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synopsis | your university's hot literature professor has made it his mission to make your life hell, and you're determined to find out why.
details | professor!euijoo x female!reader, reader is a teaching assistant & consenting adult, gendered terms (ma'am, girl, etc.), 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, bff!yuma, exhibitionism, masturbation, reader is a bit of a peeping tom, muppets mention, cursing, you might actually learn something from this, horny poetry, soft dom!joo, thigh riding, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT WRAP IT WRAP IT), creampie, no use of y/n, lowercase intended
wc | 12.2k
from the author | who else is excited to stop Hearing about this
“could you hand me that pen?”
you didnt even realize you were zoning out; it was just so boring. as a teaching assistant, you’d already taken this introductory seminar and several like it. and the classrooms were all the same, set up auditorium-style with mounted desks on risers that went so far back that you couldn’t even tell if the students were awake or not. nine times out of ten, they were not. it felt like the backrooms, an endless stretch of repeating white brick and gray carpet. add on the bright white flash of the projector casting the bottom left corner of the screen directly into your eyes and there you had it: a recipe for zoning the fuck out for three hours.
but when you looked up, professor byun had his hand outstretched to you, a patient smile etched onto his face. that’s really all it took to snap you back into yourself. the pen seemed to turn to liquid as you grabbed for it, fumbling over your own fingers. silence settled over the lecture hall like fog, the shrill scraping of the pen’s plastic casing on your wooden desk the only sound louder than your heartbeat climbing to your ears. you handed it to him, finally, mouthing sorry as he plucked it from your fingertips. it was quite literally your only job to hand him pens or paper or whatever he might need while he was teaching. that was the job description, but you’d had the longest week of your life, and professor byun’s 8 am literary studies seminar was the tired, dreary cherry on top.
one thing you could always appreciate about your supervisor, or mentor as he so graciously asked you to call him, was his grace. he was incredibly young, only a few years older than you, so he still knew how draining it was to be in your position. you’d applied to graduate school with the hopes of being in professor byun’s exact same position one day, droning on and on about your favorite subject matter and forcing forty-ish people to listen, or at least pretend to listen, to you ramble for three hours twice a week. so, he was very open to taking you under his wing as his teaching assistant at the beginning of the semester. you didn’t account for how distracting it would be from your studies, though, to work alongside a hot literature nerd.
byun euijoo was a sight for sore, tired eyes. he loomed over almost everyone, shoulders broad and accentuated most days by a padded blazer. he wore thin framed glasses on the slope of his nose, the tops of which were covered, usually, by a wisped veil of brown hair, ends curling and flipping up at the base of his neck. everything about him was good; his face was sweet and soft, especially when he would smile, accentuating the supple curve of his cheeks. not to mention the warmth of his eyes, round and inviting. yet, it was so difficult to maintain eye contact with him for too long, his gaze too expectant, too hopeful. it made you sick. even when he grabbed the pen from you under the judgemental stares of his students, his stare was forgiving. dont sweat it, he scrunched his eyes in a subtle smile, brows furrowed, understanding.
the lecture wrapped up after what felt like days. the past two weeks had been dedicated to different literary critics, which was simply old news to you. there was no harm in a refresher course in post-structuralism, but, unfortunately, not even byun euijoo could have made that class interesting. you had already been grappling with your own instability. and apparently it was evident.
“are you doing alright?” professor byun asked as the last of the students filed out of the lecture hall. their conversations buzzed until the chatter fizzled out into a dull silence. you had started shoving your own belongings into your bag, noticing the pen you handed him earlier roll across the table, gradually slowing to a halt as he added, “you seemed a bit out of it today.”
even as he leaned, casually, against the desk, you felt like the room was closing in on you. he had traded his blazer for a light, knit cardigan that draped over his shoulders, held closed by two buttons in the center. he looked effortlessly casual, stark next to your half-assed attempts at professional attire. everyday was a struggle to look twenty something, having had too many students call you “ma’am” when you handed them their graded papers back. somehow only byun euijoo, highly regarded literature professor, could wear jeans and a cardigan and still look like the most respected person in the room.
“oh, yeah. sorry,” you slipped your bag onto your shoulder, using the heaving motion to put some space between the two of you. it was rare that he lingered post-lecture, usually running off to another class or do whatever in his office from noon to dusk. you’d never seen office hours run an entire afternoon, but apparently that’s what happened when people cared about your opinion and actually wanted to meet with you; you just had to sit in your office for an entire day. no wonder he was sticking around today. “i’m just tired. i’m pretty sure my roommate is conducting unauthorized sleep studies on me for a project.”
like in a dream, he raised both eyebrows at your theory, lips pressing into a thin smile. you didn’t need to tell him all of that, but he seemed to appreciate the honesty. he nodded, “yeah, that,” he laughed, “that sounds less than ideal.”
“but it’s due soon,” you quickly added, “so i should be back in action later this week. up and at ‘em. ready to, you know, hand you the pen and stuff.” if there were ever a perfect time to stop talking, it would have been thirty-five seconds ago. it actually would have been several minutes ago, immediately following his simple and polite, “yes” or “no” question. there was no version of that conversation that ended with embarrassment. i’m just stressed, you should have said, thanks. because what graduate student wasn’t stressed?
professor byun nodded, the motion tousling his hair over his forehead. “well, good,” he feigned a serious, stern expression, “i need my pen.” you could’t help but smile, just a tad, as he was so damn charismatic. he pushed himself off the table in a swift, smooth motion and held his hand up, hesitating for a moment like he was going to clap you on the shoulder. a reassuring gesture, surely, but instead of following through, he flipped his arm over, checking his watch. he pushed his glasses up on his nose, scrunching it awkwardly. “let me know if i can do anything for you, okay? i mean it.”
“sure,” you gave him a small smile as he slipped through the gap between you and the whiteboard behind you. his cologne wafted over you in a swift gust, sweet and warm. “thank you, professor byun.”
he suddenly stopped in his path to the door, broad shoulders slumping. he reminded you, urged you, “i told you not to call me that. call me euijoo, please.”
euijoo. the name was sweet, like him. or at least the version of him you made up; the one that sipped his coffee at the boiling point in a graphic t-shirt every morning; the one that preferred cats despite wanting a dog, a big one with scary, human-like eyes; the one that practiced eye contact in the mirror while he brushed his teeth because no one was naturally that attentive. sure, you could call him that. you could call him by his name, informally, no problem. you were essentially equals; he was only a few years older than you, but it always felt kind of weird to refer to him as professor, especially since he wasn’t even your professor. you always erred on the side of caution, though, careful not to offend or insult him.
“oh, one more thing!” before you could confirm or deny his request, he spoke again, this time raking a hand down the side of his hair, smoothing it awkardly, “could you get those exams from last week graded?”
“sure thing,” no, i have a life, “I’ve already started them,” i havent touched them, “I’ll drop them off later during your office hours, if that’s okay?” im going to disappear and then youll never know that half your students dont know the difference between feminist and queer theory.
“yeah,” euijoo breathed, unsure. he adjusted his glasses again, glancing at his watch before nodding, “yeah, that should be fine. i’ll be in a meeting until 2, but you can stop by any time after that.”
almost too eagerly, you agreed, “you got it!”
and as euijoo left the lecture hall, you realized just how much shit you had to do. you wiped down the whiteboard, which euijoo never did before he ended class, simply content with leaving his little notes and concept headings scribbled for the next professor to deal with. but you had some respect for other people’s time. you logged him out of the room’s computer, turning off the projector in the process, and shut all the lights down before leaving the lecture hall yourself. the stack of fifty-something ungraded exams pulled you down, a weight on your shoulder and your mind.
“hi, professor byun. im having some problems understanding the material for the upcoming exam. what’s the main difference between derrida and barthes’ concepts of post structuralism?”
your sandwich remained neglected in its plastic container next to you, accompanied only by the fountain drink you’d treated yourself to. condensation trickled down the cup in steady rivulets and pooled around the base in a ring. when you picked it up to take a sip, water dribbled across your laptop's keyboard. you wiped it clean with your shirt sleeve as you finished reading the email from one of the students in the literary seminar. you asked, “what do i even say to this? read the textbook, review the slides, make it up? you can basically just make it up.”
“yeah, i dont know what the fuck any of that means,” yuma took an obnoxious bite of his lunch, doing absolutely nothing to console you in your stressed state, which, according to what you told euijoo, was completely his fault. he agreed to meet you for lunch, even offering to pay for your sandwich, under the condition that you would look over his lab report- the sleep study. “sounds like something i’d ask if i were really distracted during class and wanted some extra help.”
yuma punctuated his statement with a concerning number of eyebrow raises, his tongue poking out from a mischievous grin. you rolled your eyes, “funny.” you should have known better than to ask yuma any kind of serious question. you’d been friends with him long enough to know that he would explode if he missed the opportunity to turn a pressing situation into a punchline for a dirty joke. and you had lived with him long enough to know that his flirty personality worked very well for him. but you couldn’t entertain his shenanigans. not today. “what’s worse is i dont even think he covered that this week. is that even supposed to be on the exam?”
the campus dining hall was starting to get crowded, undergraduate students getting out of their noon classes and coming straight to fuel their brains. everything that wasnt fast food was grotesquely overpriced, so you were thankful for yuma’s wallet. you dreaded having to look over his paper, though, the title page mocking you atop the stack of exams you had yet to grade. it was as though it had eyes, staring right through you. the last thing you needed was to know what your body did while you were sleeping. that was, quite frankly, none of your business. in hindsight, it wasn’t yuma’s either. you hated the idea of him standing at the foot of your bed with a clipboard throughout the night, marking when you snored, taking your pulse with two clammy fingers, and shining his phone flashlight in your eyes. research is research.
“do you think he knows he’s hot?” yuma asked, pushing the last of his lunch around in the bottom of his cardboard to-go box. you had tried for many years to learn the way yuma’s brain worked, but it became clear very quickly that there would never be any way to predict what he would say next. he was genuinely curious, and, honestly, so were you. you thought back to that morning, the frantic apologies he muttered every time the computer buffered and took longer than anticipated to load whatever he was projecting onto the board. he was a little bit late, and none of the students even looked up from their phones when he walked through the door- only you did that.
“definitely not,” you closed your laptop, having sent a reply to the student’s email that just said, in typical, effortless byun euijoo fashion, please refer to the class notes. you shoved the device into your bag and scooted the stack of papers toward you. “hes got, like, clark kent vibes, and clark was famously not hot. it was his whole thing.”
only clark kent, much like euijoo, was hot; he was just awkward, hunching over and diminishing himself to blend in. you wondered if euijoo was doing that, too, if euijoo was hiding something, like a superpower. or a secret.
“you just have a thing for cardigans. a hot nerd in a cardigan is gonna do it for you every time,” yuma shrugged before reaching his hands across the table, gently taking your hand between his, “its sick. you need to talk to someone, seriously.” you pulled your hand away and swatted at him, narrowing your eyes. yuma put his hands up, palms out defensively, “i’m just saying, damn.”
“i can’t even joke with you right now, yuma,” you pressed your fingers to your temples, blocking him out in every possible way as you squeezed your eyes closed, “i have so much to do.”
yuma flipped through the corner of the stack of papers, as if he were counting all fifty of them. he raised his brows, whistling for effect, “yeah, dr. murata just makes me click the slides for him and grab his shit from the printer.”
like you, yuma was a teaching assistant, only his supervising faculty member for the psychology program’s introductory seminar was more experienced, less hands on with his mentoring. in some ways, you were grateful that euijoo was giving you some genuine experience with planning and grading rather than just leading discussions. yuma wasn’t getting any of that. in fact, it seemed as though your dynamic with euijoo was similar to yuma’s with dr. murata, only inverted. you constructed the lesson plans, graded the exams, took attendance, handed out supplemental lecture materials, recorded discussion participation, and answered all of the emails about the class, all while professor byun stood in all his professional glory behind the computer and clicked away. slide 1, slide 2, could you hand me that pen?
but, it was fine; you signed up for this, for running errands and buying him water from the vending machine and grabbing his shit from the printer. it would make you a better educator in the future, surely.
you had just flipped open yuma’s draft and began glancing over the introductory section when yuma reached back over the table and snatched it from the top of the stack. “don’t waste your time with this,” he sighed, giving you a pitiful look, “i wrote it, so its gotta be good. this,” yuma motioned to you, just in general, blinking rapidly, “this is bad.”
“well, thanks,” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at him once, then twice, just to see if he would backtrack at all. as expected, he did not. instead, he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders, crumbling his napkin from lunch up in his fist and stuffing it into his pocket. yuma kissed his fingertips and cast the gesture toward you- a blessing.
“see you at home,” he shouted over his shoulder as he left the dining hall, as he left you with euijoo’s papers and euijoo’s emails and your uneaten sandwich and your very, very wet cup of soda.
it took you all of three hours to finish grading the stack of exams, complete with marginal feedback and brief comments on the essay questions at the end of each test. you were already exhausted, but the repetitive marking and circling and scribbling nice! next to every half-assed analysis sucked the rest of your energy out of you through a short straw. you had wanted to drop the stack off in euijoo’s office, just as he asked, and go straight home. maybe yuma would have started cooking something, and maybe he would have even saved you a plate knowing how miserable you were earlier. maybe. but none of that mattered when euijoo asked you, “did you bring the lesson plans for next unit?”
you stood, confused, in the middle of his office. you’d been in there a dozen times, always observant of which books were missing from his shelves, which books were strewn about on his desk and stuffed full of sticky notes and highlighter ink. you wondered how he could even see in the dim lighting, the only source the small table lamp on his desk. he was a collector of things, memories, like the stack of receipts he would use as bookmarks.
you furrowed your eyebrows, reaching into your bag aimlessly, “sorry, i don’t remember you asking for those yet.”
“hm, i must have forgot,” euijoo leaned back in his chair, one of those really nice, vintage leather ones. he crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his cardigan pulling taut against his forearms, riding up to reveal the delicate skin of his wrist. you thought about what yuma had said. you really did have a problem. he worked his lips into a fine line, thinking as he studied the obvious hesitance on your face. he sat up straight, clearing off a space on his desk in front of him, “you know what? don’t even worry about it.”
“are you sure?” you blinked back your surprise. the smile he gave you was laced with something, you were sure of it. euijoo shrugged it off, as if doing his work that he was paid to do was somehow a favor to you. it felt like it, though. it also felt like a test, like a trial you were supposed to overcome.
“positive,” he asserted, said as if there were no other obvious option, “you should go home and get some sleep, yeah?”
yeah, you should have done that. you should have agreed with a nod, turned heel, and went directly home. but there was something about him that kept pulling you in against all rationale, against all reasoning. you noticed that his eyes dragged a little too far down your face when you spoke, tracing your lips. sometimes his gaze kept going, falling down your neck and further. you chocked it up as being a product of yuma’s delusions; you were imagining things because yuma kept giving you things to imagine. he’s testing your boundaries, yuma had mentioned, its his way of seeing how far you’ll let him go. and in some ways, that made sense. euijoo just kept adding extra duties to your workload. how far would he take it? how far would you let him?
evidently, the limit did not exist. because you went straight from his office, where he looked you up and down and gave you the evening off, to the library, where you opened up a template and began constructing the lesson plans for next unit that he didnt ask you to do but pretty much wanted you to do. and you were nothing if not a people pleaser, an overachiever, and an ass kisser. and you were kissing his ass big time. you had curled up in the corner of the library for an additional two hours, racing the sunlight so as to not be traipsing around on campus after dark but to no avail. the streetlamps on the sidewalk corners stirred to life as soon as you collected the lesson plans from the library printer, peering in at you through the windows. they were taunting you, mocking your attempt to earn brownie points with euijoo. all for what? a letter of recommendation? was he even qualified to write those?
the walk back to his office was the same as before, just with slightly more dread involved and less daylight to reveal the jagged cracks and dips in the sidewalk. the staircase was just as humid. the hallway that housed the faculty offices was dim, too. the department professors and staff had already packed up and went home for the evening. like you should have. their doors were closed, little personalized signs and posters and corkboards adorning them. as you shuffled down the tight tunnel of a hall, you noticed that euijoo’s door was now closed, when earlier it had been propped wide open to reveal his somewhat messy but nonetheless impressively organized bookshelves and desk. the papers grew heavy in your hands, the ink no doubt smearing under the pads of your clammy fingers, as you stopped in front of his office door.
byun euijoo, the little black plaque stared back at you, assistant professor. and beneath it, scrawled on a notecard and taped haphazardly to the dark oak: please knock!
it was worth a try; if he wasn’t in, you’d simply bring everything with you to his class next week, or you’d try again tomorrow. embarrassment flooded your cheeks at the idea of knocking on a door to an empty room. you couldnt decide if you wanted him to be in there or not, if it would be less humiliating to present the lesson plans a few days later rather than a few hours. the latter screamed, hey, im desperate for your approval and i think youre weirdly hot! maybe not the second part, but certainly the first. perhaps he would find it endearing that you dedicated your entire thursday to doing his job for him. wait, was byun euijoo an asshole?
surely, not, right?
there was only one way to find out, to really know what boundaries he had silently set for your workload. there was only one way to know if he would appreciate your hard work or think you were a freak, or a loser, or just desperate. or some pathetic combination of all three, which was honestly the most likely option. regardless, you lifted your hand, tucking your thumb into your fist for maximum knocking efficiency. the plan was three solid raps, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to disturb anyone who might still be lingering, but your knuckles never made it to the door, frozen in mid air and still balled up. you heard something on the other side. and you tried not to make a habit of eavesdropping, but sometimes the situation called for it.
this was one of those situations, and “eavesdropping” is a generous term, for what you were doing was not eavesdropping but merely standing on the other side of a closed door, acutely aware of your surroundings and attentive to every movement and sound around you, including the noises seeping from beneath euijoo’s office door: a hiss through closed teeth, an uneven rustling of cloth, the fervent but faint creaking of a desk chair- it sounded like he had knocked over a cup of fresh, hot coffee, the liquid searing into his skin.
“fuck,” he dragged, barely under his breath, voice low but not low enough. either the coffee was really hot, or you were hearing something you were never meant to, something private, something you had shamefully imagined a few times when your mind would wander while he lectured. you’d watched his slender fingers coil around the whiteboard markers, scrawling who-knows-what in unreadable handwriting, tendons flexing, wrist stiff. now, you could hear the slick, ceaseless movement of his hand, coiled around his cock instead.
your face grew hot, blood pumping from your racing heart. you hated the way your mouth watered, how your neck angled your head just enough to press your ear closer to the door. you were close enough to hear the stifled moans that lodged behind his lips, escaping only in sighs and grunts, as if he were clearing his throat. it could have sounded ordinary if not for the occasional hum or hiss, the kind only someone drunk on their own pleasure would let slip. you imagined him, head thrown back and resting on the leather of his chair, his throat working as he gulped down his whines and curses like a steady trickle of water. you imagined him, chest rising and rarely falling in the dim light of the room as his hand dragged the length of his cock in desperate strokes, until he couldnt take it anymore. his breathing grew faster, and your clammy hands grew weaker, and you should have known this would happen to you.
you should have known the paper on the bottom of the stack of lesson plans you were holding would slip right out of your hands and sweep, incriminatingly, through the inch of space between the vintage flooring and the door to his office, which was closed for a reason. there was no denying yourself, now. so, you knocked, rapidly and perhaps too eagerly to compensate for the cold sweep of dread that mixed with the hot pool of shame in your gut, like the start of a summer storm. shit, shit, shit, the voice in your head chanted while every part of your body burned, trembling as you heard him scramble on the other side of the door.
there was a stillness followed by a choked, startled noise. he cleared his throat, for real this time, and shouted, “coming! er- i mean. one second!” there was a breathless quality to his voice that, unfortunately for you, made your thighs clench and your face heat up. you should have just turned and left, and you probably would have if not for the incriminating paper on the other side of the door. he would have known that you were there, and leaving would only be more suspicious. at least now you could defend yourself. no, professor byun. i wasn’t eavesdropping on you beating your shit crazy style. i would never, ever, ever even consider doing that. but as you heard the buckling of a belt, the shifting of his chair, and the deep, recovering sigh, it was nearly explicit what you had been doing.
the door swung open, the gust rustling the paper on the floor behind him and blowing loose pieces of his hair, no longer carefully arranged to look naturally messy but genuinely messy. he had abandoned his cardigan, leaving only a faintly wrinkled white tee clinging to his shoulders. his face and neck were flushed dark pink, veins pulsing on the side of his throat. euijoo gulped when he saw you standing there, clutching the paper close to your chest. you knew you looked guilty; you could tell by the way his ears stayed red as he asked you, “what… what are you doing here?”
“lesson plans,” you held them out, arms straight, “i went ahead and did them and, uh, thought i’d drop them off.”
“oh,” euijoo wiped his hands on the front of his pants, quickly and inconspicuously, before taking the stack from you and holding them comfortably in one hand, “i thought i said i would do them, hm?” euijoo feathered through the papers, looking over them, inspecting them.
no, you wanted to say, you said ‘dont worry about it,’ meaning i’d be doing them next week anyway. but instead, you feigned an innocent confusion, quirking an eyebrow all the way to the ceiling, “did you? i guess i misheard you. plus, i had the time! it was no trouble at all.” your smile was sweet, convincing.
but euijoo’s wasn’t either of those things. in fact, it was barely a smile, bordering on a smirk, one that said he knew everything. he held your gaze for a beat too long, maybe to gauge you, to see if you were really standing there long enough to hear or know anything. but he knew you weren’t stupid. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth before darting across his bottom lip, still bitten and glistening form having it tucked between his teeth while he-
“well, then, uh,” he sucked his teeth, still breathless, raising the stack of papers and meeting your eyes one final time, “thanks. i appreciate it.”
“how horny do you have to be to jack off in an office?”
yuma had completely ignored everything else you told him, including that the last three weeks had been absolute hell for you. after your encounter, euijoo piled the tasks on without remorse. suddenly, there were more papers, midterm tests turned into midterm papers, and more quizzes were being given in class, seemingly for the sole purpose that you would need to grade them. and euijoo grew cold, toward everyone but especially you. it was as though all of his charm had sloughed off overnight, like he had molted and evolved into some brooding asshole with a pen behind his ear.
“that’s what stuck? not the unbearable stress i’m under? or my misery?” you prodded his side on the couch, the show he was watching dissolving into static background noise at the sudden dump of gossip you provided, “yuma, think about my misery.”
“you’ve been in misery this whole time,” yuma rolled his eyes, muttering, “only difference is that it’s at least interesting now.”
“interesting for you,” you covered your face with your hands, sighing deeply. “horrible for me. he won’t even look at me, and i didn’t even do anything.”
the class was the definition of tense following the incident. your lesson plans were thorough, yes, but they were not nearly as packed with papers and assignments and groupwork as euijoo was enacting. you felt bad for the students, mostly, that your eager-to-please nature had tripled their final courseload. but then you felt bad for euijoo, and yuma scolded you for that. he said, “he’s a grown man. frankly, he needs to just get over it.” but you knew what it felt like to be embarrassed. granted, you dealt with it a little differently, with a conversation or just ignoring it completely. euijoo was confronting you with his embarrassment every single day, sliding stacks of ungraded papers across your table toward you at the end of class and leaving without a word. you’d been grading them at home and just bringing them to class to avoid another encounter in his office. even during office hours, you felt like it would only bring up ill feelings. or other feelings.
“here’s what i think,” yuma stood up from the couch beside you, ignoring your displeased grunt as you slumped over into the warmth of his empty cushion. he clapped his hands together in a righteous, all-knowing fashion, as if he had stepped into the shoes of a scholar. one who studies unfortunate tension between awkward individuals and inappropriate work relationships. he announced, “i think professor big-dick has the hots for his TA, and i mean you if thats not clear. and i think he has poor emotional processing skills and a very high sex drive. and no, that’s not a headcanon or personal fantasy- just the truth. and i think the combination of all of those things has left him very confused and, if i might assign vulnerability to a male figure of authority, scared.”
you knew yuma had a wild imagination, but this was beyond your expectations for whatever he was about to tell you. the inside of your mouth was bone dry from how long you jaw had been flat on the floor. you couldn’t believe what he was implying. yet, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt like you knew there was some truth to it. “no,” you shook your head, rubbing your eyes, “don’t suggest it’s my fault somehow that he’s fucking my entire life over.”
“not your fault, babe,” yuma flicked his hair from his face with his fingertips, “you’re hot and smart. and now he knows you’re a sick little voyeur-”
“yuma!” you threw a pillow at him, and he didnt even budge when it smacked into his chest, still standing in an overconfident pose, “you would’ve done the same thing!”
“yeah,” he shrugged, “only he wasn’t thinking about me, idiot. i’d just be a creep.”
you couldnt help but feel as though you’d crossed a line somehow, albeit accidentally. but crossed nonetheless. it seemed as though you’d never be able to go back to the lighthearted, supportive, non-complicated relationship you’d had with euijoo only three weeks prior. he’d checked in on you then, at least, begged for informalities. now, he expected your complete surrender to his every wish without a second thought for your own studies beyond your duties as his assistant. you had papers to write rather than grade. you had your own exams to study for, but you were too focused on making study guides for the final exam in euijoo’s class to even worry about how much of your own degree was being swept under the rug.
so, you kept what yuma said in the back of your mind: confused and scared.
the next time you saw him, it was a tuesday. there were only a few classes left until finals week. and until your mentorship with euijoo would expire, hopefully with a letter of recommendation to show for it. if you were lucky, you’d remain amicable and disregard all the unnecessary tension he’d created and you’d tried desperately to dissolve. it wasn’t explicitly sexual, but yuma was so sure that you began to suspect it, too.
euijoo was still charming, you’d noticed, even when he was clearly stressed out. there was something extra alluring about the throbbing vein in his neck, the way his glasses slid down his nose as he buried his face in his computer at the front podium. this class period was a dedicated work day for the students to finalize their presentation scripts and slides, so you and euijoo were basically useless, lingering silently mere feet from each other for three hours. his shoulders hunched over as he typed away, the faint click of his keyboard breaking through the soft chatter of the class. it was all you could hear, the mechanical tapping only muted by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
and when the class was over, you weren’t as prompt leaving as you had been for the last month. usually, you had your laptop stuffed into your bag before the first student left the room, ready to bolt. but today, you stuck around a moment too long, and euijoo was already standing next to you when you closed your laptop. you could feel his eyes on the top of your head, tracing the side of your face. you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. instead of looking up at him, instead of meeting his eyes in this perfectly planned display of power, you stood up from your chair and met his gaze that way. he was taller than you, so you weren’t eye-level with him, but it felt like enough to tilt your chin up and roll your shoulders back. euijoo tilted his head at your boldness, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, like he was neutralizing a smirk. you narrowed your eyes into his, fighting the pull to get completely lost in them. his glasses made you think of an aquarium, his eyes swirling like tepid water. there was a part of you that wanted to tap on the glass, like a kid, if only to see if he would flinch like a fish or push back, like a wave.
you got your answer. euijoo broke eye contact with you to reach into his bag and pull out a stack of papers. he gently placed them on the table between you and, with four fingers flat on the top, slid the stack as close to you as he could, closing the distance between you with one confident stride. you softly gasped, and you hoped he didnt hear.
“thursday,” euijoo said as he leaned down, just enough to make sure you could hear him. his breath tickled the cusp of your ear and, then, he left, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. you stood there, frozen. there was an unfamiliar feeling in your chest, one that tasted like lust but hit like anger.
your feet were moving before you could think about what to do next, dragging you out of the empty seminar room, down the hall, and into the faculty office corridor. you scanned the names on the doors like you didnt know exactly where you were going. and when you got there, he was peacefully sat at his desk, book spread open before him and a pen in hand. you marched right through his door, propped open with a rubber wedge, which you swiftly kicked out of the way to let the door close behind you.
as you charged into the room, euijoo dog-eared his page, sighing like you had inconvenienced him, “i have a meeting in-”
“no, you fucking don’t,” you countered, punctuating your statement with the stack of papers, slamming the stack on the corner of his desk unoccupied by whatever hipster shit he decided to display that week, “and i’d know because i’d have to put it in your google calendar.”
“you’re upset,” euijoo raised his eyebrows as he observed your behavior, like a scientist and his test subject. it felt like he was studying you, even now, and, honestly, you were kind of sick of being the center of so many experiments without your permission.
“yeah,” you smiled, half in disbelief and half just to keep yourself together, “yeah, i’m upset.”
“would you like a break this week?” he asked, like it was the most obvious question in the world. he closed his book, tucking it away somewhere off to the side of his desk. “it’s almost finals, so i understand if you don’t feel like working.”
“that-” you stopped, taking a deep breath. if byun euijoo had one thing, it was the nerve. it was the confidence to say whatever he wanted without repercussion. you wondered, between flashes of red, how long he had been like this and you had been too naive, too distracted by his cute-ass cardigans and fluffy hair to notice just how much of a dickhead he was. you thought back to The Day, before you stumbled into the most awkward situation of your life, even before you got lunch with yuma. you thought back to the class, when he had asked you if you were alright. he couldn’t even reach one foot in front of him to grab a pen from the table, only asking you if you were alright because you failed to obey him immediately. was that all you were good for? “that is so gracious of you, euijoo, really. because i’ve been working so, so much for the last month. i’d even go so far to say ive been doing nothing but working. wouldnt you?”
“you’ve been very helpful, if that’s what you mean,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “but i can see how i might have… overloaded you.”
“yeah, if by ‘overloaded’ you mean i’ve been doing your fucking job for you,” your voice was coming out harsher by the second, but there was no guarantee you’d be able to get this off your chest again with the way he’d been avoiding you.
“i wouldn’t say that.”
“i would,” you bit back, “im grading all the papers, making the lesson plans, answering all your fucking emails.” you reached a shaking hand out to count your tasks on bent fingers. “i’m putting tests together, scheduling your meetings, compiling study guides. i’m pulling all nighters so often, i don’t even know what day it is until i look at your emails and see students asking about ‘class tomorrow.’ none of this is going to fucking matter if i fail out of all my classes because you cant spare an hour to grade your own shitty assignments. i’m doing everything, and what are you doing besides jacking off in your office like a pervert?”
the silence was thick. you swore you could taste it settling flat on your tongue, tangy with remorse but just barely. it was sweet more than anything and heavy like honey. your chest felt lighter despite how hard it was to breathe, your lungs manually inflating, compressing, inflating- all as shallow as you felt throwing that at him. you weren’t normally this way, and he could see that. you saw him realize that, his eyes darkening as he visibly gulped back anything he thought about saying in response. instead, euijoo, prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, eyes half-lidded and jaw clenched. he kept his posture disengaged, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, although his fist clenched tighter under his bicep. he directed, finally doing one part of his job, “i think you should watch how you talk to me.”
“i think you should watch how you look at me.”
euijoo breathed a laugh, dumbfounded. he shook his head, like you had just told him something he knew was so far-fetched it could not possibly be true. like you’d said kermit was the hottest muppet; that’s how he laughed, like he knew it was really gonzo. he moved to stand up, extending his hand to the door behind you, “you should leave. i’m incredibly busy with things you dont know about, if you can believe it.”
“i’m sure you are now, considering i just returned every last one of your ungraded assignments,” you were the one to cross your arms now, standing firm in your place. you nodded vaguely toward the tower of stapled papers on the corner of the desk, “most of these aren’t even for the intro seminar. i can check credit or no credit for a multiple choice quiz, but i dont know how to grade your shakespearean analyses or your goddamn poetry explications. i mean, i could figure it out, but-”
“want me to show you?”
you nearly laughed, thinking euijoo was mocking your ignorance, until you met his eyes, dark and narrowed. he held your gaze as he sat back in his chair, aligning his posture with the leather backing and firmly planting his feet, an inverse of the relaxed stature he sported when you came crashing in. he was completely serious about showing you how to do everything you mentioned, this you knew, but you weren’t stupid. there was an undertone, a silky venom under that first word- want. did you want him to show you? did you want him? the line had already been crossed. the two of you knew this and had known it for weeks, and, instead of calling it quits, you dragged it out. and now you had to decide; did you want euijoo to show you?
you could basically feel yuma’s spirit in the room with you, grabby hands pushing you forward and snickering like a teenage girl, as you took two cautious steps around the corner of the desk. you had been closer to him before, like half an hour ago when he handed you the mismatched stack of papers and ghosted his breath on the shell of your ear, when he let his chest graze your shoulder. but it felt murky, now, as you stood next to him, arms still crossed as he fished a few poetry papers from the stack. he thumbed through them, looking for the perfect example, and, when he found it, he glanced briefly at you over his shoulder.
“alright, so,” euijoo’s hands firmly pinched the edges of the paper, “you know poetry is all about choices. diction, imagery, meter, line breaks- the works; an explication magnifies those choices in the context of the poem, yeah? it makes the implicit explicit.”
you nodded, but you were not listening. you were entirely focused on the flex of his fingers as he spoke, the curve of his wrist and the soft skin that disappeared under the sleeve of his blazer. you watched the tip of his nose move with his lips, the silver frame of his glasses glinting against the dim light of the lamp in the corner. implicit, explicit- it felt more pertinent to your situation than you’d cared to admit.
“are you listening?” euijoo asked, not bothering to turn to look at you this time, “i asked if you’ve read this poem before.”
“oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, “no, sorry. i dont read a lot of poetry.”
“that’s too bad,” euijoo sighed, swiveling around to angle his body toward you. it was all too much, really, the confrontation followed by the accusations and now the lesson? on a poem you’d never read for a class you didn’t plan on taking to grade a paper that wasn’t your responsibility. and he was sitting there, thighs spread enough to make him look even broader than he was, thighs carved under brown slacks. “would you like to read it?”
“hm?” you eyed him, cautiously, eyebrows raised as if you still didnt hear him. you mouthed, oh, and reached out your hand, waiting for him to give you the poem. how else would you read it? but instead, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently, moving in short, calculated motions. euijoo tugged your wrist toward him, a subtle gesture as though he were waiting for you to move on your own accord. this was the line, you realized, everything else was just poor timing and yuma’s imagination feeding your delusions. regardless of the ethics, the mental gymnastics you would need to do later to justify it all, you let your body succumb to his gravity. you followed the lead of his hand as he guided you to him, onto his lap, onto one thigh. you couldnt bite back your gasp as you settled onto his leg. yours were awkwardly situated off to the side, but you couldn’t care, not with the full heat of euijoos body pressed flat behind you. you could feel the muscles of his thigh, flexing under the swell of your ass. his hand had abandoned your wrist and settled instead on the sensitive skin on the back of your arms, his fingertips grazed the curve of your waist with every intoxicating drag of his knuckles to your elbows. it was exactly like striking steel on stone only slowly, tenderly as if it were a matter of intent. the fire would start, eventually.
he leaned back in his seat, relaxing in a way that made your rigid stance all the more noticeable, as conspicuous as the goosebumps prickling every visible part of your body. euijoo breathed deep. “go on,” he said, “read it aloud if you want.”
you reached forward with obvious, shaking hands and scooted the paper toward you, stapled in the corner and heavy on only that side. you didn’t read aloud, afraid of what your voice would do if you even tried to speak in your current situation, but you felt euijoo’s eyes on you as you read. the writing was gorgeous, a tightly quilted cacophony of jarring but vivid images. you didn’t fully understand it, but that was the point. it drew your face into a point, one euijoo mirrored as he followed your eyes on the page, reading it alongside you. “beautiful,” he murmured, slipping his foot between yours and maneuvering your legs open, until you were straddling his thigh. and as you steadied your palms on the edge of his desk, adjusting to your new, sinful position, euijoo said, “now, in an explication, it’s all about making connections. consider the poem’s speaker, its meaning,” he slipped his fingertips under the hem of your shirt, grazing your waist with cold, nimble fingers, calloused from turning the page, from holding the pen, from gripping the leash of the dog you made up in your head. this was real, though, and you leaned back into his touch more than you should have, desperate for some kind of contact beyond his knuckles on your arm and, now, the press of his leg into your pulsing core. he walked his hands up your sides, stopping right under your ribs. his thumbs seared their own paths along your spine, pressing deliciously into your delicate skin. “remember what i said earlier about choices? an explication connects a poem’s meaning to things like meter and enjambment, or it considers the perspective of the poem’s speaker and the poet’s diction, imagery, rhythm.”
euijoo’s hands slid to your hips, squeezing tentatively before pushing you down on the peak of his thigh. the sudden pressure, the final flick of steel on flint, pulled a moan from your throat that should have made you feel embarrassed but didn’t, not with euijoo guiding your hips back and forth over him, flexing his thigh deliciously under your clothed, aching core. he dragged you in short, slow motions, letting you work with him, letting you roll your hips over the taut muscles. you could hear his breathing grow uneven with every push and pull, every surrender to the urges he’d fought back the entire semester with you. you could feel him holding back, dipping his fingertips just beneath the waist of your pants and pressing into your flesh. you angled your hips back, just barely, and euijoo jolted under you as your ass brushed the evident, growing bulge in his slacks, his sudden movement eliciting another sound from you. and as the two of you groaned, together, you realized how easily someone could walk by the closed door, how someone could knock, or rather how they could not.
and you realized how concerning it was that you didn’t really care. not at that moment, as euijoo sat up straight behind you, pulling your back flat against his heaving chest. you felt his heartbeat between your shoulderblades. he ground you down onto his leg once again, forcing sparks against your throbbing clit, even through the layers of clothing. you felt euijoo move your hair away from your neck and press a soft kiss to the back of your neck. wet, open-mouthed, and his tongue lingered at the tail-end, dragging a warm stripe up to your ear. “do you understand, now?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear.
you hummed, almost drunk on him. but not drunk enough. “do you?” you smirked, rolling your hips against him once again, reveling in the friction as long as he would allow it, “i could have googled that.”
one hand abandoned your waist and came up to your chin, holding your jaw. euijoo turned your face, gently, to look at him. his eyes glinted, dark, behind his glasses. his hand was so big, obvious against the curve of your cheek. he scanned your eyes for any sign of remorse, any inkling of regret, or fear, and found nothing but fire. pure heat. he licked his lips, “then why didnt you, hm? had to come in here and make a scene instead.” you placed your hand on his, just long enough to lift and slip his thumb between your lips, humming around his digit as he pushed it further inside. his own mouth fell open as you smoothed your tongue over the pad of his finger, urging him deeper until your lips were sealed up to his knuckle. euijoo groaned softly, pressing down on your tongue as you continued to rock your hips against him. “fuck,” he dragged, “you wanted this, too, hm? didnt you, doll?” euijoo watched as you hollowed your cheeks, his own tongue poking from the side of his mouth. “so desperate, grinding on me. go on and get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. you can do it.” he snaked his free hand from your hip around to your stomach, fingers still looped under your pants, teasing, “been feeling your needy cunt on me this whole time. you can make yourself come, can’t you, darling?”
you whimpered around his thumb, rutting against his leg. you steadied yourself with one hand on the desk and wrapped the other around his wrist, keeping his fingers close to your mouth. your body was so, so close, your core burning white hot. but it wasnt enough. too many layers, too little friction without him pushing you down or flexing his thigh. you wanted more; you needed more.you needed him- his fingers, his mouth, his cock. you shook your head.
“no?” euijoo furrowed his brows, tilting his head in a pout, “first, you can’t do something as simple as read a poem, grade a paper. and now you cant make yourself come? do you need my help with that, too, baby? want me to show you how?”
you nodded, eagerly and without hesitation, but euijoo slid his thumb from your lips, smearing your spit over them like gloss, dragging it up your burning cheek. he cradled your head in his hand, tilting your head to look into his eyes, dark and round, amplified behind glass. he whispered, “i need you to say it for me, beautiful.”
“yes, euijoo,” your voice was low, quiet enough for him to hear and no one else, since you were painfully aware of how easily sound traveled through closed doors, “i want you.”
it was true. you did have a thing for hot nerds in cardigans. and it was sick how you were willing to do anything he asked you. more than willing. in any other universe, the two of you would have crossed paths at the supermarket, where you’d have given him a terrible pasta recipe you’d made up on the spot to impress him, or at a bar, where maybe he’d have bought you a drink and his phone number. instead, your current paths were horribly complicated but crossing nonetheless, intertwining like two steel, barbed wires. like a chainlink fence.
euijoo leaned in first, connecting your lips softer than you’d anticipated, like he was savoring you. in all honesty, you didn’t expect him to kiss you at all, but his lips were plush, warm, and they nestled between yours almost perfectly. he tasted as sweet as he smelled, moved as gentle as he looked. you melted into him, sighing against his lips, moving so meticulously against your own. he moved his hands to your ass, pulling you closer until you were straddling him. this taste of control made your head spin. you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. he hummed into the kiss, squeezing the flesh of your ass and pulling you down against him, just enough to grind up into you. you were both whining, groaning messes against one another, the kiss growing desperate with every grind of your hips, teeth grazing and noses clashing.
“euijoo,” you mumbled, “touch me.”
“hmm,” he disconnected your lips, pulling back only far enough to scan your face, “might need to google it first.”
oh, and he was cheeky, too. great. you were taken aback by the unexpected humor but satisfied with the way he matched your wit. you let a smile bleed through the cool exterior you were trying desperately to maintain, “go ahead. i bet you can figure it out, though,” you smirked, testing the waters, “you touch yourself just fine.”
euijoo let his head hang forward, breathing a laugh. “fair,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, “you’re good.”
“mhm,” you shifted in his lap, “i’m also- what all did you say? desperate, needy?” you leaned back down into him, pulling the collar of his coat away from his neck. you dusted a featherlight kiss right on his pulse, feeling it spike beneath your lips. he sucked in a quick breath, a gasp, and slid his hands over your thighs, squeezing the bulk of them before inching his fingers closer to the button of your pants.
“gotta get these off, yeah?” euijoo breathed as you continued to work kisses up his neck, his jaw, and back to his mouth. before you could connect your lips to his, as you hovered impatiently over him, he pulled his face away, just an inch or two. he watched you fall forward, chasing him. a smirk tugged at his mouth as he whispered, “i want you on my desk.”
you’d barely stepped out of your pants when euijoo hoisted you up, settling you on the edge of the wooden table but only after swiping his books and pens and trinkets out of the way. the pens rolled, a metallic rumbling punctuated by several clinking thuds as they teetered off the edge, and the books remained in tall stacks. the corners prodded your side, but it was a shadow of a sensation the moment euijoo sank to his knees and latched his mouth onto your inner thigh, fingers splayed on the plush flesh, pushing them wider.
the idea used to make your thighs clench, the fleeting and hazy daydream of euijoo between your legs. it had felt intrusive before, like you’d needed something to get through the endless hours of his boring lectures and he was the closest object for your strange affection. and now that it was real, now that you could feel his breath fanning over the damp patch in your underwear, it was still hazy, like you had overindulged, like you had been greedy and you still wanted more.
euijoo looped his fingers around the waist of your underwear, watching as the soaked fabric lifted away from your pussy, only to be quickly replaced with the flat of his tongue. he groaned, lapping up the arousal you’d worked so hard for, remnants of a distant and futile orgasm. his sharp tongue slipped through your folds, prodding at your clit with every slow, upward drag. the pace pulled a sigh from your chest, but every torturous flick of his tongue manifested in a stifled mewl. he was calculated, memorizing your reactions to pressures and patterns, but each movement was so agonizingly slow. you could hardly stand it. you rolled your hips to meet his rhythm, to maybe gain a fraction of speed, but it only made him lag behind his already languid pace.
“please,” you gripped at the edge of the desk to hold yourself back from grabbing his hair and riding his face the way you’d imagined a hundred times, “more, euijoo.”
part of you craved the slow, deliberate pleasure, wanted to savor the dreamy caress of his fingers dragging lightly down the outside of your thighs; another part of you recognized the risk of it all, the thin walls and thinner doors, the effort to swallow the sounds he was pulling from you almost distracting from the feeling itself.
“more?” euijoo grazed your clit with his teeth, smirking against you as your hips jerked involuntarily. he circled your dripping entrance with his fingertip, relishing in the way your body curled toward him as he pushed it inside, slow and even, long and slender. the stretch was subtle at first, and inward, his fingertip grazing the depths of you. you gasped, softly, as he pumped once, twice, and then you gasped, a little less softly, as he reattached his lips to your clit, working every part of your cunt with a fixed precision. euijoo peered up at you, his glasses crooked on his nose as his tongue flicked swift swipes over your aching bud, pleasure burning low in your core.
he added another finger, slipping it in smoothly with the first and curling them at a devastating angle. your moans were stifled, barely more than breath, but they were there, and so were euijoo’s. he hummed against your cunt, lips engulfing your clit to send the vibrations straight through you. he pressed your hips down with his other palm, keeping you still for him as your release crept closer and closer, winding tightly in your core and threatening to snap at any moment. you attempted to roll your hips to amplify the movements of his fingers, chasing your high, but he didn’t stop you this time. instead, he loosened his grip, digging his fingers into your hip but not preventing you from moving, and pressed his tongue flat against you. “take it, baby,” he mumbled, “take what you need.”
and you did, threading your hand in his hair and grinding helplessly on his face as euijoo pumped his fingers relentlessly into you, plucking the taut string until it snapped. your orgasm washed over you, silently and all at once, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. he stilled his tongue against you, feeling the pulse of your heat and catching your release as it leaked around his digits. “that’s it. come all over my fingers, pretty girl.” he slid his fingers out of you before watching them disappear in your sensitive cunt one final time. he brought them to his lips, slurping your juices from his skin, his own lips glistening with a combination of your wetness and his own drool. he was intoxicating- a vision. he squeezed your thigh one final time, whispering, “you’re even sweeter than i imagined.”
imagined. the word made you come back down, your core still pulsing but craving more. you reached out for him, pulling him up to meet your lips in a frenzied, hungry kiss. you let your tongue slip into him immediately, savoring your own flavor on his tongue. he groaned into you, pressing his hips flush to yours; his dick was straining against the front of his pants, twitching against your bare core as your tongues melted against each other. you pulled away first, just enough to ask, “and what else did you imagine?”
euijoo breathed a laugh, casting his eyes away from you like he was embarrassed, scanning the shelves on the wall behind you. his tongue darted out before he slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. he slipped his hands beneath your shirt again, dragging his fingertips up your sides, “i imagined your mouth on my cock,” he said as his gaze fell on your lips, like he were imagining it then, too. he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your jaw, working his way down your neck, “i imagined your throat, bruised and sore after i’ve fucked it raw.”
you couldnt help the way you moaned as euijoo nipped at your skin, soothing the tender area with his tongue. every part of your body was on fire. you slid your hands to the front of his pants, innocently looping your fingers through his belt loops. “and that day, when you thought you were alone,” you pulled the tent of his cock closer, brushing it against your sensitive core, and you felt him moan against your neck, “what did you imagine, then?”
“bending you over my desk,” euijoo hissed into your ear, answering like it was obvious, before smoothing his tongue over the shell of it, “and stuffing you full of my cum.” he pushed his hips closer, grinding up into you in a slow and controlled movement, and growled, lowly, “over and over and over.”
before you could even think, you were shoving his blazer off his shoulders and running your palms over the broad slopes of hidden muscle. beneath, he was clad only in a button up with the sleeves rolled a precise three times to his forearms. he watched you unbutton the top two plastic discs sewn to his shirt and stop, satisfied with the slight reveal of flushed skin. the only thing you had it worse for than a hot nerd in a cardigan was a hot nerd in a slutty little button up. “you have a vivid imagination, euijoo,” you whispered, bringing your hands back down to his belt and toying with the worn metal fixtures, “lots of time to daydream when you have someone else doing your work for you, hm?”
euijoo rolled his eyes, mirroring your smirk as you worked at his belt. he pushed your hands out of the way and swiftly unbuckled the leather strap, unbuttoning his slacks but hesitating to push them down. instead, he scanned your face again, this time really looking at you. he studied the creases of your eyes, the arch of your brow, the plush curve of your lips, red and swollen from being lodged between your teeth to smother your moans. you tilted your head, curious, having never been able to read him in any situation but especially this one. you felt exposed under his gaze, and not only because you were, still nude from the waist down, but because he was too silent. it was like you tripped a wire. he chewed the inside of his cheek, his hand falling to caress the outside of your bare thigh once again. the goosebumps rose as he whispered, “can i admit something?”
“no,” you whispered back, dragging your fingers down his clothed chest, gently passing over the toned slopes of his stomach until you reached the zipper of his slacks. you caught the metal tab between your fingers and pulled it, slowly, over the grinding metal teeth until there was enough space to slip your hand in and press your palm against him, “tell me after you’ve fucked me.”
euijoo choked back a groan, lowering his head to your shoulder as his hips bucked into your hand. his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, sharp pecks along your collarbones growing more intense with every squeeze of your hand, every jolt of pressure. “fuck,” euijoo cursed against your neck, his breathing erratic, like he could have came from this alone, “deal.” he pushed his slacks down enough for his cock to spring free, the tip red and impatient, flushed and frustrated just like his face. and just as pretty. as was the case with any daydream, any fantasy, you’d imagined he would be huge, inhumanly girthy, but the reality was not disappointing; he was average in bulk but long and slightly curved. your mouth watered as your fingers wrapped around him instinctively. your mouth felt suddenly hollow, throat aching to be, what was it, bruised and sore? but, frankly, so was your pussy, dripping with greed all over his desk in a way that should have embarrassed you but only turned you on more. he squeezed his eyes shut as you stroked him, agonizingly slow, feeling the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. he held your hand still as a silent plea before pulling you off him completely, holding both of your hands in his as he urged you off the desk.
a gentleman, at last.
but as soon as you were standing on two feet, he spun you around with a steady hand on your hip and bent you, directly at the waist, over his desk. you gasped at the contrast, soft palms with calloused fingers pushing the small of your back until your stomach was level with the wooden surface. it was all very confusing, the way you had to bite back a moan at the force and, then, a smile as he reached around you, opening a book from the top of its stack and placing it below your face. a cushion of sorts, which you happily nestled your cheek against, the pages loved and soft.
and then you felt it- the heavy tip of his cock as euijoo pushed himself over your entrance and through your folds in slow, maddening strokes, coating himself in you and driving you up the wall in one go. he bumped your clit with every drag, hands kneading the plush of your ass as you arched into him. “still so fucking wet,” he mumbled, hissing as he made another long drag through your leaking cunt, “i’m gonna fuck you now, baby. let me know if its too much and i’ll stop, yeah? say it for me.”
“y-yes,” you breathed, the air rustling the raw edge of the page beneath your cheek. euijoo squeezed your hip, thumb pressing into your flesh as he breached your entrance at an agonizing pace, stretching and searing. your jaw went slack, hanging open with a silent cry as he slid, inch by inch, deeper inside of you, until you were sure there was no more left. and then he kept going. you reached for anything to hold onto as he split you directly in two, “fuck, yes. fuck- euijoo-”
“that’s it, baby,” he stroked the curve of your back as he bottomed out inside of you, “not so bad, was it? pretty pussy sucked me right in.” and you felt every inch of him, kissing your walls and sparking your nerves with that familiar stone-fueled fire. euijoo ground his hips against your ass, as if he could possibly go any deeper, and whined, soft and high, yet another contrast to the firm press of his hand on your hip. experimentally, you copied his movement, rolling your hips slightly, pulling forward and pushing back onto him in one short, slow stroke.
“so fucking impatient,” euijoo mumbled, sliding out of you almost entirely, leaving you empty for only a second before pushing back in, watching himself disappear between your folds, “so fucking eager.” you sank your teeth into your fist to muffle your moans, the scrape of his cock along your insides begging you to break, coaxing the most pathetic sounds out of you. and they only got worse as he snapped his hips faster, driving his cock into you in short, rapid thrusts.
“squeezing the hell out of me, doll,” he grunted, “so fucking tight, so perfect.” you clenched around him at the praise, wishing the circumstances were different and that you could hear him, really hear him. the soft grunts and gentle whines were only a fraction of what he could really give you. he was spearing into you, fingers walking up your spine and smoothing over your skin with featherlight touches. his pace was becoming relentless, as fast as he could go without the obscene sound of skin-on-skin permeating the room, but it was the firm pressure of his fingertips circling your clit that made tears prick your eyes. “feel good, baby?” he mocked you with a honey-sweet voice, “crying all over the page, smearing my ink?”
you felt the wetness roll out of the corners of your eyes and trickle into a puddle under your cheek. he didn’t even mention the drool that had accumulated from the side of your lips, fucked dumb on his desk, lurching toward his hips with every thrust to get yourself closer. “so fucking good,” you whispered, clawing at the edges of the desk to give yourself leverage, “please don’t stop, euijoo. gonna come for you.”
“come all over my cock, pretty girl,” he mumbled, pressing on your back and rubbing intense circles around your throbbing clit. his thrusts were growing sloppy, and you knew he was close, too, ready for your orgasm to milk him dry. you arched your back just right, feeling his tip swipe that perfect spot in your core over and over, like a cellist plucking the lowest note, the thickest string. you felt your second orgasm rain over you, the wire finally snapping and sending a wave tremors through your body, your legs trembling below you, jaw slack with a silent cry lodged in your throat. euijoo buried himself to the hilt inside of you, letting your fluttering pussy work his own release out of him, the warmth spreading low into your stomach. he pumped himself into you once, then twice, forcing his cum deeper into you, groaning quietly and kneading the curve of your ass. he breathed, “holy shit,” and unsheathed his softening dick from your aching cunt, leaving you empty and cold as his seed leaked down your thighs.
all you could do was lay there, just for a few minutes, catching your breath as he grabbed tissues from his desk drawer and tenderly scooped the trails of cum from your skin. he tossed the tissues into the trash and rested his hand, delicately, on the back of your head, petting your hair. you hummed, pleased with the contact, a sincere gesture. euijoo cleared his throat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, “i’m going to tell you this now because i feel like you’re too tired to be pissed at me.”
you felt your breath catch in your throat as he admitted, “half of those assignments i gave you weren’t even real; the papers just smelled like you when you brought them back to me.”
from the corner of your eye, you saw the stack of papers that brought you in here in the first place, stapled neatly on every corner and wrinkled on the edges from how tightly you clutched them to your chest as you stormed into his office. you thought about the hours wasted grading, the excess of tasks, the nights slipping away while you were stressed out of your mind. you sighed, still spent, “fuck you, euijoo.”
when i tell you i cleared my evening, silenced my notifs and kept my cats busy in the other room to read this fic, i mean it. In the history of Euijoo smut fics on tumblr, i fear this one is my end. I need everybody to script this onto my grave when i die so that i can goon in the afterlife i simply cannot live without her anymore IRFHUIERFHUYGE
favourite parts!! aka parts i will now think about at random parts of the day because this writing is a damn brainworm i never wish to get rid of
he was incredibly young, only a few years older than you, so he still knew how draining it was to be in your position. you’d applied to graduate school with the hopes of being in professor byun’s exact same position one day, droning on and on about your favorite subject matter and forcing forty-ish people to listen, or at least pretend to listen, to you ramble for three hours twice a week. so, he was very open to taking you under his wing as his teaching assistant at the beginning of the semester. you didn’t account for how distracting it would be from your studies, though, to work alongside a hot literature nerd. when i tell you i spit my juice out at the last three words, hot literature nerd my entire soul cunt heart liver everything AND THIS SPECIFIC PICTURE OF HIM AFUEGFUYEGDF I WILL JUMP
byun euijoo was a sight for sore, tired eyes. he loomed over almost everyone, shoulders broad and accentuated most days by a padded blazer. he wore thin framed glasses on the slope of his nose, the tops of which were covered, usually, by a wisped veil of brown hair, ends curling and flipping up at the base of his neck. everything about him was good; his face was sweet and soft, especially when he would smile, accentuating the supple curve of his cheeks. not to mention the warmth of his eyes, round and inviting. when i think i can calm down after one paragraph and i get hit with this ok imagery imagery imagery i am already turned on the smut hasnt even started and im turned on
professor byun nodded, the motion tousling his hair over his forehead. “well, good,” he feigned a serious, stern expression, “i need my pen.” FUCK YOU BYUN EUIJOO FUCK YOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU I CANNOT FYM YOU NEED YOUR PEN BRO TAKE MY VIRGINITY INSTEAD JEBAL
“do you think he knows he’s hot?” yuma asked, pushing the last of his lunch around in the bottom of his cardboard to-go box. you had tried for many years to learn the way yuma’s brain worked, but it became clear very quickly that there would never be any way to predict what he would say next. ok i ADORE yuma's characterization its so....HIM and i love it and him being fuma's ta is even funnier he's so sluggish cocky cat and i am in love. Also him calling out hot nerds in cardigans thing ok yuma i get it you're exposing me SHUSH
“fuck,” he dragged, barely under his breath, voice low but not low enough. either the coffee was really hot, or you were hearing something you were never meant to, something private, something you had shamefully imagined a few times when your mind would wander while he lectured. you’d watched his slender fingers coil around the whiteboard markers, scrawling who-knows-what in unreadable handwriting, tendons flexing, wrist stiff. now, you could hear the slick, ceaseless movement of his hand, coiled around his cock instead. reader better than me i would have marched in there, gotten on my knees and helped him out also did i mention the imagery because oh the imagery i am a whore on my knees SLENDER FINGER SFUERFHEUIFHYUFGUY I CAME JUST FROM HEARING THOSE WORDS HELLO please dada lemme help out plsplsplspslpsls
“you’re upset,” euijoo raised his eyebrows as he observed your behavior, like a scientist and his test subject. yes and im horny too what are we gonna do about that euijoo
“alright, so,” euijoo’s hands firmly pinched the edges of the paper, “you know poetry is all about choices. diction, imagery, meter, line breaks- the works; an explication magnifies those choices in the context of the poem, yeah? it makes the implicit explicit.” yeah yeah dicktion line cum breaks ok bro now flip me over like a turkey patty and slam your damn cock in me how am i supposed to survive horny poetry i am literally only a woman i am only a damn woman hello what the fuck explicit fym explicit euijoo i'll show you what explicit is boy
“now, in an explication, it’s all about making connections. consider the poem’s speaker, its meaning,” he slipped his fingertips under the hem of your shirt, grazing your waist with cold, nimble fingers, calloused from turning the page, from holding the pen, from gripping the leash of the dog you made up in your head. when i tell you i had to physically remind myself to breathe throughout all of this when i fucking tell you gang the ensuing paragraphs were just oh my god my clit pulsed im not kidding she spoke to me. Also the imaginary dog thing please comedy + horny poetry fucking marry me
“more?” euijoo grazed your clit with his teeth, smirking against you as your hips jerked involuntarily. why this mf asking me like its a popcorn refill yes more euijoo use me bro my puh belongs to you
“so fucking impatient,” euijoo mumbled, sliding out of you almost entirely, leaving you empty for only a second before pushing back in, watching himself disappear between your folds, “so fucking eager.” yes bro you overworked my ass and then made me read horny poetry OF FUCKING COURSE IM EAGER OF COURSE PROFESSOR I'LL HAVE YOUR FUCKING BABIES
you felt your breath catch in your throat as he admitted, “half of those assignments i gave you weren’t even real; the papers just smelled like you when you brought them back to me.” ok round two except this time i choke you and we have angry sex lets fucking go
if it wasnt evident this is a 389572389479324934382/10 i am a slut on my knees for professor byun yes i will grade all his papers i will marry him did i mention i love the imagery because i love the imagery i think it single handedly took my virginity i will now go drown myself bye
ꨄ︎ author's note : first of all a special thanks to my fav @ukiyoux who gave me this idea, and for pushing for me to actually start it lmfao. i’m pretty proud of this actually. soul is sosososo cute this suits him sm :( all support is appreciated! hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
being one of the school’s top students, you prided yourself in your non-stop studying and your best grades. there was always books piled high on your bedroom floor, sticky notes poking out between the pages with analysis scribbled on the paper. certificates and badges decorated your shelves above your bed proudly, figurines and small trinkets weaved in between.
you were extremely reliable and willing to help other students, whether that was through studies or personal situations, you didn’t mind. any chance to do a good deed, you would take it with a smile.
---
to your language professor, it was a no-brainer to approach you that friday afternoon before class, pulling you aside.
“sorry to bother you, i know class is starting soon,” he started, adjusting his tie. “i have a request for you.”
“what is it, sir?”
your professor gestured to a boy stood just behind him, hands in his pockets and his head pointed to the floor. despite his shy demeanour, his presence was eye-catching; he had light pink hair, the strands sticking out in different directions. an interesting contrast.
“this is our new foreign exchange student from japan.” he continued, his hand patting the boy’s shoulder. you watched as he shrunk further into himself at the touch. “he doesn’t speak great english, and so i was wondering if you could tutor him in your free time?”
your eyes flickered between your professor and the guy, who were both looking back at you with hopefulness. well, it wasn’t like you ever had any plans when you had time off…
“uh, yeah, i can do that.”
“great!” your teacher clapped his hands, happy at your compliance. “he has textbooks with him, just help him through the chapters and make sure he practices his handwriting too. thanks a lot for this.”
you nodded, and your professor walked to his desk at the front of the classroom, leaving you alone with the exchange student. a few beats of awkward silence passed, and you cleared your throat.
“um… well, my name is y/n. what’s yours?” you asked tentatively, unsure of how much english he understood. his brown eyes shot up to your face when you spoke.
“my name is shota.” he eventually said, his hands picking at the loose thread on his jacket sleeve. his accent wasn’t as strong as you expected it to be.
“it’s nice to meet you, shota.” you offered your hand to him to shake. he was hesitant at first, but shook your hand with a firm grip. “we can meet up tomorrow if you’d like?”
shota stared at you for a second or so before nodding, chewing on his lip. he pulled out his phone moments later, offering it to you.
“えと… your phone number? please?” he asked, eyes darting anywhere but your face. you took his phone without a word, entering your phone number and saving it. shota mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ before taking it back, shoving it into his blazer pocket. the whole interaction was painfully awkward.
“well, i’ll text you the details, okay?” you began, slowly starting to head to your seat. “see you tomorrow, shota.”
“yes, s-see you.”
---
the two of you had arranged and agreed on shota coming to your dorm room to study, considering it was quieter and would presumably be more comfortable than something like the nearby cafe.
shota would be a liar if he said he wasn’t nervous. he barely knew you, let alone the language you spoke, and to be alone with a girl was simply nerve wracking for him. however, he knew it was for the best, and you seemed sweet - the language professor yesterday was also pretty adamant on that.
it took a few seconds for you to answer the door after he knocked, and you were might with an endearing sight - shota stood in front of you, bag slung on his left shoulder, clutching his english books against his chest. his pink hair was ruffled just as you saw yesterday, only this time it fell over his face, covering his eyes.
“hi, shota. glad you could make it.” you began, stepping aside to let him in. “you’re actually kinda early.”
“oh, sorry.” he mumbled, walking in and taking his shoes off out of politeness, placing them by the door.
“it’s okay, don’t worry.” you gave him your best reassuring smile and gestured for him to follow you further inside. “well, this is my dorm.”
shota’s eyes lit up when they scanned your room. anime posters decorated the walls, figurines of characters and piles of manga collections littered the wooden shelves. a seemingly expensive monitor sat on your desk, a soft pink glow coming from the keyboard.
“you into this stuff?” you asked, pulling him from his preoccupied stare. he nodded eagerly, the corners of his lips curling into a shy grin.
“yes, i-i like it.” shota approached the shelf, pointing at your arrangement of figurines. “i have these too. i like that show.”
you beamed at your new discovery - you and shota had similar interests. score.
“really? that’s so cool.” you sat on your bed, watching as he admired your collection. he looked cute while he was geeking out, his eyes blown wide in awe and curiosity.
shota was surprised, to say the least. he didn’t expect you to be into the things he was into, but he was glad. it gave him something to talk about with you. all he needed to do now was to learn how to talk with you.
noticing your position, he sat next to you, leaving just enough space to avoid brushing shoulders. his cheeks were dusted with a light pink colour, almost the same colour of his hair.
“let’s start?” he suggested, pulling the books from his backpack.
“yeah, let’s start.”
---
an hour or so in, the two of you had become more comfortable, spread out on your bedroom floor, open books surrounding you. the only sounds in the room were the quiet buzz of the air conditioning and your humming as you marked the pages of shota’s workbook.
shota was sat cross-legged opposite you, drawing small doodles on his hand whilst he waited. when there was no space left on the back of his hand, his eyes naturally shifted in your direction. he watched you flip through the pages, pen in hand, the focused look on your face. he admired how your hair fell, draping across your shoulders; your hands and how they moved, delicate and slow as they glided across the paper; how soft and pink your lips were, slightly parted as your tongue poked out of the corner with concentration.
shota hadn’t realised how beautiful you were until now, until he had observed all of these small details he hadn’t noticed before. this sudden realisation made him curious - did he like you? or was it just simple attraction? he wasn’t sure, and didn’t want to delve into his feelings so early on in your friendship. you were his english tutor, and that was that.
right?
---
slowly but surely, shota’s feelings for you developed from platonic to romantic. he couldn’t help it, not with how kind and patient you were with him, how beautiful you were, how easy it was to just exist in your space. to shota, it only made sense that he fell for you.
---
one sunday afternoon, the two of you were going over spelling and handwriting on your floor, shoulder to shoulder with the workbook splayed out in front of you. shota was attempting to spell ‘institution’, muttering the letters to himself, when he felt your gaze on him. it wasn’t unusual that you would watch him as he wrote, but it felt a lot more suffocating when the two of you were in such close proximity. he could feel your eyes on his hand as he wrote, as if you were actually touching him, and it made him flustered. so flustered, that the pen slipped from his grip completely, rolling off of the page and onto the carpet.
“くそ...” he cursed under his breath, trying his best to hide how flushed his ears were becoming.
---
on another occasion, shota was sat on a bench just outside campus, headphones on, his english book in hand. he was in his own little world, revising the newest words and phrases he had learnt.
you were leaving one of your classes, ready to go home and study, when you spotted shota on the bench. you approached him from behind with a smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. shota made a noise of surprise, pulling his headphones and turning to look at you.
“whatcha doin’?” you asked, poking his cheek and moving to sit next to him. shota was frozen out of shock. you had hugged him, touched him. and he liked it, he liked how warm the touch made him feel despite the surprise.
“oh, um… i’m reading.” he stuttered, biting his bottom lip sheepishly. he sat quietly as you began ranting about your class, complaining about something he couldn’t understand with how fast you were speaking.
shota felt pathetic with how giddy and flustered you made him. how was he meant to survive being near you without making his feelings obvious?
---
the day he finally made some sort of move on you was thursday afternoon. you had gifted him a small box of clementine oranges as a treat for his improvement in his handwriting. the oranges were from a local market, you had told him, and were perfectly ripe - juicy and sweet. perfect. you were very proud of yourself for buying them, clearly.
the session had ran particularly long that day, longer than usual. shota’s phone read 8:25pm, and you had fell asleep well over an hour ago, slouched over on the floor, head resting on the edge of your bed. you looked so cute, so peaceful. shota spent 10 minutes just admiring you.
when you eventually woke up an hour or so later, shota was gone, books neatly stacked next to your bed. standing up, your attention was pulled to the orange in your peripheral. on your desk was half of one of the clementines, precisely cut. a note laid next to it. picking it up, you realised it was from shota.
- this was a good one. i saved half for you. たくさん食べてね！
your heart melted at the gesture. he was so thoughtful, so considerate.
---
despite there still being a language barrier between you, shota was determined to learn english. he wanted to be able to talk to you properly, understand you on a deeper level than just brief, simple sentences. he wanted to be able to confess to you. that was all he wanted.
💬 。 you are suffering from a bad case of menstruation, who's better to cure you than nurse nicholas?
masterlist 𓋰 王奕翔 x reader⠀ ✶⠀ fluffy, reader has a uterus, silly weno wc: 1270 don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.
you were curled up on the couch like a sad burrito, hoodie pulled over your head, heating pad pressed to your stomach, and a bag of half-eaten strawberry pocky lying sadly on the coffee table. the cramps were being extra dramatic today. every time you moved, it felt like someone was twisting a tiny knife in your lower belly.
your phone buzzed.
weneow 🐈⬛ ྀི : baby i’m outside, open the door pls~
you groaned, shuffling to the door in your fuzzy socks. the second you opened it, nicholas stood there in normal clothes with a suspiciously large tote bag and the brightest smile you’d ever seen.
“hi, my favorite patient,” he sang, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “i heard someone’s uterus is throwing a tantrum.”
you leaned your head against his chest, already feeling a little better just from his warmth. “it’s bad today… i didn’t even want to get up.”
“i know,” he said softly, rubbing your back. “that’s why nurse nicholas is here for a house call.”
you blinked. “nurse… what?”
he grinned, that mischievous little sparkle in his eyes, and gently pushed you back toward the couch. “go lie down. doctor’s orders. i’ll be right back.”
you obeyed mostly because walking hurt, but also because you were curious. you heard rustling in the bathroom, some muttered cursing in mandarin when something fell, and then—
the door opened.
out stepped nicholas in full nurse cosplay.
white scrubs (slightly too tight on his shoulders because he clearly bought them last-minute), a little nurse cap tilted cutely on his dark hair, a toy stethoscope around his neck, and a name tag that read “nurse weno ♡” in his own handwriting with a tiny heart and a smiley face.
he even had a little clipboard.
you burst out laughing despite the cramps. “oh my god—”
“shhh, patient,” he scolded playfully, walking over with exaggerated professional steps. “no laughing. it’s bad for your recovery.”
he crouched beside the couch so he was eye-level with you, pretending to check the clipboard.
“symptom report: extremely cute girlfriend experiencing level-10 cramps, emotional, and zero energy. treatment plan…” he tapped the pen against his chin. “immediate cuddles, chocolate medication, and one very attentive nurse who’s completely in love with you.”
your cheeks burned. “you’re ridiculous.”
“and you’re in pain,” he said, voice softening. he reached into the magic tote bag and started pulling things out like a professional. “step one: painkillers and strawberry milk because you always crave something sweet when you’re on your period.” he handed you the pills and the drink. “step two: new heating pad because yours is probably cold by now.”
he swapped the pads gently, making sure it was perfectly placed before covering you with the fluffy blanket again.
“step three…” he climbed onto the couch behind you, carefully maneuvering so your back was against his chest. his arms wrapped around your waist, one hand resting right over the heating pad, rubbing slow circles. “nurse cuddles. scientifically proven to reduce pain by 100% when the nurse is your boyfriend.”
you melted into him, eyes fluttering shut as his warmth seeped into your back. his chin rested on your shoulder, and he pressed the softest kiss to your temple.
“does it hurt a lot right now?” he asked quietly, all the playful nurse act fading into gentle concern.
you nodded a little. “it’s manageable when you’re here.”
he hummed, nuzzling your hair. “then i’m not going anywhere. i’ll stay in this ridiculous outfit all night if it makes you smile.”
“you look stupidly cute in it,” you mumbled, reaching up to touch the little nurse cap.
“yeah?” he grinned against your skin. “i practiced the pose in the mirror for ten minutes. wanted to look professional for my favorite patient.”
you laughed again, softer this time. the cramps were still there, but they felt further away with nicholas wrapped around you like a personal weighted blanket.
he reached over and grabbed the remote, putting on one of your comfort anime without asking. then he started feeding you pocky sticks one by one, dramatically acting like he was giving you “oral medication.”
“say ‘ahh’, patient.”
“you’re such a dork,” you said, but opened your mouth anyway.
he beamed every time you took one, like it was the greatest achievement of his day.
halfway through the episode, you turned your head to look at him. the silly nurse cap was crooked now, his hair messy underneath, but his eyes were so full of love it made your chest feel warm.
“nicholas?”
“hm?”
“thank you… for doing all this. you didn’t have to dress up like a nurse.”
he smiled, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. “i wanted to. when my girl isn’t feeling well, i want to make it better in the silliest, most nicholas way possible. because you always take care of me when i’m tired or stressed. now it’s my turn.”
he tightened his arms around you, voice dropping into that soft, slightly raspy tone you loved.
“i love you. period or no period. cranky or happy. i’m your personal nurse, chef, heater, and boyfriend 24/7.”
you felt tears prick your eyes—not from pain, just from how stupidly loved you felt.
“i love you too,” you whispered.
he kissed the top of your head, then your temple, then the corner of your eye where a tiny tear had escaped.
“official nurse nicholas diagnosis,” he murmured playfully against your skin, “you are going to be spoiled rotten tonight. doctor’s—i mean, nurse’s orders.”
you smiled, finally relaxing completely in his arms as another wave of cramps hit. but this time you didn’t flinch as hard.
because nurse nicholas was on duty, and he was never going to let his favorite patient suffer alone.
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: ah doctor moka can't be there do comfort u @deerhuntings so i've sent over nurse nicholas ! he'll take care of you~~ i hope this makes you feel a bit better,, i wish i could be there to help but alas i have 5 surgeries in the morning...
disclaimers: butch/femme lesbian dynamics (duh), he/him butch representation, fem!nicholas mentions (who is referred to as “coco”), uni setting, not proofread.
butch!byun euijoo who always wears snapbacks, with his sturdy hands shoved into jacket pockets, voice calm even when everyone else around him is loud, always ending up gentle-parenting them.
butch!byun euijoo who your classmate (and the bane of your existence /aff) coco introduced to you with a laugh and a warning.
“don’t use those eyes on juju too much,” coco told you during the lunch you guys shared between classes. “he falls for girls like you fast…”
he looked exhausted immediately.
“why are you like this.”
“you keep saying i’m scaring your future wife away just because we’re always attached at the hip, and you don’t put yourself out there. i speak for the people.”
butch!byun euijoo who pulls chairs out for you without making a spectacle of it, like it comes to him as easy as breathing. butch!byun euijoo who walks closest to traffic automatically whenever you are on foot. carries things because “pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to carry things,” not because he thinks you can’t on your own.
butch!byun euijoo who looked the most himself sitting on the edge of your bed with a guitar resting against his thigh while you added finishing touches to your makeup nearby, with your perfume lingering in the room while his rings clicked softly against the instrument and its’ strings. who looked most like himself when things were intimate, perhaps domestic even, between the two of you.
butch!byun euijoo, a master of feigned composure whose insides churn with emotion, sealing everything within. each compliment you give him lodges itself deep within the chambers of his heart, lingering for weeks.
especially when you call him a “handsome gentleman” while cooing at him.
that one ruins him.
butch!byun euijoo who loves being your butch before you even make anything official. he likes when you reach for his arm in public, he likes when he gets to hold doors open for you. he likes the small ritual of taking your hand while crossing streets. he likes being devoted, and the act of belonging to you before you belonged to him.
butch!byun euijoo who becomes visibly softer around you. happier, eyes turning into joyful crescents more often, more willing to lean into touch when it was from the femme who stole his heart.
butch!byun euijoo who is constantly accused of acting like your husband by coco.
“juju literally packs bento boxes for you.”
“she forgets to eat.”
“he keeps hair ties in his pocket.”
“because she needs them sometimes.”
"he also remembers your coffee order better than his own."
he only shrugs then, apples of his cheeks dusted a faint red.
butch!byun euijoo who loves initiating physical affection in his own, quaint ways. your hand in the back pocket of his jeans, your legs thrown across his lap while he played guitar absent-mindedly, the weight of your head against his shoulder after long days.
after months of relentlessly yearning for you, butch!byun euijoo finally asked you out by playing and singing your favorite love song, only to find out your feelings have been mutual all along.
butch!byun euijoo who kisses with care before anything else. one hand at your waist, the other adjusting naturally to keep you close. always tender. never rushing you, never careless with you.
butch!byun euijoo who looks at you sometimes with a stunned and affectionate look on his face even after months of you dating, like he still can’t believe you’re really his femme.
playlist three, track four: i don’t understand but i love you - 이찬
(1k words)
warnings: a lot of kissing and making out, language barrier (there’s literally two sentences being said…..), shirtless chan
a/n: i was slacking lately when it comes to writing a lil… i can only hope this is not bad!!!
i don’t understand but i love, but i love you
i don’t understand but i love, but i love you
the world outside didn’t seem to matter at all the moment chan first laid his eyes on you.
in fact, it could’ve no longer existed and he wouldn’t even notice - too enthralled by your beauty, too mesmerised with the sight of your smile, body swaying to the music playing so loud he thought his eardrums were going to pop.
he was hesitant about going on the trip abroad with seungkwan and it didn’t help that neither of them were fluent in the language spoken there. but in that moment, when your gaze fell upon his, lips curving up into a smile before you looked away, he thanked himself for agreeing to it, for booking that flight.
and now, after two weeks of stolen glances, cheeks heating up at the sight of one another, broken conversations through the little language skills he had and shared kisses under the night sky, he was completely and utterly smitten.
in his mind, he thanked seungkwan over and over again for proposing this trip. he also thanked himself for insisting they get separate rooms - especially so with your weight on his lap, his hands immediately grabbing onto your hips, grip steady as his lips stayed just inches from yours. it was almost as if he was awaiting your next move: seeing if you’d back away or lean in to close the gap, eyes roaming all over your face for any signs of your next actions.
your lips connected with his in no time and chan hummed into the kiss with satisfaction, even more so when he felt your hands in the back of his hair, tugging at it ever so lightly.
‘beautiful.’ was all he could muster up to say, and yet not enough to truly explain what you were in his eyes. it wasn’t even close - no words could ever explain just how breathtaking you were to him, how gorgeous, how utterly stunning. besides, even if the proper words to explain the extent of your beauty existed in this world, chan still wouldn’t have been able to properly use them to convey that message to you. the words that he so desperately wanted to utter to you, same words which would ultimately have to remain unsaid, the language barrier interfering with his proclamations.
but then you looked at him - gaze catching his, the soft light of the nightstand lamp providing a cozy ambiance in the room - and chan knew immediately that no words needed to be said for you to understand his intentions, understand his body, understand him.
there were things far more important than the words between you two. because for all the words that existed in this world, none of them were needed for you to see the desire in each other’s eyes, the sheer love and affection hidden behind a hungry gaze.
his grip on your waist loosened ever so slightly - fingers tracing soft patterns up and down your skin, lips trailing down your jaw and neck to test your reaction, satisfied at the sudden gasp you let out. your hands trailed down to his shirt, swiftly working their way down each button, movements quick and slightly shaky, which chan couldn’t help but find endearing. and, being the gentleman that he was, of course he helped you take his shirt off of him: sliding it off of his arms in one swift motion, his naked torso burning hot under your fingertips.
his smile turned almost cocky with the way your eyes lingered on his body for just a second longer than necessary, taking in the sight of his toned muscles, the way his arms flexed when he adjusted his grip on your hips, the faint outline of his abs.
your lips were back on his in no time - this time slower, and yet somehow more hungry than ever. your arms wrapped around his neck as you scooted closer, torso touching his, doing your best to be as close to him as possible.
maybe you two couldn’t understand each other with words, but what was a language barrier when faced with true human desire and an ever growing wave of emotion? in that moment, none of it mattered: it was just you and him, bodies tangled together, lips stuck to each other like the mere idea of them being apart for more than a second would bring you harm.
you felt his grip tightened on your hips as chan picked you up, switching the position so that you’d be laying down on the bed, his own body hovering above you as he leaned down to kiss you once more, one hand used to steady himself and make sure his body weight wouldn’t fall onto you, while the other reached out to caress your face ever so gently - thumb tracing slow, delicate circles on the side of your cheek.
you said something in the heat of the moment - voice barely above a whisper, words uttered in between kisses. he understood nothing of it, your native language a foreign one to him: he could only look at you, his expression just the slightest bit puzzled as if he was trying to decipher what you could’ve possibly meant. what could’ve possibly been this important that you’ve said it out loud despite knowing well your words would not receive a proper answer from him.
he forgot about it soon, the moment you reached to lock your lips with his, his tongue darting along your lower lip as if searching for permission to deepen the kiss. you let him - tongues tangled in a passionate dance as you pulled his body as close as humanly possible.
he leaned away for just a split second, his forehead touching yours, a quiet mumble leaving his lips before they were on yours once more.
‘i don’t understand.’ he murmured softly in the short pause. ‘but i love you.’
i am such a yearner for love beyond the barrier of language and I'm pretty sure this fic was crafted to seep into my soul and plant flowers there I cannot even gang kill me kill me kill me
there were things far more important than the words between you two. because for all the words that existed in this world, none of them were needed for you to see the desire in each other’s eyes, the sheer love and affection hidden behind a hungry gaze. like hello wdym no words will be enough to describe our love wdym wdym love is a language of its own. This song itself is such DESIRE and aergefuygufg yeah i have no words THIS IS MY MOST FAVOURITE PARAGRAPH FROM THE ENTIRE FIC
ꨄ︎ warnings : enemies to ???, a lot of bickering, skinship, kissing, cursing, lowercase intended
ꨄ︎ word count : 3k
ꨄ︎ author’s note : debut p1harmony fic!!! can u tell i started watching haikyu recently (ty nika)… this is the last fic i’ll be posting for a little while - i’m taking a brief break to let myself relax, i’ve been writing constantly for so long i think i deserve it. promise i’ll be back better than ever :) all support is appreciated. hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
ִֶָ. ..𓂃currently playing: my moon my man - feist ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
⠀⠀ ⠀ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 황인탁ᰍ໋ ۫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹⠀ 𓈒 読む⸝⸝ ⟡
it wasn’t rare for your name to be put next to the guy that had always matched your level of skill - hwang intak. the two of you were a notorious duo, known for your extremely over-the-top-and-borderline-unnecessary rivalry. despite both of you playing for the university’s separate volleyball teams, you two always managed to make everything a competition.
on the men’s team, hwang intak, aka number 2, was the university’s top setter, known for his powerful, accurate sets and charming looks. you only saw his cocky attitude and his obsession with his hair.
you on the other hand, were the top outside hitter on the women’s team, sporting number 3 on your shirt. your high-volume hits and fast reflexes were the talk of the sports club committees. intak only saw your over-competitiveness and that loud, jarring voice of yours that echoed in the sports hall.
“is there an off-button on that mouth of yours?” he teased you during combined practice one time, after you had shouted guidance to your teammate busy with drills.
“shut up, intak.” you huffed, shoving him with your hand. intak simply giggled, jogging back to his own group on the other side of the gym.
he’d pick on you for being shorter than him, you’d retaliate with an attack to his egotistical attitude. as usual.
your arguments ranged from spewed insults to hyperbolic competitiveness, comparing points scored in tournaments - even if they were completely separate competitions, women’s and men’s. it didn’t matter. intak had to beat you, and then you had to one-up him.
the university’s top athletes - unfortunately destined to be enemies on the court.
---
tuesday morning’s practice was in full swing, your team located on the right of the gymnasium, busy with pass-and-move relays, whilst the guys were scattered on the left, most practicing serves and receives. none of the players noticed the coaches walk in, clipboards in hand.
“listen up, everyone!” the women’s team coach yelled over the chaos. everyone turned, dropping whatever they were doing to listen. you turned too, wiping the sweat from your brow.
“we have an announcement.”
you glanced at your teammates, sharing an intrigued look with them.
“the university’s been invited to another tournament.” a few enthusiastic cheers were heard from the players, excitement settling over the crowd. “however, this tournament is different.”
“how is it different?” one of the girls asked.
“it will be a mixed tournament. both boys and girls on one team.” she said. “the board is trying something new.”
the silence that followed was deafening. you were all shocked to say the least. a mixed tournament? this was new to you, these types of matches weren’t common. how would it even work?
“as long as y/n is on the bench, i’m happy to play.” a voice called from the crowd. that annoying, cocky voice that you’d unfortunately recognise anywhere. hwang intak. of course.
“shut up, hwang.” you snapped back, huffing. the coaches both sighed simultaneously. they were right in expecting the two of you to be reluctant at first.
“both of you will be on the team. we need to use your skills together.”
“together?” the two of you said at the same time. you were pissed that they were trying to force you to get along with that idiot. intak was nothing but trouble.
“don’t act all surprised. you’re some of our top players.” the men’s team coach added. “when the two of you work together, i’m sure the results will be great.”
the coaches eventually dismissed everyone back to practice, but you stood in place, frozen. you almost couldn’t believe what you had just been told. the two of you? on the court? working together? the thought made you cringe.
“y/n, come on. help me set up for the next drills.” your teammate called, grabbing a volleyball and beckoning you over with her other hand. you nodded, walking over to the group. but there was one thing on your mind.
this was going to be interesting.
---
practice for the upcoming tournament was hectic, to say the least. you were called to the sports hall practically every day. the hours dragged, long and dreadful, your body exhausted and sore. but none of that was worse than having to put up with intak constantly.
“don’t tell me you’re already tired?” intak would tease you during break, his hair damp with sweat as he stretched a few feet away from you. “we’ve barely started. are you sure you’re good enough for this?”
“quit it, you jerk. i’m fine.” you murmured, eyes sharpening into a glare in his direction. he simply chuckled, shaking his head and walking off. that idiot always knew how to wind you up.
as time passed, the tension within the team grew rapidly, with everyone being stressed about the comp. the list of rival universities taking part was relatively short, but many of those teams had beat yours before, and by a landslide score. this meant everyone was determined to improve this time around - and that’s why the arguments began to grow more common, exhaustion and anxiety rising to the surface the more the players practiced; and the more you had to spend time with intak.
---
the mixed team had been practicing together for just over a week now, but it had felt more like a lifetime for you. the hours stretched into what felt like years.
everyone was currently doing pass-set-hit drills, shouts of guidance and support echoing off the walls.
luck wasn’t on your side today, your hits lacking the oomph they usually had, either not making it over the net or missing the court lines completely.
it was your fourth miss when intak strolled over, squatting next to you. you were preparing yourself for a teasing insult, another snarky comment about your irrelevance in the team.
“intak, i’m not in the-“
“you need to put more power into those hits. try to awing your arm back a little further.”
you glanced up at him, not expecting those words to fall from his mouth. it wasn’t exactly nice, but he wasn’t making fun of you this time around. he had given you constructive criticism. you could see the seriousness on his face, his eyes fixed on yours. intak wasn’t playing around.
“…yeah, i know. i’ll work on it.” you muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead and standing up. intak stayed squatting at the side of the net, watching you walk back onto the court.
you resumed practice, intak’s advice replaying in your head. a few more attempts, and you had managed to hit the ball harder, the arm swing actually helping with increasing your power. it was annoying to admit intak was right.
unbeknownst to you, intak’s eyes followed your every movement, flickering from your hand position, to your arm movement, to your pretty face-
he turned his head away immediately when he realised he was staring, releasing a large sigh before heading onto the court. don’t get distracted, he thought to himself. the tournament was starting soon, and he couldn’t afford to get mixed up with anything. especially not with you of all people.
---
it was the beginning of may, and the tournament had begun - the first game had just started. you had shared an intense look with intak just as the whistle started, as if to say ‘don’t fuck this up, hwang’. you were not ready to lose.
the game was in full swing, and you were locked in, eyes glued to the ball and it’s movement around the court. you had scored a few points already and were feeling good.
intak, on the other hand, was struggling. not with receiving passes, not with setting the ball perfectly and accurately for the hitters, but with you. he didn’t know what had came over him today, but he couldn’t manage to stop his eyes from drifting to you.
the ball was in the air, the libero, jiung, having just passed it in his direction. intak had his hands ready to receive and set it, when he saw you in his peripheral vision, moving across the floor quickly to stand near by.
his eyes caught yours, and his body seemed to freeze in place. the ball skimmed his hands, and dropped to the floor. the referee blew the whistle, signalling a point for the opposing team, and the players erupted into a loud, infuriated mess.
“intak, what the fuck man?!” jiung yelled, his arms lifted in frustrated shock.
“you need to lock in. we can’t lose on our first match.” the middle blocker added. intak shook his head, letting out a groan. what the hell was wrong with him? why was he getting distracted? and why was it you that was distracting him?
“shit, i’m sorry. it won’t happen again.” he muttered, a few more angry comments being made before the players took their positions again.
“focus, hwang.” he heard you say, your voice stern. he glanced over at you. “don’t let the team down.”
intak simply nodded and turned back to the net, not daring to utter a word to you. he didn’t know what had come over him, but there was a new sort of tension between the two of you now. and intak had a slight idea that you could feel it too.
it was only a matter of time before it became too much for intak to handle.
---
progressing through the tournament, it was now the semi-finals. it was getting more serious now, and you could feel the intensity heightening. the team hadn’t spoke at all on the coach to the venue, no jokes or laughter. everyone was locked in.
it was clear that the pressure was getting to some of the players, including you, due to the amount of mistakes being made.
the libero didn’t dive fast enough, the ball sneaking past the blockers before they could stop it - and worst of all, your attacks weren’t hard enough. the power just wasn’t there.
thankfully, you’d somehow managed to pull through and win 3 of the 5 sets, barely winning by a few points in the most recent. there was a mix of relief and frustration in the air once the game was over, a lot of players disappointed in their performance.
---
intak approached you in the hallway by the locker room, as you were chugging from your water bottle. he looked pissed, to say the least - his arms folded, eyebrows knitted together, eyes shooting daggers into you.
“y/n.” he said, his voice cold. you pushed your hair back from your face, glancing up at him.
“what?”
“you almost made us lose today.”
you sighed. of course he was here to complain.
“don’t start that shit now. we still won.” you folded your arms, copying him. “besides, you made mistakes yourself.”
intak growled, moving to stand directly in front of you now, towering over you.
“what did i tell you about your arm? you have to swing it back further for more power.” intak’s expression was dark, the anger evident.
“what do you know about being a hitter, huh?” you barked back, lifting your hand to shove him back slightly. “stay in your own lane, hwang.”
intak got impossibly closer after the shove, your back touching the locker room door. he wasn’t giving up.
“watch your mouth, number 3.”
“no. you need to watch yours, number 2.” you snapped back, a finger poking into his chest. “i’m done with you bossing everyone aroun-“
before you could finish your sentence, intak slammed his lips against yours, the kiss harsh, knocking the air from your lungs. you pushed him off quickly, a sound of surprise escaping you.
the two of you stood there looking at each other for a moment. neither of you said anything, the tension sizzling hot between you. impossible to deny, impossible to ignore.
his lips were back on you quickly, his calloused hands gripping your waist. your hands bury themselves into his damp hair, tugging at the dark strands. intak let out a deep groan at the sensation, pushing you back into the locker room, door swinging shut behind him.
your back hit the cold tiles of the wall, cool against your hot skin. intak’s body was pressed into your own, his lips basically attacking yours. the hatred and rivalry between you was evident in how you kissed, both of you fighting for dominance over the other.
“you’re so… frustrating…” he whispered between kisses, fingers digging into your hips. “n-never know when to… shut up.”
your tongue slipped past his lips to keep him quiet, exploring his mouth. you didn’t know why you were kissing him or even why you were letting any of this happen. you hated hwang intak, didn’t you?
the touches and kisses were aggressive, heated, nothing short of desperate. something in the way intak held you made you think he had been wanting to do this for a while. that it wasn’t just an accident, or something he did on a whim. but it wasn’t like you were any better. your tongue was down his throat.
you both pulled away after a few minutes, panting and sweaty. intak stared at your swollen lips for a moment, before shutting his eyes tight.
“fuck,” he cursed under his breath, a hand running through his hair. “i don’t know why i just did that.”
you stay quiet, catching your breath. your hands dropped from his neck, landing at your sides. his hand was quick to follow, leaving your hip and getting shoved into his short pocket.
he stepped back, moving to the exit. hand on the door, intak turned to look at you.
“don’t… don’t think this means anything.” he chewed on his lip before continuing. “i still hate you.”
“…y-yeah. i hate you too.” you answered, trying your best to sound disinterested, like you weren’t freaking out on the inside.
with that, intak sighed and left the locker room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
you had just kissed hwang intak, your sworn enemy. one of the worst things you could’ve done.
what was even worse though, is that you liked it.
---
a few days had passed since the incident and it was finally the final match. the big game. the whole team was filled with jitters. one of the guys, keeho, had even thrown up on the way there. he swore it was just travel sickness, but you all knew the real reason.
the venue was huge, and there was a surprisingly large crowd - most were here for the opposing team, a popular university known for their skilled volleyball players. it was nerve-wracking just looking at them stretching together, 12 giants on the other side of the court.
the whistle blew a few minutes later, and the game began.
---
your team was doing shockingly good, leading the match with 2 sets won so far - 1 more and you’d win the whole thing. it seemed unreal.
you and intak were finally finding a flow of working together, your skills pairing perfectly. was it because of the kiss? had that changed your dynamic? you didn’t know. all you knew was that your quick attacks were helping rack up the points, intak’s accurate sets and your powerful hits forming an unstoppable force.
another point scored by your team, and intak’s hand squeezed your shoulder briefly, a silent ‘good job’. the touch sent a shiver down your spine.
“is it just me or are they actually getting along now?” one of the benched setters, theo, whispered to the other players on the sidelines. it seemed that everyone had noticed the change in how the two of you were treating each other. the other players agreed, intrigued by the switch up.
they assumed it was probably just because you wanted to win the finals.
yes… it was definitely that.
---
another perfect attack from you and intak and the game was all over, the whistle blowing and your team erupting into excited cheers and hugs.
your eyes found intak’s immediately, a silent conversation shared between the two of you.
you jogged over to him, a small grin appearing on his flushed face.
“we, um… we did good back there.” you spoke, not really sure what to say now that you were actually talking to him. intak chuckled.
“yeah, we did.” he brushed his hand through his hair. “good job.”
“you too, intak.”
---
the sky outside was a pink-orange blend when the team left the venue, your coach carrying the trophy proudly. the players were all deep into their conversations, loud chatter and laughter filling the air.
you were walking behind the group, the breeze cold against your bare arms. a shiver ghosted through your body as you felt a warm material draped over your shoulders.
“should’ve brought your jacket, idiot.” intak chuckled, his team jacket now covering your skin. it was warm. he had probably just taken it off himself.
“yeah yeah, i know.”
walking beside him, a comfortable silence resting between you, intak’s hand brushed yours faintly. his pinky linked with yours.
“y’know…” he began, breaking the silence. you glanced up at him. “you’re not so bad.”
intak’s words made you smirk, a wave of pride washing through you. your elbow nudges his side gently.
I CRASHED OUT SO HARD OVER THIS WRJHEIUDRYEHU INTAKKKKK please his persona was so well written i adora and dont even get me started on the banter I'll never stfu
Favourite parts!!
your arguments ranged from spewed insults to hyperbolic competitiveness, comparing points scored in tournaments - even if they were completely separate competitions, women’s and men’s. it didn’t matter. intak had to beat you, and then you had to one-up him. I have a weird affinity to this paragraph idk why and yes intak get ready bitch im gonna defeat you
don’t get distracted, he thought to himself. the tournament was starting soon, and he couldn’t afford to get mixed up with anything. especially not with you of all people. internal dialogue you will always be my beloved
his lips were back on you quickly, his calloused hands gripping your waist. your hands bury themselves into his damp hair, tugging at the dark strands. intak let out a deep groan at the sensation, pushing you back into the locker room, door swinging shut behind him. when i tell you i gasped i GASPED i was NAWT OK AT THIS PART giggled like a damn maniac intak groaning yes yes yes
“should’ve brought your jacket, idiot.” intak chuckled, his team jacket now covering your skin. it was warm. he had probably just taken it off himself. :((((( INTAK I'LL KISS YOU BRO SQUARE UP BRO
Ever since you moved to this murky little town, where most of the houses are owned by the ‘wolves’ (what ever the fuck that means), you’ve found yourself checking over your shoulder every few minutes, even inside your own home. Especially there, the tacky place that you managed to rent for far too cheap. Supposedly, someone died there…
…or was mauled, by an unknown creature.
You told yourself the landlord was bullshitting yet, the gnawing sense of dread never seems to leave you.
After a long shift at the dingy library, you rush home, the sun went down hours ago. The wind bites at your skin. Your teeth chatter uncontrollably. Your feet pick up the pace as you enter the alleyway, the one that you have to take, to walk through, to get home…the one that leads to the forest. Wrapping your arms around yourself, hugging, grounding. Heels clicking against the concrete. The trees loom closer.
Then…
a low vicious growl.
You freeze.
Chest now heaving, you swallow the lump in your throat, looking into the dark forest, something stares back at you that you can’t quite make out. Two bright glowing orbs, lights? No?
…eyes.
You scuffle back
thwack
Your back hits something solid, your shaky eyes look up, a meek squeal leaves you.
“Y/n?”
The figure tilts his head at you, “what are you doing out so late?”
The familiarity of your neighbour’s rich, velvet voice soothes you.
“E-euijoo?”
His tall slender build moves to look at you, a cigarette balanced lazily between his fingers. You step back cautiously, his ravenous eyes taking in your doe ones. A smirk etches on his face, canines barring.
“You know…”
He steps closer. Lowering himself to meet your gaze. His voice drops down an octave.
“I’d hate for my pretty little neighbour to get hurt because she can’t follow curfew.”
His long fingers tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “n-no! i-was at work…i just…”
“You just what?!…”
He tilts his head.
“Hmm?”
The silence stretches.
“You know what happens to girls who don’t listen. Naughty girls?”
He pauses.
“They get punished”
Tears well at your eyes, hand coming up to clutch his shirt feebly “E-euijoo, i swear, i’m just trying to get home.” His eyes darken at the formation of gloss at your beautiful huge eyes, his thumb roughly drags against your cheek, his brow raises mockingly. “Then let’s get you home.” His hand wraps around your arm, gripping but not entirely enough to hurt just yet.
Your feet drag against the forest floor, branches snapping at every step. “Eh…euijoo, this isn’t the way home…”
His grip on you tightens, his nails digging into your arm now.
“Ow! That hurts…let go!”
He stops.
Slowly.
He turns, closing in on you.
Your spine hits the rough bark of a tree. Caging you in, his large veiny hand braces beside your head.
“Y/n…”
His voice rough, sounding more like a growl.
His thumb drags against your bottom lip, nowhere near gentle, just enough pressure to make you flinch.
“I’m trying to be patient with you.”
His grip tightens, his strength inhumane. Your chest heaves, his hazy eyes staring down at you, pinning you against the tree.
“Don’t make me forget that.”
“What if i want you to forget?”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. His thumb presses harder onto your lip, dragging it down slightly before letting go. He shifts closer, his entire front against yours.
His smirk so wide, his sharp teeth glint in the moonlight. “Oh yeah?”
“You wouldn’t last a second, sweetheart”
Your fingers tremble against his shirt, the feeling of his entire front making you squirm, he can practically taste your arousal. “I-i’m not afraid of you.” He laughs, amused, his broad shoulders shake. Immediately, his eyes narrow as he tilts his head at you again; a habit that he’s made up when he studies his prey. “You’re so adorable…but so very wrong.”
Suddenly he pushes your wrists above your head, pinning you to the tree. “You think because you’re so wet you can take me?”
His voice drops. Lips pressed against your tear, “oh sweet girl, you’re dumber than i thought you were.”
His lips move down to your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then your neck.
Then…
His teeth bare, sinking down without warning, a shrill escapes your throat, blood cascading down your body. You can feel him smirk against your neck, as he rips himself away from you. Writhing in his hold, his hands still holding you down.
“Still think you can handle it now?”
“You stupid little deer”
He pulls back momentarily to look at your face, brows furrowed, cheeks stained with tears. He licks a long stripe against your neck, gathering the blood on his tongue.
“Tell you what…let’s play a little game.”
“A-a game?”
“Yes! A game!”
His voice booms through the forest, your shoulders flinch, as he moves closer, if that was even possible. His face so close to your own.
“O-okay…”
He yanks you forward by your long locks, gripping your head into his chest. “Good girl.” He growls.
“Hmm…how about hide and seek? Except if i find you…you’re dead.”
Your head snaps up to look at him, that bastard smirk still adjourned onto his face. “W-what?”
He lets out a loud laugh, booming “god, you’re so thick, i’m not going to kill you princess.”
He pauses.
“I’ll just…
…take what’s mine”
He shoves you back against the tree,
“Hide”
Fear twists in your stomach, your legs tremble but, you force them to move, darting behind a cluster of trees. Brambles graze your arms and legs, your heart hammering as if it might pop out. Adrenaline courses through you. You hear his footsteps. He’s not running, not chasing. Just moving. Slow, calculated.
“This is too easy, y/n!” He calls out, voice echoing softly.
You squeeze your eyes shut, clasping your palm over your mouth, muzzling your sounds. A soft growl reaches your ears. The tears fall faster and harder, still keeping your eyes closed. His voice cuts through.
“Y/n~”
An electric shiver runs down your spine. He’s much closer than before but, you still can’t see him. Your foot moves slowly, careful not to make a sound but, your hair gets caught on a branch, ripping a yelp from your throat.
“Gotcha.”
His claws pull you back, gripping into your waist.
“My, my, what a treat i’ve found.” His voice rough, low, coursing through your veins. “What ever shall i do with you now?”
His grip like iron, shoving you against the forest floor, your palms digging into nature’s flesh, “mm-e-euijoo, p-please.”
Staring down, his eyes boring into your soul, “please what huh?” “Stop?”
He crouches in front of you, his hands caressing your bare thighs, inching closer and closer to your clothed cunt under your dress.
“You want me to stop?”
His words don’t mirror his actions, his fingers prancing around the waistband of your panties. He takes in a deep breath.
“Fuckkk, i can smell you from here,” one finger dips into the band, prodding at your clit. “So, so sweet”
You squirm in his grasp, attempting to shut your legs, whimpering at the sensation of his finger. He digs his claws into your thighs, anger spreading across his soft features.
“Don’t you dare”
“I found you, now it’s time for my reward.”
You let out a prey-like whimper, blood pooling down your legs as he releases his nails, and his other hand from your pants.
“You’ve upset me now…so no prep for you”
His large paw grips your head flipping you onto your stomach, ripping his pants off, your panties next to go. He slaps his hand against your ass cheek, leaving a deep, red mark.
“Fuck!” you squeal.
He lands another harsh blow, “watch your mouth pretty girl.”
His fingers snake into your hair, pushing you further into the dirt. His mouth salivates at the sight of you, lining up his cock he throttles straight into you. Grunting ferociously at the way you take him. “God, you’re so fucking tight.” He growls, rutting his hips at an inhuman pace. Your nails dig into the dirt, the feeling of him hitting your cervix drives you mad. His grip on your waist bruising, you’re covered in blood and dirt but, it turns on him on even more.
Pounding relentlessly, he howls, the moon glinting in his eyes. “so tight- good f’me, you’re going to take my knot like the good girl you are.” The growing bulge in your stomach swells, his release threatening. His fingers moves with precision, shoving them into your mouth, gathering your spit, he swivels them around before retreating with a loud ‘pop’. Diving them against your clit, forcing your release. Your legs thrash violently, the pain stings, from his bite mark, his scratches, from his large cock pumping in and out of you.
And then,
He releases his entire knot into you, your eyes roll into the back of your head and you swear you can see the stars, your skin on fire. He moans out as he keeps rutting against you.
His movements are slower now but, he doesn’t pull out. Instead, he moves you back onto him, cradling your body into his large arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“You’re so perfect. All mine.” He coos.
His sudden softness gives you whiplash yet, you’re too fucked out to care, nuzzling your face into his chest.
You knew this town was cursed from the start. Perhaps you should have left when you had the chance.
warnings: fluff!!! mentions of dead fictional characters (and the character’s dog), this is just silly and stupid, crying
a/n: izzy this one’s for u bcs i love you and ur my favourite nicho stan ever. enjoy, angel <3
the apartment was quiet when nicholas came back, only a soft hum of the tv being heard from deeper inside as he locked the door behind himself with a satisfying click. he shook his shoes off, hand propped on the wall for balance, taking his coat off right after. it was a long day - all he wanted to do was finally change into something comfortable and get some rest.
and cuddle with his beloved, of course.
he moved swiftly towards the area of the living room, the faint sounds of whatever movie or tv show you were watching intensifying, growing louder with each step. the closer he got to you the more he heard - and only after taking a particular amount of steps did he realise the tv wasn’t the only thing making noise in that living room. you were too.
you were crying.
that was certainly a sound he wasn’t expecting to hear from you - although you haven’t seen each other for the entirety of the day, due to the long work hours, you seemed pretty joyous and cheerful over text. his brows furrowed in slight concern, taking the remaining few steps needed to find himself at the edge of the couch, perfectly in your line of view.
‘angel, is everything… alright?’ he asked, his voice dripping with worry as he towered above you, still standing up to assess the situation - whether you wanted comfort or space, what the reasoning behind your current state was. you looked up at him, gaze meeting his, and somehow despite crying you still looked like the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen.
your eyes were glossy and just slightly puffy, faint lines of where tears ran down your cheeks still visible on your skin. your lips were curved downwards in the biggest frown nicholas has ever seen from you - an alarming thought considering that he still wasn’t aware of what brought you to this point.
you took a deep breath in, inhaling the air slowly, as if trying to calm yourself down - and then you dropped the bomb.
‘my favorite character just died.’ you sobbed quietly, reaching for the remote to pause the show. ‘and they killed his dog, too! can you believe it? whoever thought doing that was a good idea for the plot is a moron and i hate them with a burning passion.’
nicholas couldn’t help the smile creeping up onto his lips, the quietest chuckle escaping his mouth. and yet despite it being barely audible, you caught it immediately. what followed was another wave of sobs.
‘you think i’m stupid for crying over a fictional character.’
‘hey, hey, come on. i haven’t said that.’ he argued, hands put up in a defeated motion as he slowly sat down on the other end of the couch, inching closer to you very carefully. ‘you’re putting words in my mouth.’
‘but you laughed.’ you frowned, a sniffle following your words as you turned your head away from him.
‘because you’re adorable.’ he mumbled, body now just centimeters away from yours.
‘flattery will get you nowhere, wang yixiang.’
‘how about cuddles and a sweet treat to go with it?’
nicholas carefully watched how your expression softened, eyes glimmering with a hint of curiosity. you let yourself ponder over his offer for a few seconds - looking deep in thought, a sight which he could only describe as the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.
‘that depends on what sweet treat you’re talking about.’ you finally answered, and your boyfriend’s smile only widened, almost as if he’d already knew the reaction that would follow when he’d tell you the answer.
‘strawberry milkshakes.’
your head shot up almost immediately, already excited. nicholas couldn’t help but laugh - smile bright and wide, his prediction on what your reaction would be turning out nothing short of the truth. he thanked himself in his head for grabbing a few store bought strawberry milkshakes on his last grocery run - making sure to hide them in the far back of the fridge for special emergencies (by which he meant days when he’d find you in a bad mood). He knew they were your favorite, after all: a detail which had stayed in his mind ever since your first date.
nicholas knew you very well - sometimes you wondered whether he’d actually known you better than you did yourself. he remembered everything, from your birthday and the moles on your body to the fact that all it took to calm you down was your favorite drink and a promise of cuddles.
he settled down on the couch, head resting comfortably on the pillows behind him as you nuzzled into him, still in a sitting position. You extended the blanket towards him and he happily took it - covering his frame with the material, the warmth of your body hitting him all of a sudden. his muscles, tensed up from a tiring day at work, seemed to ease up almost immediately, as if merely a single touch from you was enough to bring him and his body peace.
‘let’s watch something else, hm?’ he offered, hand coming up to sneak behind your waist. ‘maybe that cooking show we started last week? i think they posted a new episode yesterday.’
‘the one with really bad cooks?’
nicholas nodded.
‘no dying characters, nothing to cry over. just some atrocious cooks making inedible meals to lift your mood up.’ he elaborated, remote already in hand as he searched up the show. you agreed with a quiet nod - a smile gracing your lips as your head rested atop his shoulder, breathing syncing up with his as his chest rose and fell in unison with yours.
time seemed to pass differently with nicholas around - what was truly a couple of hours and almost a dozen of the show’s episodes felt more like mere minutes, your mind not occupied on the time and instead focused solely and wholeheartedly on your boyfriend’s presence.
you managed to change positions in the meantime - with him laying down on his side, arms wrapped around your frame as you nuzzled into him, facing his chest. his touch was careful and gentle, his fingers tracing patterns on the skin of your back and sides. the tv seemed to be only a background noise for you at this point: too sleepy and tired to process whatever was happening on the screen behind you, too comfortable laying in your boyfriend’s embrace to care about anything else.
nicholas shifted himself just slightly, moving his body further into the couch, then gently pulled you in closer to make sure you won’t be too close to its edge - your torso now pressed against his, no space left between your tangled up bodies. his eyes looked down to meet yours, face leaning in to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips: following it with one to each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead and then, finally, the top of your head.
he carefully reached for the remote to turn the tv off.
‘you must be tired, angel.’ he murmured, voice low and quiet, almost as soothing as the feel of his hands on your body. ‘shouldn’t we head to bed?’
a hum escaped your lips as you opened one of your eyes, nodding in response. nicholas smiled softly.
‘will you continue cuddling me when we’re there?’ you asked, words slightly mumbled.
‘oh of course.’ he answered, one of his hands moving up to caress the side of your face, taking the few loose strands of hair away from your face in the process. ‘i’ll even carry you there myself, bridal style. you won’t have to lift a finger.’
even in your half asleep state, you still smiled at your boyfriend’s words - moving just slightly towards him, lips meeting his for a quick moment.
‘i love you.’ you murmured, eyes closed as your hands wrapped loosely around his frame. nicholas pulled you closer, already preparing himself to stand up.
thinking abt calm fuu fucking his hyper gf till she calms down
you’d been a storm all evening in your shared apartment—blasting music while cooking badly, rearranging the living room on a whim, and rambling at top speed about three different projects. fuma had just gotten home from work, still in his button-up with sleeves rolled up, watching you with that calm, half-amused look.
“baby,” he said quietly, setting his bag down. “you’re spiraling again.”
you grinned, still bouncing. “i’m fine! i just—”
he crossed the room, caught you by the waist, kissed you deep, then spun you around and bent you over the back of the couch.
your chest hit the cushions, ass up, legs spread by his knee. fuma’s big hand slid up your spine and pressed firm on the back of your head, keeping your cheek pinned to the pillow.
“fuu—wait—”
“no.” his voice stayed low and steady. “you’ve been running on fumes all day. now you’re gonna let me fix that.”
he yanked your shorts and panties down. you heard his belt, the slow zip, then the thick head of his cock nudged your soaked pussy and pushed in—slow, deep, stretching you wide in one long stroke.
you moaned loud into the cushion as he bottomed out, hips flush against your ass. fuma didn’t rush. he started those heavy, deliberate thrusts—pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, grinding against that spot that made your eyes roll.
his hand stayed heavy on the back of your head, the other gripping your hip, holding you right where he wanted. the wet slap of skin filled the apartment, mixing with your broken whimpers.
“too much?” he asked calmly, still fucking you harder—despite your dazed whines and shaking body, you shook your head under his palm, pushing back desperately.
fuma hummed, leaning over you, lips brushing your ear. “good. take it until all that noise in your head disappears.”
every deep thrust pushed the hyperactivity out of you. your legs trembled, fists clutching the couch, drool soaking the pillow.
the pressure on your head, the thick drag of his cock, the steady rhythm melted you down until you were soft and quiet, only small needy sounds left.
fuma kissed the side of your neck, still buried deep, rolling his hips slow and filthy.
“there she is,” he murmured, satisfied. “my calm girl.”
ꨄ︎ warnings : teasing (obviously), k punches someone, skinship, kissing
ꨄ︎ word count : 900 (roughly)
ꨄ︎ author’s note : this for all the short girls out there…. i wish 😖 this is just a lil something to feed u whilst i’m on my “break”. i’m not too happy with the ending but it’s whatever… i’ll probably be back rather soon because i’ve cooked up a lot of ideas already. all support is appreciated! hope u enjoy jokitties 🪽
ִֶָ. ..𓂃currently playing: real man - beabadoobee ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
⠀⠀ ⠀ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 古賀祐大ᰍ໋ ۫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹⠀ 𓈒 読む⸝⸝ ⟡
having a giant boyfriend that towered over you at a proud 186cm had both its pros and cons.
on one hand, his long limbs were great for wrapping around you in the early hours of the morning, engulfing your small body in his big arms, his warmth. as well as this, kei’s body was toned beyond belief, and you were glad that he was okay with your constant gawking.
on the other hand, the relatively large height gap was free range for kei’s teasing. he was relentless with it, constantly finding a way to bring it up.
like when you’re in the kitchen together, kei leaning against the counter on his phone, you busy looking for ingredients for dinner. when you can’t reach the cupboard above you, fingertips barely brushing the bottom, kei chuckles and appears behind you.
“need some help, hmm?” he taunts, chest pressing against your back as he effortlessly reaches and opens the cupboard. “so tiny.”
“i’m not tiny!” you say in defense, pouting as he passes you the spices.
“whatever you say, hun.” kei chuckles, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
or late evenings when kei works late, you search through his side of the closet, finding one of his shirts - one that had his scent embedded in the material. you’d use his huge frame to your advantage, pulling the shirt over your head. it was so big on you that it looked like a dress, a reminder of his large presence. climbing into bed, it felt like it was him that was wrapped around you instead. when he gets home, dropping his bag by the door, a smirk appearing on his lips when he sees you.
“you’re practically drowning in my shirt, baby.” he teases, loosening his tie as he climbs onto the bed next to you. it was embarrassing but true - his clothes were way too big for you. but they were comfy, and they were his, and that’s all that matters to you at the end of the day.
---
it was friday night, and the two of you were at a night club in the city center. the atmosphere was buzzing, hectic and hot. the air smelled of alcohol and cheap perfumes. you were in the crowd of people dancing, moving to the music whilst your boyfriend was at the bar getting drinks.
the dance floor was packed, but there was just enough room for you to move without bumping into people. the music was loud, blaring over every other sound, and you were in your own untouchable bubble. that was, until you felt a sturdy frame pressed up against your back.
“hey, you’re back-” you began, expecting to see kei when you turned around. your smile dropped when you realised it was a random guy, smirking at you.
“hi there.” the guy started, leaning down. “what are you doing in a place like this, hm? you look too young.”
“what?” you asked, stepping back. a wave of confusion washed over you. the guy took a step forward, not letting you walk away from him.
“i said that you look young. you’re tiny.”
you scoffed. is this guy for real?
“that’s rude.” you said, annoyance present in your voice. the guy’s hand brushed your arm, and you pull away.
“y’know… you’re so short, you look like a kid or something.” the confidence in his voice pissed you off. he was only getting closer to you.
“excuse me?” a deep voice asked from behind him. moving to the side, the guy is face to face with kei, who was much taller than him. “what did you just say about my girlfriend, asshole?”
you could hear the anger in kei’s voice, and it was visible in his defensive stance. his hand finds your waist, gripping it tightly, the veins popping through his arm.
“dude, chill. i was just talking to her.” the guy said, eyes flickering between the two of you. kei scoffed.
“no, you were harassing her. i’m not a dumbass.”
“relax, man. i’m not taking your girl. she’s too tiny anyway-”
by the time he had finished his sentence, kei’s clenched fist clashed with his nose, causing him to fly back with a grunt. he fell to the floor, blood trickling down his face. shocked washed over you instantly - you had never seen kei like this.
“watch your mouth, dickhead.” he shouted, the crowd all turning at the commotion. before kei could move to throw another punch, you grabbed his arm, yanking him back.
“baby, let’s go.”
he obliged, still in a fit of rage as you weaved out of the club.
---
finally reaching a safe distance from the club, the two of you stopped walking, finding a bench. you could see the anger still present in his expression, his hand finding yours again, his grip tense.
“i can’t believe you punched him.” you started, a small grin on your face. you squeezed his hand. “you made his nose bleed.”
“why wouldn’t i?” he started, shaking his head with a sigh. “he was being an asshole to you.”
your head rested on his arm, and you feel his muscles relax under your touch instantly.
“only i get to tease you for your height.” kei muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. the touch made you smile. “not some douchebag in a club... only me.”
“right.” you giggled, looking up at him. kei looked at you in return, and you could tell he was calmer now.
“i love you.” kei whispered, pressing a single kiss to your lips.
ꨄ︎ author’s note : ik my asks are closed but i had to write for this immediately bc it’s jojo T^T he definitely fits the nerd theme. all support is appreciated! hope u enjoy 🪽
ִֶָ. ..𓂃currently playing: scott & zelda - bibi ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 戯作ᰍ໋ ۫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹⠀ 𓈒 読む⸝⸝ ⟡
ever since you were a child, you’d been complimented on your effortless beauty by practically everyone. it got you far, landing you dates with cute guys, discounts in your favourite stores, and the ability to make friends easily.
however, your luck only went so far.
to your dismay, you weren’t blessed with the brains that people expect to come with beauty. your test scores were always shockingly low, barely classing as a pass. sometimes a complete fail. it was embarrassing for you. your teachers were aware of your struggle, and one day you were held back by your biology teacher, a stern expression on his face.
“you need to raise your grades by next semester.” he had said, arms crossed. “you’ll be tutored by another student. i’ve already spoken to him. you’ll start on wednesday.”
there was no room for arguing, no batting your eyelids to avoid responsibility. not this time. you knew you had to put in actual effort if you wanted to pass your exams in a few months.
---
your biology teacher had introduced you to jo that very wednesday, going over his expectations of the two of you, how often tutoring sessions would happen and so forth. jo simply nodded, hands buried in his pockets, clearly listening intently. to you, he was genuinely the epitome of a nerd. he followed every order. he was quiet and shy. he actually enjoyed studying. and apparently volunteers in a tutoring program through the school. total nerd.
you recognised jo due to him being in the majority of your classes. he sits in the back corner, head always buried in his book, pen always in his hand. he sat alone at lunch also, but you weren’t sure if that was on purpose or not. you couldn’t tell.
---
once your professor had left, the two of you sat opposite each other, the silence awkward and deafening. eventually jo spoke up, eyes flickering to your face.
“well, um.. let’s start, shall we?”
---
the awkwardness lingered even after weeks of sessions, with each of them lasting at least 2 hours. by now you had become rather fond of jo, enjoying his calming presence and his gentle attitude when it came to tutoring you.
“you’re almost there,” he’d encourage you, arm brushing yours as he points at the question. “the large surface area of alveoli is for gas exchange. good try, though.”
jo never laughed at your mistakes, never made you feel dumb (even if you were). he simply guided you in the right direction with that sweet voice of his.
during mini tests he gave you every so often, you’d catch him staring at your face way more often than normal. he’d shift his gaze to your test paper, ears bright red. it happened on separate multiple occasions.
one time when you were trying to explain the process of cell division from memory, you had caught him zoning out whilst watching your lips move. you kicked his leg under the table.
“jojo, you’re zoning out again. am i just that pretty?” you’d tease him, giggling. had you called him jojo? jo couldn’t believe his ears. he also couldn’t believe he’d been caught. idiot.
“wha-” jo stuttered, his face hot with embarrassment. the poor boy was so flustered. “l-let’s just focus on meiosis, alright?”
---
exam season came quicker than you expected. your time with jo had made you feel more at ease and confident to walk into the exam hall now, and you were sure your grades would improve. you’d put in as much as effort as you possibly could into the tutoring sessions, alongside flirting with jo in between. you didn’t have time to see jo between exams, but the two of you had planned to meet up after each of the individual results came out.
after receiving the result for your first exam, you’d practically skipped to the study room, finding jo already sat in there, eyes locked onto his phone.
“jojo!” you called, rushing over to him. before he could even turn his head in your direction, your lips press against his cheek softly. you pull back with a smile, showing him the sheet of paper with your grade on it; 94%. the highest score you’d ever gotten.
jo could barely process what you were saying or what you were showing him. his heart was pounding at an insane rhythm in his chest, his breathing was shaky, and his ears were hot. he felt like his whole body was sweating, actually. had you really just kissed him? jo couldn’t tell if it was real. but pressing his hand against his cheek, he could feel a sticky residue of your lip gloss on his skin. you did kiss him.
“jo? are you even listening?” you stopped mid-rant, tilting your head. jo was frozen in place, hand on his cheek, eyes glazed over. he quickly snapped out of it, glancing at you.
“what? um.. yes, sorry.” he mumbled, a shaky hand taking the result paper from you as an attempt to distract himself.
“that’s the highest grade i’ve ever achieved! it’s all thanks to you.” you said excitedly, sitting down in the chair opposite jo. he looked over to you, swallowing.
“…yeah, good job, y/n.” he gave you a small smile, silently praying you couldn’t see the redness of his ears. “your hard work paid off.”
jo knew he was screwed. you were such a minx - yet you had no idea what you were doing to him.
---
the poor boy assumed it was a spur of the moment, celebratory, one-time thing. you were just excited for your first ever decent grade, right? wrong. sweet jo was so so wrong.
it happened after the second exam result. and the third. and by the fourth, jo had become conditioned to expect a kiss on the cheek every time he saw you. not only that, but he was excited for it. he craved it, your plump pink lips leaving a sticky kiss mark on the warm skin of his cheek. he’d wait by the door, hands clammy in his pockets, eagerly anticipating your arrival. he was obsessed with you.
jo had never had a girlfriend himself, and was clearly a desperate loser. so having this sweet little treat from you after every pass he helped you achieve was what made his day, his week.
however, jo was shy, and would rather die than admit that to you. to anyone, at that matter. so for now, it was his little secret.
This is a terrible way to start this, but: Kei would absolutely have you cockwarm him while he scrolls through YouTube Shorts. It's efficient, getting caught up on month-old memes while filling you up.
I think he'd prefer cockwarming when you're both naked in bed, cuddled up with your back against his chest. Kei would mostly be focused on his phone, but if your hips started moving, he'd grab them to keep you still.
Cockwarming for Kei is just advanced cuddling, it's barely even sexual. That's easy for him to say, though, he's not the one getting stretched out or feeling his cock bounce inside of you when a video makes him giggle.
Murata Fuma
I see Fuma mostly having you sit on his cock when he's playing video games. It's more of a short-term solution or challenge for him. He'd have you cockwarm him until he meets some goal in his game, like finishing a quest or getting a gym badge.
When he suggests it, he's not even sure if it's possible for him to complete his little challenge with his cock buried in you. Can he strategize as you clench around him? He's willing to test the theory.
Cockwarming is a very private endeavor for Fuma, he'd only do it in his room. I think he'd prefer you both keep your clothes on, it's hard enough to focus when he doesn't have to ignore your beautiful body. As soon as he's done or he gives up trying, he is bending you over and fucking you for at least as long as he made you sit.
Wang Yixiang
I see Nicho doing cockwarming as asserting dominance. He's have you sitting on his lap naked, while he was fully clothed learning kanji or something. Your bare chest against his clothed chest with your face buried in his shoulder, desperately trying not to ride him.
He'd have one hand on his laptop and one roaming over your back and ass. His light touch feels electric as you squeeze down around him, but can't do anything to actually satisfy yourself. What makes it worse is the way he just thrusts up into you the moment you calm yourself down before going back to working on his laptop.
Nicho would leave you desperate and clenching around him for hours until you're begging him to use your body, to finally let you cum. By that point your head would be so empty and your begging would be so pretty that he'd have to give you what you want.
Byun Euijoo
I feel like Euijoo would be really into cockwarming, but would never explicitly ask. Like, he would leave hints that he would really prefer to watch this movie with his cock in you, but he'd be far too shy to say it explicitly. Poor Euijoo would be so embarassed to admit he wants you sitting on his cock in the living room, where anyone could see.
Once you finally got the hints and started cockwarming him, he couldn't even focus on the movie, but he'd just love the way you squirm on him while trying to get comfortable. His fingers would just rub circles over your hips trying to distract himself from how good you make him feel.
As soon as the movie ends, he's quietly asking if he can fuck you. Now, that's something he'd save for the bedroom, but he'd thank you as he railed you, thank you for making the movie so much better.
Nakakita Yuma
He's such a brat. I think he'd love showing off how he's been working out, just keeping you still and frustrated. Like, maybe you talked about edging or denial, but you never imagined he'd deny you and keep his cock buried in you.
Yuma seems like the type to mix a touch of exhibitionism in with his cockwarming. When you had a moment alone in the dorm living room, he'd pull you into his lap and press his cock into you. By the time you're in a position to argue, the guys are back in the room and you have to smile and pretend that you're not being filled with Yuma's cock.
Despite all the frustration that Yuma's style of cockwarming would bring you, he wouldn't give you more than you could handle and he wouldn't mind you giving him a taste of his own medicine and just deciding to take a seat in the middle of riding him.
Asakura Jo
Jojo would live for cockwarming. It would elevate cuddling and make him feel so close to you. You'd both be naked under a blanket, bodies pressed against one another has he's pressed deep inside you.
He'd want to fill you up for hours. Not moving or transitioning into sex, just talking and showing you how much he loves you. Jo would just hold you and whisper about how lucky he is to have you in his life.
I see Jo doing cockwarming both before sex as foreplay while you dirty talk and feel each other up and after sex just to stay close to you. I don't see him being able to just roll over after he finishes. He needs to have you in his arms until he falls asleep. That and he's not quite done being inside you, even after he finishes.
Shigeta Harua
He's a sensitive guy, it would be a real struggle for him not to grind into you for more friction. Harua would just bury his face in your chest or shoulder and grit his teeth, trying desperately not to fuck up into you.
Cockwarming would be a really fun punishment for Harua, just having to sit with you so warm around his cock without moving. He would beg so sweetly for release. Harua would promise to be good, just please let him fuck you.
If you cockwarmed him after he came, he'd be so whiny and sensitive. You feel so good around him, so good it hurts. He'd be so cute when he got all embarassed around going soft inside of you.
Takayama Riki
Taki would mostly do cockwarming after sex, to keep you full. At first, he'd grip your hips tightly and pin your body to his. After a while, he'd soften his grip, but still hold you against him.
As you snuggle, clenching around his cock while he's still balls deep in you and you can feel his cum pooling in your core, it feels so good that it gets his cock ready for another round. When you feel Taki reharden inside you, you know he could just dump load after load into you, marking your insides as his. Taki would just fuck his loads deeper and deeper into you with each round.
When he's finally fucked himself dry, Taki would try to stay in you for as long as possible. As long as he's in you, you're his and his alone and that's all he wants.
Riki Maus
I love the idea of Maki with a thick cock. Cockwarming Maki is as much a pleasure for him as it is a necessity for you. It's so big that he can't just put it in and fuck you. No, that would break you. You would have to warm it bit by bit, involuntarily clenching around it as you struggled to adjust to the sheer size of it.
Maki wouldn't mind this little ritual at all, reveling in the way you struggle to take him. Oh, but you try so hard to take it. When you finally sink to the base, you have to sit there and warm him a bit more while you mentally prepare for him to fuck you.
There would have to be a little cockwarming after sex, too. If he just pulled out, you'd feel so empty. Luckily, Maki would love to keep you full.
nanami hadn’t been able to wear his glasses, lately.
no, not because the prescription was wrong or anything like that; it was his new pair after all, thin frame and all. but because his pregnant wife, you, would get a little too... excited about it, to say the least.
it all started one night, when he wore it to read a mystery novel he recently purchased next to you on the bed, slipping through the pages calmly under the blanket, his one hand on your belly. nanami thought you were fast asleep, but when the book he was holding quickly changed into his beautiful wife straddling his lap, he could not be more wrong.
your lips captured his in a swift motion, moving like someone who couldn’t get enough—insatiable. his hands that were grabbing air found your waist like an anchor. for a man who couldn’t process your gesture fast enough, his body worked hard to cover it. kissing you like that’s the only thing he was meant to do, moving along at the pace you set, taking only what you let him. “mmh, hello to you too. did i do something good today, love?” he asked in-between, smiling. not particularly fixated on the answer as long as he got to touch you, as long as it got you in his hold.
you pulled away, inspecting his face and the glasses that fit him in a way that you could no longer express appropriately. hair all messy, still slightly wet from the shower as his scent wrapped you like a dream. “you’re about to,” you whispered, kissing his neck as the memory faded, leaving the man all hot and bothered.
fine, nanami confessed. he also let it happened way more that he’d like to admit. he really should have held back, helping you relax so you could rest instead of getting swept away every time by your honey-like voice, soft kisses and how sweet you smelled like before bed. he really should have, but somehow most nights always ended up with him and you partaking in such an intense... activity. well not exactly somehow, it had been an old news afterall—that he could not ever resist you.
somewhere along the lines, nights where he noticed, it always had something to do with two things. him and his glasses. it took him a while to figure it out, with his mind being quite infatuated by you. but when he eventually figured it out he could be more giddy, knowing that he was as desirable to you as you were to him.
but that had to stop. it really did. nanami would hate to wear you out, making you tired when he should be helping you feel the opposite. he did not want to contribute into anything that could possibly affect your physical condition negatively, even just a little.
that’s why nanami decided not to wear his glasses anymore for a while. he decided to be responsible for the both of you.
“ken? you're not reading tonight?” but then you asked. the answer came within a split second, right after he was done ogling the sight of you in your nightgown. he knew what you were asking, he knew exactly what it was implying.
“someone just couldn’t get enough, hm?” he asked gently, caressing your earlobe intimately. you nuzzled closer, and he knew he was done for.
tomorrow, nanami thought. tomorrow, he will definitely start being responsible.
hii could i pls req reader taking care of sick fuma ^ ^ ty in advance my love 😼😼😼
taking care of sick fuma
[ author's scribbles ! ] ODIE ILY!!!!!!!!!!!!! TYSM FOR REQING!!!!!!!!!!! i couldntr wait to post it so uh yeah that was embarrassingly fasy c: I HOPE U ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!
the air in the bedroom is heavy and stuffy. even though you don't want fuma to become ever more sick than he already is, you had decided to open the window. the comforters are warm and cozy but you force yourself to leave the bed. fuma groans instantly.
oh, the curses and blessings of having an early bird of a boyfriend. and also a light sleeper.
"y/n…" he whines, his arm leaving to cover his eyes.
"shush, you big baby. just lay there. five minutes, i'll bring you meds and breakfast." you hum, opening the window ever so slightly.
"i'm dying… and you're leaving me here…" he huffs, turning to his side to wrap himself in the covers more securely. he'd appreciate the fresh breeze if it wasn't for his stuffed nose.
you walk by the bed and lean, pressing your hand against his forehead. it's hot but nothing threatening. the temperature surely has come down since yesterday, but you will double check later.
"can we stay.. like that… it feels… nice" fuma slurs inaudibly and turns his blood-shot eyes to look at you. his pout almost convinces you. but then, your stomach rumbles loudly.
you both giggle and you shuffle your hair.
"food and meds, fuma. then i'll lay with you for as long as you need. okay, baby?" you ask, voice soft. he just smiles in response and turns his head deeper into the pillow. "don't fall asleep, you need to eat."
"mhm… i'm just resting with my eyes closed. i'm counting pokemons in my head… i won't—" yawn "—sleep"
"you better because i won't have mercy on you" you warn and leave to the kitchen. you decided to make tea as well as some hot water. you prepared toast and decided to draw a pikachu with ketchup. preparing food on the plates, putting medicine aside… and done. you rushed back, really hoping he hasn't fallen asleep because you lied. you would have mercy on him and wouldn't wake him up… despite him needing to take his meds.
luckily, he was up. now sat with his back against the bed frame, hair disheveled and eyes sleepy. he pulled the duvet over his head, looking like a lost puppy.
"i'm back, i'm back" you hummed happily and sat at the edge of the bed, placing the plate carefully. fuma started at the toast, smiling to himself. you grabbed the thermometer from the nightstand and checked his temperature. "enjoy. take your meds after the meal, i also made you some tea… oh, it truly is lower than yesterday! one more day and you'll be back in shape"
you looked up and met his intense, yet blurry from sleep, eyes. he was chewing slowly, cogs visibly turning inside his head. he swallowed, ignoring the pain.
"you know, i love you. like, so much." he whispered, hand searching for yours. you grabbed it and intertwined your fingers together, the warmth of his skin almost sticky. but you don't mind.
instead, you lean in and press a tender kiss on his burning forehead.
"love you more" you hum and sneakily take a bite out of the toast he's holding. he chuckles tiredly, his body heating up. he just wasn't sure if it was the sickness in his body or the love he had for you taking over him.
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