

His head cocks again, surprise in his eyes and satisfaction in the smile on his lips.

“My waist?” A soft rumble of laughter. “Interesting request.”

You narrow your eyes, enjoying the banter. “Are you going to let me see or not?”

Euijoo chews his bottom lip for a few moments before pulling his shirt off completely, letting it drop to the floor next to his chair. Neither of you say anything but your eyes are active, soaking him in.

The silver chain looks even better next to the gorgeous color of his skin. His torso is expertly crafted to make your mouth water–lean with that small waist, yet solid. His pants are resting low enough on his hips that you can start to remember what’s beneath.

“Fuck, Euijoo,” you groan, half whisper. You’re looking all over him, eyes stopping, glittering, when you see what you think is a twitch in his pants. You find his eyes. “Do you like me looking at you like this?”

His hand is resting near the waistband of his pants. His thumb brushes back and forth over the fabric. “I think–yeah.” He’s flushing but fighting through it. “I like looking at you too.”

The tension is so thick you might suffocate.

You shift in your chair, your humid panties insisting on your attention. “You’re so fucking pretty, did you know that?”

His eyes become gentler under your praise. You can practically see the strained breath come from his parted lips. Your fingertips slide over your collarbones and down to your nipple, gently toying with it. Euijoo’s fingertips curl against his waistband.

“You can touch yourself,” you purr. “I know you want to.”

Euijoo looks like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but only for a moment. He smiles awkwardly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Shouldn’t we focus on you this time?” Even as he says it, the heel of his palm is brushing over the front of his pants–a mind of its own.

Ugh, this guy.

You laugh, tweaking your nipple for both of your pleasure. “Who says that’s not for me?”

He smiles and scolds you gently. “You know what I mean, y/n.”

You smirk, shrugging. “Can’t a girl like to watch?” Euijoo adjusts, sitting further down in his chair, legs spread further as if trying to let himself breathe.

“As much as you know I like the sound of that…” He scolds you with his eyes this time, pretty lips still smiling. “I don’t want to do anything unless you do it with me.” The pulsing between your thighs accelerates. “I want you to feel good too.”

Honestly, you were probably going to touch yourself anyway if you were watching him, but his insistence makes you even more excited to do so.

“Okay.” Your free hand skates down the front of your body, fingering the waistband of your panties. “I’ll do that then.” Your hand slips beneath your panties, taking its time to actually touch. You glance down to make sure Euijoo can see the movements of your fingers through the fabric before looking back at him. You finally make contact with your slick cunt, your hips involuntarily rolling against your hand, a soft hiss leaving your lips.

Apparently toying with this beautiful man makes you very sensitive.

“Oh,” he mumbles, dick twitching visibly in his pants. “Fuck.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him swear before. It sounds good on him.

“You should feel,” you start, watching as he rubs himself through his pants. He makes his way inside them. “I’m so wet, Euijoo.”

His head falls against the back of his chair when you say this, frustrated that he isn’t finding out for himself. “Y/n,” he groans. “You’re evil.” His hand is moving steadily in his pants now, a haze of lust clouding his eyes.

You’re smirking, tracing shapes that look a lot like the letters of Euijoo’s name on your tender clit. “What?” Your middle finger dives between your lips and you moan softly, Euijoo’s hips bucking at the sound.

“I’ve never touched you even once,” he says, eyes closing, surely imagining it.

You close your eyes too, imagining with him. “Mm.” Your fingertip teases your entrance. “Makes you crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answers right away. “You’ve no idea.”

You open your eyes and his are already on you. He’s holding his waistband away from his body with one hand and stroking himself with the other.

There’s something coy and so fucking arousing about how neither of you make the effort to move your clothing out of the way. Like maybe if you can’t really see anything, it’s a secret. Maybe you can tell yourselves later nothing happened.

“Then tell me,” you encourage.

Euijoo’s face is flushed, but not from shyness this time. Pure arousal. He looks out of it.

“I’m–” He cuts himself off with a strained, hushed moan. “Fuck, y/n, I want to be inside you so bad.”

You feel your pupils dilate. You weren’t sure he had the nerve to say something so forward. Your finger sinks, sheathing itself in your warmth, eliciting an embarrassingly wanton moan. You’d usually hate to let a man see he can affect you to this extent but for some reason, with Euijoo, you don’t care. You want to feel him as much as he wants to feel you. “Euijoo,” you breathe, adding a second finger to the first.

“God, you’re immaculate,” he muses lowly, witnessing your pleasure as if it’s a gift especially for him. Your vision is blurring but you can vaguely make out the increased speed of his hand in his pants. “That’s it, beautiful. You feel good for me, mm? Just listen to me. We’ll get there together.”

You nod, breath heavy. Your fingers pull out of you, smearing your juices over your lips and your aching clit. “Okay,” you manage, barely audible.

This isn’t like you.

“Good,” Euijoo says, the pride in his voice hitting you right in the cunt. “Just slide your fingers inside for me, angel. Think about me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers curl their way inside you, pressing against that inner wall that always makes your eyes roll. You gasp, moan, writhe.

“So good, right?” You can hear how much Euijoo is trying to keep it together for you. “Keep moving them, pretty. In and out for me.” He exhales heavily. “It’s me. I’m taking care of you.”

He’s more than taking care of you. He’s making you lose your mind on camera.

You do as he says, fingers thrusting and hips chasing. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open and you can barely breathe. You’re not sure you’ve ever been like this. “Eui-jju,” you stutter, gasping for breath between moans. “I’m–”

“You’re gonna come,” he finishes for you. “I know, angel. You look so beautiful.” He groans, swears under his breath. “Me too. Let’s let it happen, yeah? Come with me, pretty.”

You force your eyes to stay open for this part, watching Euijoo’s arm flex as he pumps himself, watching his neck sheen with sweat. You watch each other like hawks, using each other to get yourselves to and over climax. Your breath syncs, his groans match your moans.

You come just moments before he does, him waiting for you. “Y/n, fuck,” he hisses as his hips fuck into his fist, covering it in his come.

God, you wish you could see. But there’s something to be said for the imagination in this case.

Both of your hands are covered in evidence of something you’ll both surely pretend never happened. The call is silent except for the labored breathing as you’re both melted into your respective chairs, staring at each other.

It takes a minute for your brains to start working again. Euijoo gets it together first.

“Hey,” he says, his lips a sentimental smile, voice soft. “When you’re ready, turn your computer back on. Let’s play a little more before we go.”

You laugh breathlessly. What?

You eye him but you know what’s happening. He doesn’t want to just hang up the call like that. Doesn’t want the next time you see each other to be weird. Doesn’t want you to feel used.

You nod and smile, lazily reaching for your computer with your foot. You press the power button, giving yourself another minute before you need to be a person with a brain again. “Fine, but we need to build a fence around your farm so I don’t have to babysit it from creepers.”

Euijoo laughs, clearly relieved that you don’t want things to be weird either.

“Fair.” He rolls his chair back closer to the camera. You see him reach for something off screen and you see a glimpse of tissue move past the bottom of his video feed. “But you’re also going to have to put your shirt back down so we can both focus.”

♡

You and Euijoo are definitely friends.

It has been four days since the surprise cam sex and nothing is weird. Actually, you’ve been even more comfortable with each other since.

You text each other frequently for no “real” reason other than to joke around or send each other stupid memes and videos. You engage with each other on social media. Neither of you has mentioned what happened–well, either thing that happened.

Granted, you haven’t been around each other in person again since the last… transgression.

But you will today.

It’s a Monday, so you wouldn’t normally see each other today, but your book club voted on a movie night last week and, seeing as Euijoo is co-head, he has to be there.

You don’t. It’s completely voluntary.

Yes, Euijoo asked you to come so it wouldn’t be as boring. That’s not why you’re going though. You’re going because Gone Girl won the vote and you love that movie. You haven’t seen it in a while and you could use a fresh viewing.

No other reason, of course.

Your phone dings on your dresser. You glance at it.

Euijoo (7:50 p.m.): You’re still coming, right?

You smile to yourself. He’s always early and you’d bet he’s getting worried that you’re going to bail.

Y/n (7:51 p.m): Yes. Unclench

You know he’s going to roll his eyes when he reads it but, seriously, relax dude. You’re just about ready anyway. You decide to french tuck your sweater into your jeans then step into your kitten heel booties. You slide your phone into your shoulder bag and head out. You have just enough time to walk to the common area of the humanities building where the movie will be screened.

When you get there, it looks a lot more inviting than you had imagined. You thought it would be the members stuffing themselves into the random chairs and desks that are normally placed here during the day. Instead, most of those chairs and desks have been cleared out and a handful of sofas have been arranged in their place. There are beanbags and pillows littered on the floor as well. There’s more than enough room for everyone in this relatively small club.

Ah, right. This is put on partially by Euijoo, the most thoughtful person alive apparently.

Speak of the devil. Angel?

Euijoo spots you from next to the projector and points to one of the sofas near the outer edge of the space. He’s too busy talking to someone that’s helping him set everything up to say hi, but he wants you to know where to sit.

Taking the lead. Okay, you like that. It suits him.

You smile at him as you sit on the center cushion like he told you, smile spreading when he can’t fight the smile on his own lips. He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds, still talking to whoever, but finally has to look away to finish up.

You watch him work. He’s moving heavy things, adjusting everything perfectly, delegating tasks. Weeks ago, this wouldn’t move you. You’d probably even think this nerd.

But now, it’s attractive. Maybe because of how well he handled you, you can appreciate how well he handles everything else. He has a lot more command than you ever would’ve given him credit for before you knew him.

After a few minutes and a brief greeting from the club heads, Euijoo finds his place next to you. He smiles down at you and you realize you’ve never been in such close position to him, thigh to thigh on a comfy couch.

“I like your sweater,” he says, toying with the loose knit sleeve.

“Thanks.” The lights dim and the movie starts playing, signaling the end of the conversation before you’re ready.

It’s actually really nice. You usually like to spend your free time finding more exciting things to get up to, but you’re not mad you’re here tonight. It’s a Monday, after all, so things don’t usually get crazy enough for you to be missing out on anything. A movie you like and a beautiful man pressed to your side is nothing to scoff at.

Euijoo has had his arms crossed over his chest the entire time. You don’t think it’s because he’s upset because he looks relaxed. You think it’s because he doesn’t know where to put his hand closest to you. Just the thought makes you chew your lip to keep from laughing. Always so cute.

You look up at him and he notices right away. He turns his head and angles it down, lifting his eyebrows in question. You shake your head and turn back to the movie, resting your head against his arm.

He doesn’t react nor move you. He allows you to use him as a pillow like it’s natural.

He finally moves himself after a little while, pulling the throw pillow that has been wedged between his body and the sofa into his lap. He lets his arms rest on it, careful not to disturb your comfort.

The person on the other side of the couch next to you—a guy you kind of know, Jake—asks you to pass a bottle of water to a girl you don’t know sitting on the floor near Euijoo. You have to reach over Euijoo to reach her and he visibly tenses.

What was that?

You sit back down but you’re still leaning forward slightly, looking at Euijoo with suspicion. The fuck? you mouth. He shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the movie, clearly avoiding eye contact.

You take a closer look at him, eyes everywhere, wondering if you missed something. You don’t even know what you’re looking for. Then it hits you.

You push your tongue into your cheek, amused. You grab the corner of the pillow in his lap and lift, meeting resistance. Bingo. He fights you on it a little bit but he can’t do much without causing a scene, so you win in the end. A stiff bulge in his jeans is your prize.

“Euijoo!” you whisper, scolding lightheartedly.

You’re genuinely shocked. You never would have thought he would be getting hard at a time when he’s technically working and surrounded by everyone that thinks he’s a God of some sort. You’d think that would be the last thing he would allow to happen.

You’re starting to think you accidentally Pavlov’d him into associating book club with arousal.

He rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. He doesn’t seem all that bothered by his current predicament.

You leave the pillow in his lap. You don’t want to embarrass him. You’re thoroughly amused by how often he surprises you.

Then he surprises you more.

After just a few minutes, you feel his hand on yours. You pry your eyes from the movie and watch as he guides your hand under the pillow.

No fucking way.

Your eyes say exactly that as you look at him. He glares at you, a warning to not alert anyone else. His big palm over the outside of your hand, he moves them both down the front of his already open jeans.

Your mouth drops open, equal parts shock and sudden overwhelming arousal. You glance at the pillow and back at him, flexing your fingers over his boxers. He’s looking at you with lids low. “Please,” he mouths.

It must be killing him. As if you could say no.

Your tongue swipes over your lower lip and you sit back, turning your attention back to the movie. At least your visual attention. The rest of your attention is moving inside Euijoo’s boxers, wrapping around a warm cock. He tenses and relaxes, exhaling slowly in an effort to keep himself calm.

You like the weight of him in your hand. He’s long but not skinny and you have to stop thinking so much about that before you create your own problem.

You move your hand down his shaft in a slow stroke, gasping silently when you feel his head already leaking precum. How did he get like this? Did you actually Pavlov him? Is he remembering the video call? Is it just a coincidence and he just happens to be unbearably horny today?

You smear his precum around a little, covering his tip, craving a taste. You use it to help you work him with your fist, trying hard not to make your arm’s movements obvious. You’re forced to go slower and switch it up less than you’d like, but it doesn’t seem to hinder Euijoo’s pleasure. His lids are closing and he’s breathing shallowly next to you. You wouldn’t notice it if you were anyone else in the room, but you are hyper focused on him.

Your thumb brushes over the leaking slit and his hips almost jerk. He slides down carefully until he can whisper to you without much effort. “Why can’t I be normal around you?” is what he asks.

You could ask yourself the same question about him but you’d never admit it.

You laugh inaudibly, swiping the tip of his cock again before resuming your strokes. You can feel his breath warming the space between you now. He flexes his hips occasionally, seeking more friction the only way he knows how at this moment. It doesn’t take long for him to cough his way through a nearly-escaped moan as his come covers your hand.

His hand finds yours again, cleaning it with his boxers so carefully before pulling it out. Instead of letting it go, he laces his fingers with yours and rests your joined hands on top of your touching thighs. He isn’t trying to hide it. No one is necessarily looking, but if they did, they’d see, and he wouldn’t care. Apparently.

Everything in you is saying that you shouldn’t let this happen. You should snatch your hand back, be offended that he felt so entitled to something like that. But you can’t. His palm is warm. His hold is anchoring, comforting, fucking pleasant.

I mean, it would be, if you liked cutesy things like that.

Really, you just don’t want to upset him by pulling away, you tell yourself.

He turns your face towards his with his finger. “Y/n, I want to kiss you right now.” Pause. “Come to my apartment after,” he whispers. “Let me thank you.”

God, you want to. You still have never really experienced him. You’re practically vibrating at the possibility of being fully alone for the first time.

But you can’t. Going to his apartment now is too risky. You’re friends. You’re friends and now he’s holding your hand and wants to kiss you. If you go to his apartment, there are two possibilities and both of them are bad in the end. Either you go and end up staying the night afterwards and that ruins everything or you go and when it’s over, his feelings are hurt when you don’t stay and that ruins everything.

“Can’t,” you whisper back, expression blank. “I have plans.”

He looks disappointed. You don’t like that but you tell yourself it’s the lesser evil.

“Sure,” he says, concluding that you wouldn’t choose him over anything else.

You really don’t like that.

But you let him believe it.

You’ll make yourself believe it too.

♡

You’re still friends.

It’s been about a week and a half since Gone Girl Gate. Everything is… normal… with Euijoo still, but the tension that has always been there feels different now. Instead of being sexually charged, it’s something close to ache.

Euijoo pretends not to care when you talk about other guys around him and you pretend not to notice that he doesn’t like it.

Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice. The lines were blurring too easily before and you don’t want to confuse him. So you’ve been treating him the way you treat all your other friends—letting him in on your night prowling. You hate yourself for it but he never tells you to stop and you think if you do it enough, he’ll eventually be so turned off to you that you can be friends properly. Just friends. For real.

If you weren’t so stupid, it wouldn’t have gotten here in the first place. So you have to fix it. By force, if you must.

Euijoo is coming to your apartment tonight, actually. Not for any funny business but to help you study. You’ve fallen behind due to being so wrapped up in your personal life (read: Euijoo Chronicles). You do need his help for once.

He’ll be here shortly and you’re doing what you have to to be prepared for it—having phone sex with a hot sophomore you met last weekend. You’re not particularly interested in him. You just need to make sure you’re thinking clearly when you have Euijoo alone in your room. Best to get yourself off now so you’re not like a starved woman when he comes walking in.

You’re close, your juices leaking from your fingers onto the towel you placed beneath you for easy cleanup. Your back arches off the headboard, your shorts restricting your movement at your ankles. The sophomore is going on and on about bending you over his dresser, but you’re not really listening to him anymore. You’re just riding your pleasure, hurdling yourself towards that peak you need to fall on the other side of. You’re mumbling back to him mindlessly, knowing he’s more than happy to hear himself talk and to hear you moan for him. And you are, without restraint.

Your door opens.

“Hey, your roommate said you were already in here so—“

Dead silence. You must look mortified to Euijoo.

Of fucking course. Why didn’t you consider that he’s always early?

He looks shocked for a second but his jaw settles, hardens.

You don’t know what to do. You’re frozen. You don’t think telling the sophomore that someone just walked in is a good idea so you keep quiet, letting your bent legs fall in on each other for some semblance of modesty.

Euijoo’s tongue pokes into his cheek, irritated. He closes the door behind him and casually drops his bag to the floor next to the doorframe. “Go on. Don’t let me stop you.”

A deer caught in headlights, you proceed cautiously. You feel trapped. You don’t know if he’s testing you or what he’s even telling you to continue doing. The phone call? Touching yourself? Both?

You’re not touching yourself anymore. You’re responding with “mhm” and “yeah” to the sophomore who is way too horny to realize you’re just waiting for him to finish so he can hang up.

Euijoo sucks his teeth. He moves towards you and you shrink down the headboard, not knowing what to expect. He’s never even spoken to you harshly, but you never know. You never expected to provoke him to this extent.

He invites himself onto your bed, your eyes wide when he continues to move until he’s hovering over you. You’re trying to make sense of everything but his hand is already pushing your thighs back open, his fingers finding your clit as if he’s done it a million times before. You gasp, the sophomore delighted on the other end of the phone when he assumes it’s because of something he said.

Your wrist is limp, barely holding the phone. Euijoo is so close, his breath in your face and his forehead pressed against yours. He’s just watching your face, coating his fingers in your slick before pushing two of them inside. You moan loud enough to surprise yourself, your free hand grabbing at Euijoo’s shirt for grounding.

He doesn’t reveal anything with his face. You have no idea what he’s thinking. He just fucks you with his fingers, increasing his pace until you’re shaking beneath him, pulling desperately at his shirt. When he feels that knot inside you about to snap, he kisses you—hard. He swallows your ecstasy, muting it, keeping it for himself. He kisses you until you’re twitching from sensitivity and removes his fingers from you.

He pulls back and looks at you, still unreadable. He glances in the direction of your bathroom, noting that it’s there. He looks back down at you. “That’s what you wanted, right?” He sounds angry but he’s eerily calm.

You don’t answer. He pries your phone from your hand and ends the call before tossing it to the side of your bed. “Pull your shorts up and get out your textbooks.” He excuses himself to your bathroom without another word, leaving you panting and so fucking confused.

♡

Honestly, you don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. When Euijoo came back from the bathroom that night, he was different. Calm, still kind, but harder. Impenetrable.

He hasn’t been that smiley boy you’re used to. He doesn’t get nervous around you anymore. You still sit together at book club but there’s less to talk about. There are less silly things to text each other.

You stopped talking about anything personal for fear that you’d somehow make him hate you.

In any other circumstance, you would just distance yourself from him completely, but that doesn’t feel right. You feel like you fucked everything up. You don’t get to just abandon him too. You have to lie in the bed you’ve made.

It’s been a long month.

You’ve been trying to come up with anything that will get you both on the same page. Little things that would nudge him in the direction of remembering that you have fun together—platonic fun. Big gestures that would convey to him how regretful you are for making a mess of everything. You just can’t seem to enact any of them because you’re terrified of unexpected blowback.

You’ll have a small break from that tonight. One of the frats is having a rager somewhere off campus and it’s supposed to be so obnoxiously overstimulating that you can’t possibly think about anything.

It’s exactly what you need.

Better: it’s not Euijoo’s scene, so you can make a mess of whatever you want and not have to explain yourself to him.

You load into one of your girlfriend’s cars five deep. You’re all carbon copies of each other tonight—skirts and dresses that are much too short, tops that are cut way too low, and intentions that are far too indecent. That’s what parties like this are for.

You take selfies in the backseat on the ride over, making the most of how good slutty looks on you. Short denim skirt. Black lace bralette. Cropped leather jacket. Black boots with chains. Actually, this is more covered up than some other things you’ve worn. Slutty chic.

You can hear the party before you can see it. The music is so loud that it’s vibrating everything that comes into contact with the building. It’s the perfect atmosphere for mindless behavior. You can’t wait to be inside, replacing yourself with a predatory animal.

You’re wound up tight. You haven’t hooked up with anyone since Euijoo made you come on your bed. You can barely believe it yourself because, normally, you’d have to be restrained to keep yourself from finding your way into someone’s pants, but the fear of Euijoo finding out has kept you from fulfilling that urge.

It’s fucking ridiculous, actually. You shouldn’t be changing your behaviors for a friend. You shouldn’t have friends that are so sensitive. You shouldn’t give a fuck if it upsets him to hear about you doing something you have every right to do.

So, tonight, you’ll sate yourself fully. You’ll stop watering yourself down for someone you didn’t even know a handful of months ago.

You can feel the eyes on you as you enter the hot and humid pool of bodies. It’s not that people are really noticing everyone that’s coming in–it’s much too packed in here for that–but let’s just say that there are plenty of people here that always have their eyes peeled for you. Past flames that would kill for a repeat, if that was something you did.

It’s not. No exceptions.

Still, they’re trying to get your attention, smiling at you, nodding you over, holding out their drinks like offerings.

Still, you’re not interested.

You gloss over all the familiar faces, busying yourself with locating drinks for you and your girlfriends. You don’t usually stay together long, but you typically all make sure you have safe drinks before separating. It turns out that the muscled guy halfheartedly overseeing the drink station is one of your girlfriend’s playthings, so you’re able to easily secure a drink. Normally, you’d at least try to get one of your preferred drinks, but you don’t care enough to ask what she hands you tonight. Anything will do as long as it muzzles your godforsaken brain.

With a kiss on the cheek for each of your friends, you branch off on your own, prowling.

There’s a hot frat guy on the couch nursing a beer. Nah. There’s a sharply dressed business major standing near the ridiculously oversized speakers. Nope. A pretentious but attractive art major sitting on the floor with, surprise, other art majors. No. The list of options goes on and on but none of them are exciting you.

It’s because you’re so pent up. You need someone exquisite to break your accidental bout of celibacy with.

You spot someone standing against the wall in the corner and, finally, a tiny spark of hope blooms in your belly. He’s alone. He’s got a drink in one hand and a watch glistening on the wrist of the other. His sweater looks soft and well taken care of. He looks out of place.

That’s the one.

You slink up to him, delighted by how he seems surprised when you stand closer than he expects.

His name is Alex.

Alex is majoring in gender studies. He’s a self-described introvert, cat dad, and plant dad.

Alex also can’t stop looking at your tits and he’s not even bothered to pretend he’s not doing exactly that.

Fascinating stuff.

You were kinda hoping he’d be more fun to wear down, but he was surprisingly ready to get his paws on you the second he got the chance.

Just like all the others. Yawn.

By the time he’s latched himself onto your neck, you’re bored. You don’t stop him because you came here to get fucked tonight and you’ll be damned if you don’t do exactly that. So you let it happen.

You’ll just find someone else that’s more interesting after for a round two if you’re still itching.

For now, your back is against the wall, Alex’s hand is on your ass, and he’s trying to suck himself into your skin with way too little suction to be effective. He’d assume your head is tilted back like that out of enjoyment, but you’re just going through the motions, waiting for him to do something that actually gets you going. You close your eyes in an attempt to forget who is touching you and lose yourself to the physical sensations.

You hear your name. It’s Euijoo and you’re going to give yourself mental lashings for hearing his voice when you’re supposed to be forgetting about him.

You hear it again. Clearer this time. Your brows furrow, your eyes blinking open.

And there he is.

You’re not imagining him.

He’s actually standing there. Backwards cap, hoodie, dark denim jacket, a sparkle of silver in each ear. You can’t see his lower half with this suddenly repulsive leech attached to you, but you don’t need to. You’re already salivating and you hate yourself for it.

He, of all people, should not be the one to finally strike your fancy tonight.

Alex’s hands move to your bare waist, none the wiser to Euijoo’s presence in his fog of lust. Your jaw clenches.

So you’re about to be the one in the wrong again even though you definitely had no fucking reason to believe that Euijoo would ever be here tonight. Even though you have no fucking reason to tiptoe around his “feelings,” if that’s what they are.

You simply raise your brow in challenge at Euijoo. Is this actually important or can I get back to what I’m obviously doing here?

Always the observant one, he manages to hear your unvocalized question. He rolls his eyes, jaw settling too.

“Excuse us,” he offhandedly says to Alex without even glancing at him. He reaches in front of Alex and pushes him off of you with his palm against his shoulder. Gentle, unprovocative. He grabs your wrist and hauls you off, dragging you around the corner and down a body littered corridor.

“What are you even doing here?” You spit.

He scoffs, doesn’t answer. You’re blinding with rage by the second and he’s pushing you into a bathroom.

Normally, you’d be thrilled. Especially when he looks so fucking good tonight.

But right now, you’re pissed that he’s once again the reason that you’re not doing what you want to be doing. You’re pissed that you’re not drunker right now because you thought you’d get to sip your drink while you worked on Alex but he was too fucking easy so you hardly drank at all. You’re staring at your reflection, arms crossed over your chest and fumes spouting from your head. Euijoo closes the door and stands behind you, finds your eyes in the mirror. You say nothing because you want no part in a lecture.

Euijoo’s jaw spasms visibly. “Don’t you know I actually like you?”

Your arms shift on each other. It’s a vulnerable thing to say. Your defenses start to lower despite you and you don’t like that because usually hearing that makes your walls climb to insurmountable heights. You puff your chest up to keep from folding. You say nothing.

“That’s why I’m here tonight. I was trying to forget about you. I thought I should try it your way for once, see what all the fuss is about.”

You almost swear at him. He sounds like a judgmental dick right now. Does he actually think that’s going to win him any favors?

“Except I know that’s a lie.”

Those words are the only thing that save him from a verbal ass-beating. Because huh?

“I know I actually came here hoping I would see you. I said I wanted to forget about you, but I must be a fucking masochist of some kind because the real reason I came here is because I knew you would be here. I know this is your scene. I knew I would probably see something I didn’t like. And I still fucking came because even if it was miserable, you’d be here.”

Your mouth goes dry. That’s not my fucking problem, your defenses say, but your words don’t come out nearly as harsh as you want them to.

“I don’t understand.”

Euijoo laughs humorlessly, nodding at you through the mirror. “Oh, believe me, I know. You never get it, do you?” He suddenly reaches a hand around you, pulling up your skirt roughly, jamming his hand between your thighs. Your legs falter in surprise, a gasp pushing out of your lips when his fingers press against your panties, rubbing them into your clit. “Right? You can only stomach me when it’s sex, right?”

You blink slowly, already overstimulated by the mixture of confusion, tension, anger, and arousal. Your hands grab the edge of the counter to steady yourself. “That’s not–” You can’t really argue with him, can you? That’s how you’ve treated him. “I was trying to keep it platonic. You know, after everything.”

Euijoo’s head leans down, his lips at your ear. “You know that’s not what I want,” he murmurs, sneaking his fingers beneath your panties to rub your clit properly.

You force yourself to swallow the moan that bubbles up your throat. “You can’t always have what you want.”

Euijoo hums, middle finger exploring the slick crevice that exposes your desire for him. “But you can, right? You get to have everything you want from me, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, struggling to think, irritated. “You’re the one that lets me.”

Euijoo laughs once. “It’s sick.” He sinks his finger into your cunt, fully enveloping it, making you moan. “You know I’d never refuse you anything, but you refuse me everything. Everything that doesn’t come with sex as part of the package.”

“If you’re so offended by it, then why are you doing this now?” Your voice is less steady than you’d like–weak.

“No, you tell me something.” His ring finger joins his middle, stretching you beautifully. Your head feels unstable and you feel Euijoo’s free hand cradle it. “I hear the way you talk about all your hook ups. You’ve been all too happy to tell me.” His thumb presses against your clit, rubs. “You never go back to any of them.” His fingers curl just right, find that spongy part inside you. “So what the fuck have you been doing with me?”

These are CIA level interrogation tactics. How the fuck can you think properly under these conditions?

The smart ones are the most deadly.

You try to steady your breathing. You should put a stop to all of this, but it feels too good.

“Fuck, Euijoo, I don’t know!” You hiss, hips chasing his hand despite your words. He’s still watching your face in the mirror, catching every tic that might tell him what you won’t.

Euijoo’s lips twitch at the corner, a smile starting to form.

“I think you do know, y/n,” he says, voice calmer. He lets go of your hand to wrap his hand under your chin, tilt it back until you’re looking up at him. He doesn’t let go, just presses his thumb harder against your clit, pupils dilating at the way your mouth opens in pleasure. “I think you like me too. You just don’t want to.”

You’re finding it hard to keep your eyes from rolling back when he’s overwhelming all of your senses like this–forcing the pleasure on you that you’ve been craving for the last month. You’re even having a hard time quipping back at him because all of a sudden, everything you could say would feel like a lie.

And if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s a liar.

“Euijoo,” you plead softly. Selfishly, you just want him to make you come without having to talk about all this. You can feel his cock hard as fucking steel against you and that’s where you’d rather spend your time.

“Tell me I’m wrong, y/n,” he says, grip tightening just enough for you to notice. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingers withdrawing from you, trying to keep him inside, but you’re unsuccessful. You feel his hand moving behind you but you can’t think too much about it when you’re supposed to have the perfect response to such a pointed demand from him.

“It’s not like that.” That’s what you manage. You’re an embarrassment to yourself.

“No? Then what’s it like, y/n?” His tone is messing with your head, like he’s babying you. You feel pressure against your pussy and it travels–up, down, repeat. “It’s different than with everyone else, but somehow the same?” His cockhead is teasing you, betting that he might get a real answer out of you if he tempts you with what you want.

He gets a moan, a fuck under your breath.

He lets go of your jaw to spin you around, crowding you against the counter, hands behind your thighs and helping you onto it. He pushes your skirt up and panties over with one hand, the other holding his cock, positioning it where you crave him. He wants you to look, wants you to need him so much you can’t even think about lying to him.

He watches your eyes flare with heat and pushes himself inside you with a breathless fuck of his own.

Your eyes roll back fully this time. You’ve thought about exactly this more times than you’d ever admit to anyone, including yourself. So much sexual chemistry and even activity with Euijoo but you’ve never had this.

“Fuck, finally,” he hisses, attempting to thrust shallowly but too consumed with finally having what you’ve both wanted to be disciplined enough.

“Yeah,” you breathe, hands curling harshly at the edge of the countertop.

Finally on the same page about something.

“You’re such a brat, you know,” Euijoo says with less venom than the words would imply. He’s thrusting deep, hands holding your legs up and open by the thighs.

“Shut up,” you say, high on him, head loosely held up.

“Just stop pretending that this isn’t different.” He punctuates his command with a sharp thrust, forcing a loud moan from you. He lets go of one leg to reach for the back of your head, holding his hand there as he leans in closer to you, lips hovering near yours. “We both know the truth.”

He molds his lips to yours and there’s no part of you that doesn’t want to kiss him back right now, so you mirror him, drinking him in. He groans into your mouth at your pliance, hips picking up speed when you don’t deny anything. When you reciprocate with your body what he says with his words.

Your hands find his waist, holding, pulling him deeper into you. He responds with harsher kisses, erratic thrusts that embody your shared desperation.

Your attempts at kissing each other grow more pitiful by the second until you’re just panting and moaning into each other’s mouths, trying to force yourselves impossibly closer to each other. You’ve both forgotten where you are, consumed only by each other.

Euijoo, please. You feel so good. Oh my god. Just like that, fuck. Ohmygodohmygod.

I know, angel. More, baby? You’re so fucking pretty. So perfect for me.

No effort is made to take it slow. Not when you’ve been silently craving each other like this. Not when you both know that one wrong move or word could potentially stop everything in its tracks before either of you want it to stop.

Euijoo is pounding into you like he might die if he doesn’t feel you come around him. You’re squeezing his cock like you were made to milk it. And when you do come, you come together–Euijoo makes sure of it.

The mutual sound of relief and bliss signifies the trance that you’ve entered together. Your bodies go weak at the release of so much tension, Euijoo’s weight resting on you as you fall back on the counter a bit. His hands snake under your back, holding your body against him even as you rest. You feel dizzy from exertion and emotional congestion, but you’re peaceful, holding his head against your chest.

You don’t have the ability to think clearly right now, but you know that you’ll have to eventually.

It doesn’t feel as daunting at this moment.

“You surprise me,” you say when you catch your breath.

Euijoo’s laughter rumbles quietly against your body. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You rest there in silence for a few minutes, just existing together, him still nestled inside you. Both undoubtedly thinking about answers to the same unanswered questions that can’t go unanswered forever.

When Euijoo finally straightens back up, he looks down at you. He threads his fingers with yours and smiles, pulling gently until you’re upright as well. “This is not exactly how this was supposed to go,” he says, chuckling. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. “Let’s go to my place. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.” His tone is playful, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t mean it.

You smirk, watching as he redresses himself, ready to press his buttons. “Fine, but only because I’m curious about what was supposed to happen.”

He rolls his eyes, brushes a kiss against your cheek. “You’re irritating.” He helps you down from the counter, makes sure your legs are steady enough to walk. Checks to make sure there’s not too much running down your legs before fixing your skirt.

Your hand is in his when you exit the bathroom, walk through and out the noisy building. Past all the people that know one or both of you. Past the car you came in with your girlfriends.

Your hand is in his while he drives you to his apartment–no protest this time.

♡

You still have no idea what’s going on.

But now, there’s a peace in that that wasn’t there before.

Now, it feels natural to walk into Euijoo’s bedroom together. It doesn’t feel suffocating like you thought it would. You don’t feel trapped like you thought you would.

He sits you on his bed and kneels next to it, taking your boots off for you. He takes your skirt off too, telling you to just be comfortable here. He tells you to lay down while he goes to get some water. You roll onto your stomach, grabbing one of his pillows and holding it to your chest, resting your head on it, eyes closing. You’re so comfortable right now, you almost can’t believe it. Maybe it’s the post-orgasm bliss, but you think more of it has to do with Euijoo.

You don’t even hear him when he comes back into the room–you feel him. More specifically, you feel the bed dip from his weight and you feel him on palms and knees over you. His hand travels down your spine and over your ass. You smile to yourself, humming a pleased acknowledgement of his presence.

You feel the elastic of your panties stretch slightly as he moves them to the side. His fingers are exploring the mess beneath, fingers gently fucking any leaking come back into you. There’s a possessiveness about it that should bother you, but it’s a turn on instead. His fingers are moving carefully like he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he wants you to be full of him. This fucking dreamboat.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he says softly, peppering your shoulder with featherlight kisses.

You’re quiet for a minute–careful. “I know,” you say.

He puts your panties back into place and treasures your body with his hands.

“I’m worried about it, a little bit,” you admit. “This isn’t the kind of thing I do. I’m bound to fuck it up horribly.”

Euijoo chuckles, moving his kisses up the back of your neck. “Yeah, you are.”

He moves next to you on the bed, turns you to look at him. “You’re a little insane,” he teases, pulling your body flush against his. “But I’m very patient.” He cups your face in his hand, brushes his lips against your forehead before pulling back to look at you with trusting eyes. “If you stop liking me, it’s okay. I won’t be mad. Just don’t stay away when you want to be here too. That’s all I ask.”

You nod, feeling an unfamiliar stinging in your throat and the back of your eyes. “Okay.”

Euijoo smiles when you don’t try to push back, thumb stroking your cheek. He pulls you into his chest, stroking the back of your hair. You notice that he’s changed into boxers and a t-shirt and you smile, appreciating that he’s comfortable with you too.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly happy with…whatever this is…” Euijoo starts experimentally, playfully. “But… are you my girlfriend now or…?”

You laugh, smacking his chest halfheartedly. You pull back to look at him, eyes narrowed, mouth agape. “You’re so greedy!”

He grins, accepting the accusation gracefully, hands raised in surrender. “Maybe, but that’s not an answer.” He eskimo kisses your nose and you can’t believe you let him.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Fine, yes, whatever.” You lay your head back on his chest, feeling awkward to even entertain being someone’s girlfriend. “But don’t push it.”

Euijoo is quiet for a few seconds, probably grinning from ear to ear. You can see his private celebration so vividly in your mind. “You’re one to talk,” he says, giving your ass a teasing squeeze. “Girlfriend.”

You groan.

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