#ej smut

[cinnamonshakev]

does anyone know that one euijoo smut where reader iw his neighbor and hes a dad or something please help me find it it was so enjoyable shit

[fandomflippersstuff]

TASTE OF METAL

You’re living in a quaint little house in the edge of the woods and one night you realise you’ve been feeding more than just the woodland friends you had in mind.

(Cw: 18+ content, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ej x reader but he’s in like demon heat, breeding kink, mating press, ej being cocky, descriptions of c*balism but not like vividly (i’m scared to death of c*nnibals), monster x reader sex, mild death, mild haematolagnia, pinv, general nsfw.)

I don’t usually write dark topics so this is like a new area for me, not like super dark but again: DD:DNE so read at your own will.

—————

You’ve been putting out some of the leafy greens you’ve grown in your garden and some meat discards since your dad sent you home with some packed meat from the butchery. As for the animals you’d befriended, there’s a family of rabbits and a wild little puppy that strays from their mama and their siblings just to see you.

It worked for you, you had no kids, no spouse and small but meaningful connection with your family. You had more time to read your books and focus on your work-life; you worked at the butchery with your dad just on the outskirts of town.

Your dad worries about you though, you’ve had a weird paranoia to your demeanour since a week in to feeding the animals around your house, he knows this cause you told him about it, he says you’re overreacting but you know something is out there, he had some errands to run beforehand but he drove you back home that day and made you dinner while you napped.

You liked quiet, it stayed quiet, nothing ever happened at home.

Until you heard clash in the night.

Being alone in the house wasn’t ideal, especially so far away from the publicity of neighbours. Clearly was an advantage tonight for whoever you were about to hit over the head with the nearest weaponised item.

You take the glass cup on your bedside table for now, there’s more substantial weapons in the kitchen; you can head through there on the way.

Walking through the unlit hallways of your house you think you have an advantage of darkness until the moment you spot the intruders with flashlights, more than one, there’s two of them. Fuck.

You’ll have to think this out a little more, maybe the police? They’re too far away, they’ll take ages to get here. They have a gun but only one that you can see, they seem unprepared and frantic; it doesn’t seem like they came here for you. You could just hide and let them take whatever and leave? That seemed like the better option, you’d call the cops once they’re gone.

You creeped over to the nearest hiding spot; literal curtains, if you hide in a cupboard they’re likely to open it, you have no idea what they’re looking for, it could be valuables or they could easily be two crackheads looking for commodities to sell.

You catch their license plate through the window; you’ll remember that for the call. While you wait you’re attempting to gather as much information as you can through the curtains, it’ll make it easier, hoping they’ll think no one’s home and take of their masks.

And they do, one of them has curly light hair, a gap in his teeth and some stubble; he looks like an absolute dork wearing a suit jacket over his hoodie and you try not to laugh. He’s tall unlike his accomplice, dark hair, crabby as fuck look on his face but he’s kind of attractive, he has thick eyebrows and a very sculpted face, he could be a model if his profession was not heavily frowned upon, especially in that plaid shirt.

“She’s not here” Fuck!? So they are looking for you?! Shit, you’ve really gotta find a way out of this, not calling the cops has fucked up big time. They’d been here long enough for the cops to have arrived, but I don’t think they expected you to be hiding behind curtains.

“She hasn’t left the house since she got home, she has to be hiding here somewhere.” Oh my god they’ve been watching you the entire time?! You’ve had a shower, and not to mention forgot your towel so you’ve had to walk butt-ass naked down the hall.

The taller one starts to look your way, you’re not being too obvious are you??

He starts walking over, this is it, you’re gonna die.

Fuck, you’re sweating and now aware of the volume of your breathing. He continues walking over step by step as to not alarm you, you unconsciously stumble backwards into the windowsill.

“GET HER!” He screams, you run into the tall one, push him over unexpectedly and run to the kitchen.

The adrenaline is pumping in through your system but they catch up, luckily you snagged a knife earlier, but now it hits you that unless you throw it at them, you now have to get close to them to use it.

They’ve followed you into the bedroom, you’ve tripped over various things but you’re still standing, you know no one is hearing your screams but you can’t help it, it’s a response.

They corned you like a wild animal, you don’t know what they’re here fore exactly but you know you have to make it out alive.

They stop moving, you’re still screaming but they freeze, the room gets darker, the window now void of moonlight.

Glass shatters, screams ensue but not yours, ripping, tearing and chewing.

What the fuck is happening.

You fall to your knees, scared, shocked, unaware of any emotion that can fully describe what you’re feeling. You cannot physically describe what you’re seeing, it’s too inhuman.

All you can do is cry, worried that this thing will eat you too. The intruders are gone now yes, but in their place stands the most terrifying thing you’ve ever seen, it’s taken them down so easily, you don’t stand a chance.

It saunters over to you, hands and feet on the floor, it gets so close to your face you can feel its breath on you, you wonder if this is the thing you’ve been paranoid about.

It leans down and as you think it’s about to tear out your jugular, its just gets close and smells you. Like it’s trying to figure you out.

It knows the smell familiar, cause it smelled it on the meat, on the water. It knows you, you’ve been taking care of him, you don’t know him though, that’s why you’re crying.

He pulls back and before you can acknowledge what he says he’s hiding under your bed looking at you.

He said he was sorry?

“Why are you apologising?” You ask him, shaking, trying to figure out what it going on before he confirms it so at least you can be comfortable with it.

“I’m sorry, I was protecting you, I could smell you were in danger and I didn’t want to scare you. You smell so good I couldn’t stop myself from getting close to you.”

“I smell good? What the fuck are you talking about?”

His facade changes, like a light switch, he’s all of a sudden out from the bed, on two legs and staring down at you.

“Don’t act like you weren’t aware of who I am, you know i’ve been here all this time, I heard you talking about me to your father, you’re lucky he was here that night. I could smell how wet you got thinking about me when you were supposed to be taking a nap.”

He was telling the truth, you had seen him before, he had made an effort to let you see him after your dad came over, he knew he wanted to make you feel safe, he was eating from the tray of meat you left out for the puppy, who was surprisingly eating quite happily next to him.

He said he liked liver and that he would protect you, so you brought him liver and he protected you, liver was not a popular sell at the shop so your Dad didn’t mind, when he asked you told him it was nutrient dense and he left it at that.

“I can smell it on you now, don’t deny me that”

You test him, you definitely shouldn’t be testing an inhuman demon-like figure that is calling you out for being horny.

“And what? What are you wanting out of me telling you i’m turned on?” He tilts his head at you and smirks like he’s impressed.

He gets closer to you, and says:

“You are mine now, you belong to me. Do you understand that? I saved you from those idiots and now you’re mine to do with however the fuck I want to.”

You’re shocked, you don’t know what to say to him, but you want this, your body is yearning for him and you have no idea why.

“I’m yours then.”

He takes no time at all getting you undressed and on the bed, he cares for your comfort at least.

He takes off his belt and his pants and he pulls his hard cock out of his pants, you look at him nervously, and he smirks.

He taps it twice on your tummy and drags his length down your pussy, he’s teasing you. He’s teasing you and he’s good at it.

He lines his dick up with your entrance and slowly pushes in, it’s agonisingly slow and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

He stills so you can adjust to his size, he’s not human for sure cause he feels demonic inside you. Once you’re adjusted he starts moving back and forth, dragging his thick cock back and forth inside your cunt and he lets you know how it feels, he’s so vocal about it.

“Fuuuckk you feel so good, all mine, this pussy is all mineee.”

As soon as you start moaning he’s all over you, kissing your chest and neck and biting your shoulder until it bleeds, he laps it all up like he’s hungry.

He fastens his pace and goes harder when you ask him to, and god it feels good. He moves you back onto the bed a bit more so his knees are on the bed and he lifts your legs up and holds the backs of your thighs down.

He starts pumping his cock in and out of you and you swear you’ve never had dick like this before.

You’ve cum at least three times before he starts to falter, his pace is erratic and he’s breathing so hard, he looks at you and says:

“I’m gonna fill you up, till you’re fucking leaking. I’m gonna breed my pups into you and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.”

He smashes his lips onto yours, it’s passionate and rough, teeth on teeth kind of kissing, and he comes, he fills you up so much you’re 100% sure it’s leaking onto the sheets.

He looks at you after like you’re his entire world, you’re not sure how to feel but you know he’s honest about the way he feels without saying it.

“You’re mine now, forever.”

“I know.”

——————————

I wanted to end that on a softer note cause it’s nice lmao, cause like; Tim and Brian just there on the floor while they get freaky? Let’s just ignore that, i’m too lazy to plot-line them out of the room🧍‍♂️

I know my last EJ one did really well so I thought i’d make a longer like actual fic this time.

DO NOT TRANSLATE OR PUBLISH MY WORK ANYWHERE ELSE MY WRITING IS MY OWN.

© 2026 FANDOMFLIPPERSSTUFF ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[eu1joo]

— knock once (18+) | byun euijoo

synopsis | you accidentally tune in to your roommate's special livestream... again and again and again.

details | roommate!euijoo x fem!reader, bestie!nicholas, forced proximity, thin walls, mentions of food, descriptions of eating, minor injury (finger cut), hotdogs, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, perv!ju, panty theft, handjob, dirty talk, praise, cursing, lowercase intended

wc | 7.5k

from the author | euijoo forehead save me. save me euijoo forehead

your package was waiting on the foot of your bed when you got home. the cardboard box was slightly crushed, the corners pushed in and the tape frayed like it had been dragged down a street by a rope. you'd been tracking it closely all week, since the contents cost about half of your paycheck and then some, having paid extra for a warranty. your anticipation had been growing all week not only because of the simple, modern-age dopamine rush of receiving a package but because, maybe, you'd finally get some sleep this weekend. and every day after.

that was if the item inside the box was less damaged than the outside.

"did you fucking sit on it?" you asked as you stomped into the kitchen you shared with your roommate, who was standing at the sink as if he were going to wash the dishes piling up but was, instead, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

euijoo glanced up at you once, rolling his eyes as he flicked his loose, messy hair out of his eyes. he said, simply, "no, i didn't."

"well, somebody did," you sighed, navigating around him to get the scissors from a drawer, "i'm gonna be pissed if they're broken."

"you're already pissed," he half-laughed, shifting over to put distance between the two of you, like you were contagious with some incurable disease. he watched you, though, intently, as you swiped open what was left of the tape holding the box closed. or, rather, attempted to with the world's dullest scissors and apparently the toughest tape ever made. he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, "what's in the box, anyway?"

"if you'd have some patience," you grunted, shifting the box on it's side to get a better grip. but the grip wasn't better. in fact, it was worse, and the scissors clattered out of your hand, skidding across the floor and right by his feet. euijoo bent down to pick them up, and you sighed, defeated. he definitely thought you were incompetent. you had given him no reason to believe otherwise in your three months of living together.

"hand it over," he motioned for the box still caged in your arms, "before you cut your fingers off."

and when you handed him the package, he, too, struggled with wedging the blade between the concrete fibers. euijoo attempted an expert move, pinning the box in place between his knees and driving the scissors down the length of it with both hands.

"you're gonna cut your leg off," you winced at the maneuver, a bit prideful that you weren't struggling by any fault of your own. it was painful to watch, and the sight almost made you second-guess any invasive sentiments you had toward him. almost. he was undeniably attractive, tall and slender but broad and so boyish. euijoo carried a certain charm about him, like he was the teacher's favorite in school, like he had sold lemonade on the street corner and made no money because he drank it all before getting his first customer. he also seemed closed off in a way that reversed his charm in many situations; euijoo seemed to be actively fighting his personality off, like a mosquito buzzing in his face. he swatted and swatted. even now, he wanted to laugh at your critique of his technique when yours was far less successful, but he didn't. instead, he doubled down on making it work. you chewed at the inside of your cheek, "don't, like, stab it."

"do you want it open or not?"

"i'd prefer my noise cancelling headphones in one piece," you said, mumbling the next sentence under your breath at a volume you thought only you could hear, "i might finally get some sleep at night."

having a roommate had it’s perks– shared chores, shared rent, shared meals when one of you would make too large of a portion by accident– but it also had its drawbacks. having your particular roommate had one, very significant downside: the shared wall.

you thought living with euijoo would be convenient for the both of you, cheaper than living alone and in a cuter apartment, too, but it had grown to just be convenient for him. you knew him through a mutual friend, nicholas, who had personally recommended euijoo when you mentioned that you were looking for a roommate. according to nico, euijoo was helpful with chores and always paid his half of the rent on time, which was more than your previous roommates did. but you still didn't know him that well, having only been around him a few times in nico's large friend group.

"is there anything i should know about?" you had asked nicholas, just as a precaution before reaching out to euijoo about the apartment, "like, is he a sleepwalker?"

"uh, no, he doesn't sleepwalk," nico had laughed, then, a knowing, low chuckle, "but he's… kind of loud."

you could handle a bit of noise; you'd lived with gamers who shouted well into quiet hours, and your last set of housemates were sorority girls who sounded like they were competing in squealing matches every weekend. there was no possible way euijoo was louder than them— you told nicholas this, and he didn't discourage your decision to reach out to him the next day, offering him the spare room in your prospective flat.

the first night, you thought you had imagined it, the muffled grunts and curses that phased right through the wall separating your room from his. earlier that day, you could hear him on the phone, the way his voice carried right into the open space of the apartment despite the normal volume. you could hear every sharp slide of the plastic hangers on the rack as he organized his wardrobe. every slam of a drawer, every click of the light switch, every whir of the ceiling fan— it was like you were in there with him. but euijoo himself hadn't been loud in the way nicholas described, like a nuisance. he moved confidently, unafraid to bump corners or shuffle things around. for the first ten hours, you were inspired; you could have stood to be less apologetic, live a bit recklessly. but nicholas lived that way, too— confident.

maybe he snored, you had thought as you slipped into your bed. it was the only option left. unless nicholas had been pulling your leg, making you worry over nothing because he knew you would. your eyes fluttered closed, heavy after lifting boxes and unpacking all day. but just as you began to drift off, you heard it. you heard the unmistakable drawl of pleasure, the satisfied sighs and moans and strings of jumbled curses flowing from lips undoubtedly slack, and you knew only one thing for certain:

nicholas was fucking dead.

would it have been so difficult to mention that euijoo was some kind of sex addict? there was no other way to make sense of the sheer number of times a week your new roommate was moaning, alone in his room but talking himself through it like he wasn't. you were no prude, but you started taking a tally of the sleepless nights from how frequent his self-care sessions were. by night five, you'd barely slept a wink in your new apartment.

so, you really did hope that the headphones would be truly noise-cancelling. you craved a night's rest that didn't have a pre-show. but you didn't want to embarrass euijoo at all with your predicament. somehow, his comfortability outweighed your own. surely, it had nothing to do with his sweet, round eyes, dark like turned soil. or his patient smile, which dropped as soon as you let your grievances slip. i might finally get some sleep at night.

because euijoo heard it. he definitely heard it, telling by the way the scissors slipped in his hand and nicked the soft, golden skin of his finger like a thorn. he winced and brought the cut to his lips instinctively, dropping the scissors in the sink behind him. "shit," he muttered into his hand as you stuttered toward him and grabbed the half-opened box from his arms, dropping it to the floor.

"hold on," you urged him, like he had any choice, and began your violent rummaging through a drawer. somewhere, you had bandages. somewhere, you had your shit together, eight full hours of sleep, and a perfectly organized, ready-to-go first aid kit for situations like this, just in case two grown adults fail to open a cardboard box. your fingers combed through miscellaneous papers, pens, and rolls of tape until they landed on the box you were looking for. you sucked your teeth at the sight before you, "you might not like these, but they're all we have."

cartoon hotdogs scrawled in vivid hues of red and yellow, complete with giant eyes and cheeky smiles, decorated each of the bandages. some of them, with stick-figure arms and legs, were playing with various sport objects, kicking balls back and forth or hitting airborne items with rackets. others were surfing or sunbathing or rollerskating. euijoo pulled his finger from his lips, breathing a soft laugh as you struggled to unwrap the bandage. "nice," he noted, softly, a smile unfurling. you held his right wrist with a shaky hand as you stuck the adhesive of the bandage to his finger, curling the hotdog-printed material around until it sat snug right above the bend. his palms were unexpectedly soft, and you wanted to kick yourself for letting your mind wander. you imagined the way they might have felt sliding up the skin of your thigh, long and svelte. you didn't even notice you were holding your breath until you were finished, until you had concealed the small cut in the most obnoxious bandage ever created and finally freed the air from your lungs.

euijoo was holding his breath, too, watching your fingertips dance around his, steady and intentional and completely opposite to the version of you that worked helplessly at the tape securing your package. you released his wrist like it burned to touch, like you'd been caught, and wiped your palms down the front of your pants, "how's that? can you bend it?" he flipped his hand in front of his face, looking at the bandage with amusement, studying every inch of the design. euijoo bent his finger, slowly, wincing in one grand, exaggerated flinch before dissolving into a chuckle, your fist meeting his shoulder in an uncharacteristic shove.

"it's good," he laughed, lightly punching your shoulder, too, "thanks."

the headphones were in perfect condition despite the trauma the cardboard endured in its delivery. euijoo had cut away enough of the tape that all you had to do was pull the lids apart. you ran a few tests, alone and in the temporary silence; the headphones enveloped your entire ears as you tapped on furniture, clapped your hands, and clicked different surfaces together. nothing. there were traces of sound, sharp notes that twinkled above the muted pulse of your heartbeat in your ears like wind chimes. but, for the most part, you couldn't hear anything.

for the most part. you should not have settled for most.

it always started slowly, in a way that, to the untrained ear, sounded like euijoo was suffering from a tummy ache and had been struck by a wave of cramps. he groaned, sighed. you tried not to imagine what he was doing, tried not to stare through the wall like you had x-ray vision. the part of you that respected his privacy squeezed your eyes shut, just in case; the part of you that was human, that couldn't resist your body's natural and completely normal reactions, slipped one cup of the headphones off your ear.

"shit," you could hear him, muffled, "just like that."

it had to be some psychological torture experiment. having a roommate who was inconsiderately loud was bad enough; the fact that he was hot made it all the more unbearable, and you wondered if he was aware of how thin the walls were or if he was arrogant enough to not care. did he know he could get away with it? you predicted the answer was yes.

the truth was that all of nicholas's friends were hot, but most of them were less pompous about it than nicholas, who was visibly conscious of his outward appeal. his wardrobe, his hair— it all screamed i know i'm hot. but you'd never tell him that. euijoo's beauty snuck up on you. when you'd first met, his tall frame seemed to have shrunk behind the cluster of boys, lingering behind the onslaught of personalities that was their friend group. you'd noticed him later, when everything grew quiet at the end of the party nico invited you to following a slightly world-altering breakup. you had only agreed to go because your ex was, unfortunately, your only friend. meeting people seemed like a great idea.

nicholas wanted you to do more than just meet people, though.

"if you ever get lonely," nicholas had started his award-winning pitch over lunch one afternoon, "euijoo's always down for a good time."

you had nearly choked on your water. euijoo seemed like the least likely out of the group to be down for a good time. especially with you, to whom he had said a total of three words. he seemed more reserved than the others; when they jumped to ask you questions, bring you drinks, and drag you to dance, euijoo had sank deeper into the couch or slumped absentmindedly against the wall. he just looked disinterested, but looks could be deceiving.

"i'm good, thanks," you had wiped the water from your mouth on the back of your hand, choking down your embarrassment.

hook-ups weren't really your thing, hence the aforementioned world-altering breakup that stemmed entirely from your inability to let someone go. you craved emotional connection, long-term stability. you couldn't get that from a one night stand. you wanted to know someone, inside and out. you realized a bit too late that the closest you had ever come to real love was your own hand brushing through your hair, massaging lotion into your damp skin every evening and gently swiping lip balm over your lips every morning. and at night, it had been your own hand stuffed down the front of your shorts bringing yourself to orgasm.

you tried to fight your body every night. the guilt started to weigh on you, like you'd been keeping a secret, like you'd totaled his car in a parking lot and left a half-assed note on his windshield. all the while, your frustration bled into something hotter. you could feel it now, the burning between your thighs, so sharp it almost hurt. and so began your nightly routine: hear him, hate him, and then join him. from the comfort of your own bed, of course, with your laptop open next to you like you'd be paying any attention at all to whatever you decided to put on.

"fuck, baby," euijoo's hoarse voice seeped sinfully through the wall, and your legs involuntarily squeezed, desperate for any friction at all. you would have never admitted it, but you kind of liked the way the guilt amplified your arousal, even if you struggled to look him in the eyes every morning. the thrill of being caught almost outweighed the fear of it.

you quickly pulled up your preferred site. preferred was a bit of a stretch as you didn't really visit many others, but this one got the job done. the interface was a bit clunky, so you were immediately met with an onslaught of streams, both pre-recorded and live, catering to any and every fetish and interest; girls in latex or draped in lace, men in costume, or masked bodies roleplaying vigilantes in the shadows— it was all there in one flashing, oversaturated place. if you weren't half-drunk on your roommate's moans, you would have been severely overwhelmed. but instead, you scrolled and scrolled with your brows furrowed, not quite sure what you were looking for. were you even looking for anything? the thrill of watching usually did it for you before any dirty talk could, mixed with the mental image of your roommate across the hall with his cock in his fist.

god, you were fucked.

you clicked one at random. it didn't matter; the throbbing in your panties promised an orgasm before the site's sponsored ads were even finished running. but, quicker than you anticipated, you were met with the live feed of the stream, of the streamer's dimly lit room. you'd never seen this camboy before, even in passing, but you were not disappointed with your impulsive choice.

user byunny's webcam was angled low, tilted meticulously to reveal only what he wanted you, vaguely speaking, to see; in pixelated, dull light, the exposed skin of his chest and stomach glowed subtly, like headlights muted in sheets of rain, and the angle accentuated the toned slopes of his stomach. he was built delicately, sculpted with a gentle hand from his ribs to his hips which jutted, helplessly, into his hand. you felt your cheeks burn as his fingers wrapped tighter around his leaking, angry cock. the tip had been long flushed red, the length of it coated sleek and throbbing. his hips stuttered with every pained stroke from base to tip, his hips lifting to meet his movements in weak, pleasure-driven thrusts. sweat rolled down the soft expanse of his stomach, rolling down the curve of his waist and disappearing into the shadows of the background. of course, you were meant to be watching his dick, perfectly centered and begging for attention, but you found yourself lost in the details; the t-shirt bunched at the top of the screen, held up by his free hand to keep the flexing muscles of his abdomen visible, the swell of his chest as he panted, as his orgasm inched closer, and his hands. they were pretty, knuckles flushed with vigor, and his fingers were long. you followed the precise bend of his wrist to the golden flat of the back of his palm, all the way to his perfectly kept nail beds, all pristine— except for one.

secured neatly around one of his fingers was a bandage. the hotdogs were roller-skating, and they were skating directly up the length of camboy byunny's twitching cock. your breath caught in your throat as the thought did more than cross your mind. no, the thought pummeled through every other idea you could have had, knocking them against the sides of your skull and shattering them into thousands of pieces. deny, deny, deny, you thought, there are reasonable explanations for this. coincidences were real; you'd been in several of them. at the store, sometimes your total was your birthday. last week, a stranger on the sidewalk had been wearing the same shoes as you. certainly, these hotdog bandages were a hot commodity among wound-havers.

but, then, there was no denying it, as you heard, through the ear that was not covered by the headphones, the ear that could hear every sound euijoo made in his room next to yours, "im coming- fuck, im coming."

approximately four seconds later, traveling the bottomless pit of latency that plummeted for miles and still didn't hold a candle to the trench in the bottom of your stomach, the man on your screen arched up into his hand, his hotdog-clad finger wrapped definitively around the base of his cock. he groaned, in a distorted, disorientingly familiar voice, "im coming- fuck, im-"

you slammed your laptop closed.

"so, you really thought he was beating it every night for fun?"

nicholas found humor in everything, somehow. even this, which you delivered in a hushed and frantic tone in the center of your favorite cafe, made him snort so loud that every head turned and looked at you. you wondered if they knew, if just by looking at you they could tell that you watched your roommate jack off online. you wondered even more if they could tell that you liked it. that was the part that scared you— you had imagined that very situation for months, privately theorizing what he might have been doing, whether he was using a toy or rutting his hips into his mattress. but, back then, you had just heard him, and the visual in your brain was blurred, as if to protect his identity from your perverted brain. seeing him felt like a major violation, even if you were one of hundreds of people watching. did they feel like this, too?

"you didn't think to mention that euijoo was…" you lowered your head to the table, catching a clear whiff of your coffee swirling in your cup as you kept your voice hushed but frantic, "a camboy? that didn't seem like vital information when i asked if there was anything i should know?"

"it's not really my place to tell you, hm?" nicholas raised an eyebrow, swirling his cup in his hand. the liquid sloshed faintly in the plastic confines as he relaxed back in the padded seating of the cafe chair, "but i personally put two and two together after four days of sleeping like shit and losing my earplugs in my pillows."

"well, what did you do?" you asked, "like, how did you get him to stop?"

"stop?" nicholas laughed again, like he was wise beyond his years, "he can't just stop, dude, that's his job. you either pretend you don't know, play dumb, or you can ask him to keep it down… every night for the rest of your lease."

you realized then why euijoo needed a new place to stay and none of his previous roommates did. nicholas was chill, of course, and didn't seem too bothered by your current situation, but the other boys had shorter tempers, less patience. the idea of euijoo being kicked out of his previous apartment made you wonder why nicholas was so insistent that he would make an excellent roommate for you. everything he had said was true; euijoo was timely with rent, and he never complained about the chores you divided equally between the two of you. it was only the constant dirty talk after sundown and the wall-shaking moaning that knocked him down a peg. and now the fact that you saw his dick and can't stop thinking about it.

"i'm so screwed," you covered your face with your hands, experiencing, for what honestly felt like the first time, darkness and peace at the same time. until your phone chimed on the table below you. with your hands still pressed firmly over your eyes, you sensed nico's hand reaching across the table to flip your phone toward him. you asked, voice muffled by your palms, "who is it?"

"the devil himself," nicholas said with a smirk, flipping the phone back toward you as you slid your hands away from your face to read the text on your lockscreen. from euijoo, a simple question: can i move your clothes out of the dryer? nicholas sipped at his coffee as he studied the way your brows furrowed, as if the question required more than a yes or no. "he's like a housewife," he sighed, almost reminiscing, "does he cook for you?"

"if i say yes, will you take him back? sounds like you really miss him," you teased, half-joking as you typed back a hurried response of 'yes,' when you actually wanted to just tell him to burn everything and forget you ever lived there, that you were moving across the country, maybe even booking a spot on the next moon landing. and then you wondered if 'yes' seemed too enthusiastic. like, yes, please look through all my clothes! so you tacked on a quick apology for a final response of 'yes, sorry.' perfect. not too excited and equally regretful.

next to your other texts, the current conversation stood out because that's what it was— a conversation. your previous messages were brief and dry, ritualistic at best, letting each other know in as few words as possible that rent was on the counter or that there were leftovers in the fridge. it was strange to receive a text asking for permission to do something as mundane as moving laundry from the dryer, which you were positive you'd done before and just left his clean clothes in a heap on the couch. it was even stranger to see your phone light up again, this time with a third text in the chain. 'don't be sorry,' it read. you visibly gulped, stomach tied in an uneasy knot. had euijoo been cloned and replaced?

nicholas downed the last of his coffee as you stared into the blinding light of your screen. he stood up, clapped one sympathetic hand on your shoulder, and said, "no, thanks," he tossed his empty cup in the trash bin by the cafe exit, "i really like my beauty sleep."

when you returned to your apartment, euijoo had made himself lunch. he stood in front of the sink, hovering over the basin where the dirty dishes once sat in stacks to catch the crumbs of his sandwich, of which there were plenty. he probably wouldn't have noticed your presence if you didn't drop your keys on the counter, the sound of the metal clanging drawing his chin over his shoulder, drawing his eyes to yours. instead of greeting you, he nodded his head toward the stove.

another sandwich, untouched and resting neatly on a napkin.

you eyed it, suspiciously.

"do you not like turkey?" euijoo asked, cheeks stuffed full of bread.

he watched as you crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between you and the sandwich and, thus, you and euijoo. you lifted the top slice of bread, examining the layers of toppings. it actually looked delicious, which surprised you less than you anticipated. "turkey's good," you gave him a small, hesitant smile, "thanks."

euijoo hummed in reponse, gaze transfixed on the shrinking space between your mouth and your lunch. he watched your lips part, watched the bread rest on the plush flesh of them as you bit into the corner of the crust. as you swallowed the first bite, he asked, "so how'd you, uh, sleep? with your new toy?"

you would have dropped the sandwich if you weren't so hyper aware of his eyes on you, of his presence so close but so far, just within arms reach. the short answer was that you didn't; the long answer was that, every time you closed your eyes, you replayed the subtle tensing and flexing of his stomach as he drove himself to orgasm, the clenching of damp honeyed skin in the dim light of his room. you slammed your laptop shut before you actually saw him tip fully over the edge, but your brain filled in the gaps until sunrise. in fact, your brain was still filling in the gaps, even standing right next to him.

"great," you lied, rotating the sandwich in your hand, looking for the next best bite. lunch and small talk. euijoo had definitely been cloned and replaced. "yeah, they were totally worth the money."

"good," he nodded, watching as you took another bite. crumbs fell like fresh snow, dusting the front of your shirt, coating the fabric pulled taut by the swell of your chest. he inhaled deeply, releasing the breath as an airy laugh, "just curious since, you know, i have a personal investment," he wiggled his bandaged finger in the space between you, just in case you might have successfully repressed the image of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the bandage stark against the flushed underside.

you laughed, too. it felt like that was all you could do. "right," you said, pushing through the heaviness in your chest, at the creeping feeling that he knew that you knew.

the two of you ate the rest of your sandwiches in silence.

that night, your clothes were folded neatly on the foot of your bed, sorted by color. this, of course, incited a new wave of daydreams, this time of the domestic variety; you pictured euijoo, laundry piled high in his arms, making the trek from the dryer to your bedroom— thinking about him in your bedroom— tucking your shirts under his chin, pairing your socks, and lining up the seams of your jeans. when he asked to move your clothes, you expected to find them in a messy pile on your bed. instead, you returned to find pristine stacks and a turkey sandwich. nicholas's voice spun in your head: he's like a housewife; does he cook for you?

whatever guilt you carried that first night dwindled over the following weeks into a hollow pang in the back of your throat, the echo of a faucet dripping in a silent and empty house. you felt fully consumed by him; euijoo was a dark cloud, rumbling thunder in the middle of the night. you had accidentally trained yourself to get turned on by your frustration, so every time you slipped into bed and placed your headphones over your ears, your core fluttered. your stomach twisted into one singular knot that only grew more complicated the longer you fended off the invasive mental images of euijoo relaxing into his pillows, almost parallel to you physically. each of you lay propped up, laptop angled toward you, your own hands unraveling that knot in synchronized rhythm.

it was nearly every night for you, too, now. you even made an account on the site to skip the ads, just so you didn't miss a single second of his stream. it amused you to see other viewers in his live chat thirsting over him, and it made you proud in a fucked up way that you knew the truth, that you knew what color his toothbrush was, that he jumped every time the toaster went ding! and that he checked over both shoulders after to make sure that no one saw. for two weeks, you tuned into his streams. for two weeks, you had let yourself succumb to the building desire you'd pushed down until you were full, spilling over. and tonight, you would do it again.

you slipped your headphones over your ears, using them now to keep your laptop's noise in rather than to keep euijoo's noise out. the shame stirred in your chest, barely noticeable but still there, as you pulled up his page and waited. you could hear him in the kitchen, filling a glass with water and slamming the cabinet a bit too harshly for the hour. but you didn't expect any less from him. the floor creaked with every step he took to his room, the hinge squeaking as he opened and closed the door behind him. you could hear him opening drawers and pushing them closed. he flipped his light switch off, and you kicked yourself at the way your heart began to thrum in your chest, how quickly your finger clicked to refresh the page.

and when user byunny finally went live, you felt every part of your body that had once been aflame run cold, the wet of your veins shattering like icicles tossed upon packed snow. you were sure you gasped out loud, mouth hanging open, at the sight before you. euijoo's streams were usually slow, starting with a teasing, casual segment that showcased the growing bulge in whatever pants he had decided to wear. sometimes, they were sweatpants; sometimes, they were printed pajamas; always, they looked damn good on him. tonight, however, there was no teasing, no slow-paced stroking or conversation. tonight, there was no clothing at all except the brightly colored panties crumpled in his fist.

"what the fuck," you mumbled to yourself, leaning in closer to the screen to examine the baby blue fabric, stark against the angry red tip of his cock. the friction was audible, layered beneath his desperate panting. it seemed like all you could do was mutter the phrase over and over to yourself as your poor, confused body decided whether to be pissed. you couldn't deny the warmth that pooled between your legs, just as you couldn't deny the burn in your cheeks as you realized he was broadcasting your underwear to all of his viewers. the heat everywhere amplified as you thought about him rummaging through your drawers, picking through pair after pair in search of those specifically. or did he get them from your laundry, which he so graciously offered to move and then fold, unprompted?

surely, it was all coincidence. it had to be a gimmick, an easy way to satisfy another viewer's request. you'd seen him try all kinds of weird things in just the short time you'd been watching. one viewer asked him to hold a spoon while he jacked off and scoop up his cum with it after. another asked him to narrate every action and voice every thought he had, and the next night wanted him silent. every wish was fulfilled without any argument, any question; his obedience was one of his favored traits among his viewers. so, it made sense to think that someone asked him to get off with a pair of underwear, and it made sense that he had snuck a pair of yours to do so. it didn't have to mean anything.

"wish this was your pussy instead of your panties- fuck," euijoo groaned, twisting the material tighter between his palm and his skin. your mouth was somehow drier than sand, throat closing despite the drool that threatened to spill from the corners of your mouth at the way the thick vein on the underside of his cock gleamed in the harsh light from his screen. the angle was the same every time, highlighting the curve of his waist around the contracting muscles of his stomach. he choked out a desperate sound, "wish it was you- wish i was, fuck, grinding my cock against your ass until i couldn't take it anymore."

was he talking about you? few other explanations held up when you looked at the facts. he was fucking your panties— who else would he be talking about? an idea flickered, arrived in a flash and left even quicker: you would knock, once, on the wall. you would knock, once, on the same wall that drove you to insanity because of just how thin it really was. realistically, he probably could have heard the blankets rustling as you lifted your arm. he could have heard the grinding of your bones in your hand as you balled your fingers into a fist. he most definitely heard the solid, singular knock that reverberated, first, through your room. it was absolute, like the final placement of an empty mug on a coaster. in your headphones, you heard the knock again, about four seconds later. if nothing else, he would take it as a noise complaint, but the way his hand slowed, the way he inhaled like it hurt, told you that euijoo took the knock exactly as you intended— an answer.

euijoo released his breath as a dry, low chuckle. "are you watching, princess?" he asked, "i kind of thought you might be, but i wasn't sure." his voice was deeper than usual, rough like pavement, and it went straight through you. the pet name, the suspicion, the way he knew what you were up to the whole time and didn't change a thing about his routine. it was shameless, confident. euijoo adjusted the panties around him, flattening the soft cotton against the length of him and letting the lace trim decorate the top of his hand. "i hope you dont mind that i borrowed these. they peek out of the top of your jeans sometimes and drive me fucking crazy." he slid his hand up and down, slowly, bunching the material with every stroke, "do you do that on purpose? knock once for yes."

to everyone else, it had to have appeared scripted. perverted roommate gets caught by other, equally perverted roommate. it was all so real, all so shocking to you; were you that oblivious? had you been too distracted by how loud and hot he was to notice that he was distracted by you, too? how many times had euijoo watched you scurry from the shower to your room, peering through the crack in his door as you held your towel up with one hand? you'd done several things to try for his attention, of course, like wearing low-cut tops when your friends went out together, sitting next to him in the backseat and asking him so, so sweetly to buckle your seatbelt for you. but none of that seemed to affect him as much as the cheap, blue panties that sat just a bit too high for your jeans. you squeezed your thighs closer together, picturing his eyes lingering on your hips every time you bent over, rummaging through the fridge for a drink or untying your shoes.

you knocked once.

"fuck, i knew it," euijoo stifled a groan, "knew you weren't as innocent as you seemed. you wouldn't be watching me if that were the case, would you?" you could hear the smirk in his voice, "wouldn't be touching yourself to me, either— timing your orgasms with mine. too fucking sweet." your chest would surely be bruised from how hard your heart was beating, leaping forward and bouncing back off your ribs in erratic jolts. euijoo whispered, like it was a secret, only meant for you, "i can hear you, too. did you know that, doll? knock."

this time, you knocked twice for no. you were nowhere near as loud as he was, even going so far as to stuff your mouth with your shirt to ensure that you were more than silent. when he heard your knocks, he squeezed his long, slender fingers around the base of his cock, jerking his hips up involuntarily.

euijoo grunted, then hummed, "mhm, i can hear every pretty little sigh, every delicious moan. like music, baby. better than fucking music. to know im helping you feel good, so good you cant even look at me the next day— fuck." he gulped down any restraint he might have had, preparing to take a leap that would either result in you in his bed or him looking for a new place to live. "i wish you were here right now, fisting my cock for me," he said, "want you to make me come, baby. would you like that, too? i'm sure my friends here wouldn't mind."

the next knock wasn't on his wall but on his door, just as you pushed it open with a shaking hand. you weren't sure what came over you, what posessed your body and carried you from your bed to his room. the version of you that texted euijoo four months ago, offering him the spare room, would have never imagined that you'd have ended up here. as the door swung open, you took your first look at his bedroom. the door was always closed, even when he was out of the apartment, taunting you like a locked chest packed full of antique treasures and baubles. even in the dim lighting, his walls were charming, decorated with posters and photos. his shelves were lined with collectibles and keepsakes. every inch of space was uniquely him, aside from the corner of the room captured by the webcam on his laptop, which was undistinguishable from any other white wall and bed with plain sheets in the world. the only thing that stood out was euijoo himself, propped up on pillows to achieve that perfect angle you'd grown so fond of.

this angle was better.

this angle, peering down at him from your place in the doorway, revealed everything you'd been deprived of through the screen. his hair was disheveled, beads of sweat bunching the ends of his bangs into jagged points that stuck out every which way against the flushed skin of his forehead. his shirt had been discarded and left in a crumpled heap on the floor next to his bed, leaving his shoulders and neck to be carved by the harsh shadows from the computer's artificial lighting. the sheen on his chest traveled all the way to the top of his hips, where he was still stroking himself in slow, languid motions, as though he were trying really hard to drag this whole situation out.

"hi, pretty," euijoo smiled, and you could see it now, so sweet, so different from the lewd scene before you, "come here. dont be shy."

you crossed the room, timidly, and closed the distance between you, swallowing your nerves like two tough, chalky pills. he tracked your every move with heavy-lidded, dark eyes. the air was thick, hot; it felt like swimming, like being boiled alive. euijoo's skin was hot, too, as you approached him on the bed and his left hand reached out to brush your arm, to coax you closer. your knees hit the side of the mattress, slightly shaking the camera, which your eyes refused to leave. you could see your shadow cast over him, suddenly aware that there was still an audience, that just because you closed your laptop to come finish the job, the hundreds of other people didn't. in fact, they tuned in, closer, more intently. you were part of the show, now, and it made your throat feel impossibly drier.

"don't worry about them," euijoo reassured you, drawing soft circles on the skin of your upper arm, "pretend they're not there. just you and me, yeah?" you wished it could have been. so badly, you wanted to be alone with him, to have this moment all to yourself. this was as good as it was going to get, at least for now.

you nodded and repeated, "just you and me," as you crawled up into his bed, your knees sinking into the plush material of the mattress. your heart sank, too, all the way to the bottom of your stomach where it pumped all the blood directly to your core.

"there you go," euijoo praised, and you visibly relaxed, "i'm all yours, baby. touch me however you want, but you know how i like it."

and then you were touching him, your hand replacing his around the base of his throbbing cock, discarding the panties altogether. you'd done nothing but touch your underwear for weeks. you wanted to feel him. euijoo hissed as the cool skin of your fingers settled on him, setting him ablaze with a scorching sensitivity. the first real contact of skin on skin, of your palm dragging aching swipes down his twitching cock. his hips lifted as your thumb smeared the pearly beads of his arousal with every stroke. your touch was gentle, but your pace was not.

"fuck, just like that," he sighed, leaning back, hands threading into the loose sheets, "feels so good."

slowly, his persona began to crumble, chipping away more and more with every jerk of your wrist, until he was putty beneath you. until he was a perfect puddle, bucking up helplessly into your hand. it felt, for a second, like it really was just the two of you. until you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the screen, and your attention flickered from watching the blissful crease in his brow deepen and smooth to the frantic, desperate motion of your hand, blurred by the stream's lag. it melted the two of you into one, a muddled and pixelated form identified as human only by the sounds euijoo was unable to hold back the closer you brought him to the edge. whines, whimpers— all softer, more raw, than the exaggerated moans and grunts he put on for the sake of his audience.

with your hand wrapped around him, he sounded like he was yours.

"i'm close," euijoo blindly pawed at the fabric of your shorts, the inner seam undoubtedly soaked, "i was close before you even started, close just thinking about you."

there was something still a little unnerving about speaking, if not because of the hundreds of viewers then because you didn't want to slip up and say something wrong, something stupid. you were distracted by the possibility of saying his name, of giving away his identity by accident and ruining everything. so, you settled for eye contact, for dragging your nails down his side and watching as the subtle red welts followed in their wake. you settled for a quiet intimacy as his plush lips fell open and you shared the same breath.

all euijoo could manage was a rushed warning, a choked, "coming-" before his hips rolled one final time into your hand, his release spurting out and over in hot streams. a constant pulse of pleasure racked through his body as you worked him, slowly, milking every last drop until he was whining, doing everything he could to not chant your name like a prayer.

you'd have taken this over a turkey sandwich any day.

your hand, covered in his cum, stilled at the base of his still twitching, sensitive cock. euijoo, with his chest still heaving, reached over and gently wiped the back of your palm with familiar soft, blue fabric. that same gentleness you'd used in the kitchen weeks ago, when he had cut his finger helping you open your package and you'd smoothed the bandage over his skin, was staring right back at you, cheeks flushed and forehead sticky with sweat.

you were panting, too, like you'd done anything but ruin the underwear you were currently wearing. everything happened so fast, so suddenly that it felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking. it was the same dream you'd drank herbal teas and massaged pressure points to avoid having every night, the one where you and euijoo ended up in a puddle of sweat. only you were awake, now, fully drunk on the scent of him, the sound of him.

and the look of him, just like the audience, which you were now acutely aware of as euijoo carefully wiped away the last of his release from your skin.

euijoo motioned vaguely toward the laptop with a nod, a confident and aimless tip of his head, "end it," he said and, with an arrogant, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his bitten lips, added "unless you want them to watch me fuck you senseless."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@wenomakiluvr @guliexe @cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes

@kjjupilled @xionvlog @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings

@luperque @ikeuholica @nichozzystuffs @s3ungh4nsgf @zzniya

@livelaughloveseventeen @purrplegyuu @yuuniversezx @yukisroom97 @ateez-atiny380

@sunoosun00 @tayl82 @bubbletsworld @iluvujo @euijoo1sidechick

@deersui @eunchaerrypie @7yataki @luv4jaeyun @yvalrik

[minhosimthings]

Currently thinking about alpha!euijoo and his rare moments of jealousy

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, alpha!euijoo, omega!fem!reader, mean euijoo I am fucking moaning bro, KNOTTINGGGG

"Mine."

Euijoo's growl rang low in your ear as he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath coming far too fast for somebody dubbed "the calmest alpha."

And he was calm—your beloved Euijoo. So gentle and saccharine sweet that many people couldn't believe that you were his omega.

He was the man who remembered exactly how you liked your tea, who tucked your hair behind your ear with a gaze so tender it felt like a prayer. But hey, all it took was that low tone of his just a week into dating, his chest pressing to your back as he leaned to grab a jar of honey from the top shelf with a soft "excuse me there, baby" and you were practically begging to be his.

Honey had never tasted so nectar-like until it was tasted off of his lips. You were sure that was the place the gods received their ambrosia from; the way he had tasted you then was a promise of the devotion he would show you, a soft prelude to a symphony you weren't yet prepared for.

The contrast was dizzying. You had always known Euijoo as your alpha whose touch was a caress and whose voice was a soothing melody. He was the steady hand in the storm, the one who provided a sanctuary of peace in a world of chaos.

But the man currently pinning you into the mattress was a (mind-blowing) stranger—a creature of raw, territorial instinct driven mad by the pheromones of his own rut and the lingering scent of another alpha on your skin.

The sweetness had curdled into something dark and intoxicating, a hunger that didn't just want your love, but your complete and utter surrender.

As he made love to you, it was like Euijoo was claiming you as his all over again.

His pretty omega, only his.

Euijoo’s body was a heavy, burning weight, crushing you deep into the mattress. His fingers dug into your hips, bruising the pale skin as he drove himself into you with a brutal, rhythmic violence.

There was no hesitation now, no gentle questioning; there was only the primal need to overwrite every other scent and touch that had dared to graze you. Every thrust was a punctuation mark, a declaration of ownership that left you breathless and shaking.

"Did you like it?" he growled, his voice rasping and stripped of its usual softness.

Euijoo nipped harshly at the junction of your shoulder and neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your scent gland. He lingered there, his breath hot against the pulse point that hammered frantically under his lips.

"Did you like that pathetic excuse for an alpha sniffing around you, baby? Did you enjoy the attention?"

You let out a broken whimper, your head tossing back against the pillows. You could feel the heat of him radiating off his skin, a feverish intensity that seemed to warp the very air around you. The sheer intensity of his heat radiated off him in waves, filling the room with the thick, cloying scent of musk and dominance.

"I… I didn't—"

"Shhh," he cut you off, his pace increasing, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the quiet room.

Euijoo gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head, locking you in place so you had nowhere to look but into his eyes—eyes that were dark, blown wide with a predatory hunger that made your toes curl.

"Look at you. So desperate, so open for me. You’re such a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Oh god, the tip of his dick was hitting right into your cervix; he was fucking so so good, it was like all your mind could think about was him.

The world outside the bedroom ceased to exist; there was no other alpha, no other scent, only the crushing weight of Euijoo and the way he filled every empty space inside you.

That sweet scent, those lean hips, that tall frame—Euijoo Euijoo Euijoo, his name was a desperate sinner's prayer looking for salvation. Salvation, you found in his beautiful dick giving your body what it needed.

"Just a pathetic little omega who needs her alpha to remind her who she belongs to."

Despite the harshness, there was a flicker of that familiar devotion in his eyes, though it was clouded by lust and jealousy. He shifted his grip, pulling your legs wider, hooking them over his shoulders to sink even deeper into your heat.

Euijoo wanted to be as close as physically possible, as if he could merge his very soul with yours to ensure no one else could ever find a gap to slip through. As he hit your sweet spot with a punishing force, he groaned, the sound vibrating through your entire chest.

"But you're my pathetic little thing," he murmured, his tone shifting into a sudden, jarring blend of praise and possession. "My beautiful, perfect love. Only I get to fuck you like this, yeah?"

The friction was becoming unbearable, a white-hot tension building in the pit of your stomach. You were clinging to him, your nails digging into the muscles of his back, pulling him closer even as you felt you were about to break. Euijoo felt it too; his breathing became erratic, his movements turning frantic, desperate to reach the end.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and bit down—hard. Euijoo didn't break the skin, but the pressure was immense, marking you deeply, flooding your senses with the overwhelming realization that you were completely his. The pain was a spark that ignited the final explosion of pleasure.

Then, the shift happened.

You felt the base of his cock begin to swell, the knot expanding rapidly inside you. You gasped, your eyes widening as you were stretched to your absolute limit, locked firmly to him.

The sensation was overwhelming, a feeling of total fullness that anchored you to the mattress. You'd only taken his knot once before this and you were sure your gummy walls and your stomach could still remember the warmth of it, but this time it felt more permanent, more definitive.

Euijoo let out a guttural moan, his body shuddering as he came, filling you to the brim. He collapsed against you, his heavy chest heaving, but he didn't let go. He held you tight, the knot keeping you fused together in the most intimate way possible, forcing you to feel every single throb of his release.

Euijoo began to kiss the mark he had left on your neck, his lips now soft and lingering, that mean side receding as the afterglow of the rut settled in. He was back to being your sweet Euijoo, though the way he held you suggested he wasn't quite ready to let go.

"You're mine, baby," he whispered, his voice returning to that saccharine sweetness, though the possessive edge remained. "Every inch of you. Don't ever let another alpha breathe your air again, my love. Do you understand?"

You let out a soft, exhausted hum of agreement, leaning into his warmth. You loved your sweet Euijoo, of course—but as you felt him still pulsing inside you, you couldn't help but wonder how soon you could provoke his mean wolf to come out.

Probably the next time you went into heat, with your womb all ripe for his taking.

fin.

A/N: Alpha euijoo for the win. Everybody blame @doyoueverthinkofrose for putting alpha euijoo into my mind she is genuinely insane rosie i love you This has been in my drafts for god knows how long so have it my munchkins

divider by @dividers-are-us

@eu1joo @frenchkisstheabyss @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added!

@berrybittynetwork my beloveds

[eu1joo]

— office hours (18+) | byun euijoo

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.” 

“promise?”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@wenomakiluvr @guliexe @cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes @kjjupilled @xionvlog @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings

@luperque @ikeuholica @nichozzystuffs @s3ungh4nsgf @zzniya @livelaughloveseventeen @purrplegyuu @yuuniversezx

[minhosimthings]

Killshot, Baby! || 18+

Synopsis: Who better to comfort you after your heart break over an unrequited love that your best friend, Euijoo? And who better to take your virginity as well?

Pairing: best friend Euijoo x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), oral (f receiving), fingering, virginity loss (f), corruption kink, dom!euijoo, sub!reader, big dih euijoo my beloved, SIZE KINK, a bit of dumbification?, pervert euijoo, panty sniffing yay, masturbation (m), reader is ultra feminine and lowkey dumb asf i would be too for euijoo, euijoo lowkey toxic af but we love him, Nicholas slander sorry bby i love you, not proofread gomenesai

A/N: anon deserves head for requesting this I FUCKING LOVE THIS FIC best thing i've put out till date no i will not take any arguments. legit got the worst writer's block on this but the power of byun euijoo's cheeks coursed through my clit and i finished it. Panty sniffer euijoo is something I never thought I'd be turned on by but hey here we are my pussy is ready to be bred euijoo. As always, enjoy, my sweethearts!

Word Count: 12.9k (romance babes romance)

Your friends knew, your brother knew, the grocery store cashier knew, the milky way and her children knew. Practically the entire universe knew of your crush on Wang Yixiang. 

So it was one of two options: either he was dumb as fuck or you just weren’t his type. 

Yeah, there was no way it would be the second option.

As pathetic and disappointing to feminism as it seemed, you had somewhat molded yourself to fit his type. Maybe not his type exactly, but at least a version that could talk to him as easily as the cicadas talked to the morning. The type that could slap his arm playfully when he made a joke and giggle a giggle that would sound like cherry coke. The type that wore baggy jeans and layered belts, just like him. The type that wasn't a quiet, withdrawn bitch that didn't talk to anybody, wrapped in her own ribbons and lace. The type that would be loud.

So when the day died out and you came back home, exhausted from your fictitious persona, you found solace in the one person that knew the true you.

“You look ridiculous with that on.” Euijoo chuckled, watching you wipe away your dark eyeliner—something you barely wore, “I’m surprised he didn't ask if you’re possessed, love." 

“Shut up.” You said, glancing at him in the vanity mirror. He was leaning back against the headboard of your bed, one arm thrown over his head lazily, while the other went back to scrolling on his phone, “And he did compliment me today, you absolute dick.” 

“You call that a compliment?” Euijoo laughed, throwing his phone down and sitting up, looking at your concentrated face in the mirror removing your makeup. Cute, Euijoo thought. His eyes briefly went down to your thighs in your shorts and then up, thankfully you didn't notice.

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Confessing to his best friend who he had been thirsting over (and masturbating to the image of) ever since last summer was not one of them. 

In his defence however……ok he had no defense. Other than the fact that you were the most angelic person he had ever laid his eyes on. And god bless his heart (and dick), the poor boy had had a crush on you since 11th grade.

He knew it would be like all those books you read, the ones in which the guy is whole heartedly, heart-poundingly, cock-crushingly in love with the female lead, who ends up with somebody else. The second male lead syndrome, as you called it, passionately declaring that you would always love the second male lead more.

Euijoo wanted to stand in front of you with a spray painted sign that read “I am your IRL second male lead.”

What on earth did Yixiang even have that he didn't? Apart from the bad-boy look, the beautifully dyed blonde hair, the piercings, the tattoos that he designed himself, the motorbike, the cool sneakers, the–

Euijoo was beginning to see why.

He hadn't noticed it at first, though in hindsight to him now, it was scathingly obvious. The way you asked about Yixiang like nobody else mattered, the way you laughed a little harder at his very unfunny jokes, the way you lingered just a second too long when he was near, the way your voice softened when you said his name. Euijoo used to be the only one who’d hear that sweet tone of yours. 

When you had first confided in him about your earth shattering obsession for Yixiang, he wanted to laugh. You two were polar opposites, oil and water. Of course, opposites do attract but you needed to have a common base first—and there were barely any similarities between you two. You guys didn’t even like the same genre of music! 

And then when he brought it up, you only laughed (your pretty little laugh) and told him about your plan. Authenticity be fucked, he recalled you saying, all you needed to do was get Yixiang interested. Euijoo would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a bit sorry for you. 

If he knew anything about Yixiang, he knew that he wasn’t the type to fall for girls like you. Honey-sweet girls, pale blue ribbons in your hair, starry eyes that looked up at him in a way that made him want to drop to his knees and worship. Honey sweet girls who lived in the clouds and in words, who couldn't handle the emotions that came with being heart-broken. 

Euijoo knew you could protect yourself, that you were a woman with a fully functioning brain, but he also couldn't bear the image of you sobbing your heart out the day Yixiang eventually rejected you. He knew he couldn't predict the future and there could be a sliver of a chance for the both of you—but in his humble, knowledgeable opinion, that sliver was smaller than his will to live. 

But deep inside, he wanted Yixiang to reject you. He wanted so badly for you to come home to him as you always did, for you to sit down on his bed and ask with those pretty pink lips to have him hold you in his arms as you cried into his chest. It scared him sometimes how badly he wanted such a cruel thing. 

But could he really be blamed? When you fit so beautifully in his arms like you were made for his solace alone, like you two were matching puzzle pieces? When he was the only one who knew the deepest, darkest parts of you? When he was the one who had always been there, through desert and storm? Euijoo was a man of many philosophies. At least ninety percent of them revolved around you.

“You coming to Yixiang’s party on the 14th?” You asked, crawling up the bed to reach him, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your shorts barely covered your thighs, a strap of your camisole was slipping off of your shoulder and you were looking at him like he held the world in his arms. How was a man supposed to survive?

“Maybe.” Euijoo hummed, tossing his phone to the side and patting the space beside him, which you quickly occupied, immediately curling into his chest.

You stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying a word, just staring off into space as time ticked away. Euijoo wanted this moment to last forever, just the two of you pressed together like the stars pressed against the dark sky, one of your legs thrown across his, your tits very visible to him as you rested your head on his chest. 

“What’s that pretty little head thinking about, hmm love?” He said soothingly, running his slender fingers through your hair. He felt you exhale shakily against him.

“I think…” You started, then you sat up, turning around to face him again, “I’m gonna tell him in two days.” Euijoo stared at you blankly for about ten seconds, as if trying to get your words to penetrate his mind, “Oh don’t look at me like that Ju.” You chuckled, looking down at your fiddling fingers, “If not now, when?” 

Euijoo kept staring, with that peculiar look in his eyes that you just couldn't figure out. That look in his eyes that always looked like a night sky enveloping a thunderstorm. You told him that once and he had laughed awkwardly, excusing himself to go get a bottle of water. 

“In two days?” Euijoo said at last, sitting up to lean his back against the headboard, “At the party?” His voice was quieter than usual, as you nodded meekly, “I see…”

“That’s all you have to say?” You tilted your head at him, playfully reaching out a hand to grab his chin and tilt his face around, “Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?” 

Euijoo’s soft smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he took your hand in his, rubbing circles over your wrist with his thumb. He stared at your joined hands for a while, his breath even and steady as he refused to meet your gaze. 

“Ju?” You said gently, “Ju, what is it?” You slowly brought your joined hands up, resting your cheek in his palm. Oh this girl, Euijoo thought, letting out a shuddered breath as he saw how you were looking at him. He tried hard not to let his gaze flicker down.

“It’s nothing, love.” He said, his tone tranquil, “I just….” A breath, “Are you sure? Like a hundred percent sure?” He laughed at your offended expression, shifting closer, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you love, that’s it.”

“Bad?” You said, with a curious tint in your voice, “Why would anything bad happen?” 

Because Yixiang doesn't like you. 

Euijoo wanted to scream it out, cradle your face in his hands and tell you those five magical words. He didn’t care if it hurt you even more than whatever Yixiang would say; he didn’t care if this one fuck up got him barred from hearing your angelic voice ever again. 

But like all men, he held his tongue.

“It’s probably nothing, I’m just worrying too much.” Euijoo laughed, settling down again, holding out his hand to pull you back for cuddles, “You know how I am, don’t you?”

“That I do.” You giggled, happily going back to your cuddling position, “We can get ready together on the 14th and I can show you what I got for Yixiang.” 

“Of course, love.” Euijoo hummed, closing his eyes to allow his mind a second of peace. Which he failed to attain, his mind sending him the most outrageous scenarios ever of the events that would transpire tomorrow.

How slowly the night did fall today.

______________

“Teach me how to kiss.” 

Byun Euijoo’s cause of death would have been asphyxiation if you didn't slap him on the back to push the popcorn lodged in his throat out.

“Is this because I said your scarves are ugly.” Euijoo said, rubbing his chest as he put the popcorn bowl down to avoid any more accidents, “Is this my karma?” 

“You’re so dramatic.” You said, pausing the show on the tv and turning to face him on the couch. You took both his hands in yours and stared at him with a seriousness that could have rivalled a professor’s, “I need you to teach me how to kiss so that I don’t fuck it up with Yixiang.” 

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Euijoo said, running a hand through his hair, “We don’t even know what Yixiang is gonna say to you.”

“Are you saying you don’t have faith in my plan?” You said, with a pout on your lips, “You don’t trust me, Ju?”

“Of course I trust you but—”

“Then teach me.” Your faces were mere inches apart in seconds, “Teach me how to kiss.” You crossed your arms and looked at him with challenging eyes, “Or do you not love me anymore?”

It's because I love you, you idiot. 

Euijoo sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. What had life even come to? What had he done in the past for the universe to serve him this—the woman he loved asking him to teach her how to kiss—on a silver platter? Euijoo wouldn't have minded if death came for him at that moment.

“Fine.” 

“Really?” You said excitedly, clapping your hands together, “You’re the best Euijoo has anybody told you that.”

“Yeah yeah I know.” Euijoo let out a breathy chuckle. What the actual fuck was he doing? Practically every remaining inch of logic in him was screaming at him to get up and drown himself in a lake, but here he was, breathing in deeply to remind himself how to kiss. He hadn't done it in quite a while—his last casual hookup was perhaps five months ago.

"Alright, first things first. You need to relax." He moved his hands from yours to your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing his touch down your arms. "Tension is said to be the enemy of a good kiss."

“Who says that—”

“Do you want to learn or not?”

You rolled your eyes, nevertheless nodding, feeling your muscles loosen under his ministrations. Euijoo smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, gaze flickering down to your lips.

“Good, now close your eyes.” He waited until you did, then leaned in close. His breath ghosted over your lips as he spoke softly, “Now just…..picture Yixiang if it makes this easier.”

Euijoo mentally slammed his head against a pole when he heard himself say that. ‘If it makes this easier’, who the fuck even says that?

You cracked a mischievous eye open, trying to keep a smile in, when you saw how close Euijoo was, there was barely any air between you two. 

“Arms on my shoulders.” He said, you felt him shudder a bit when you followed his instructions but that could have been a figment of your imagination. His hand creeped uncertainly to rest on your thigh. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you ample time to pull away. You didn't.

Euijoo tasted like cherry cola, fizzy and electric against your lips, though his lips were soft and warm as they moved on yours like a choreographed dance. You breathed shakily into the kiss and he intertwined his fingers in yours. 

“Slow down, love.” He murmured, not opening his eyes, “We don’t have anywhere to be.” Euijoo's hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. 

In all honesty, he could have evaporated into the air right there and then. The taste of you drove him insane, sweet—oh so fucking sweet, honey straight from the comb on a spring evening, when the scent of lilacs would fill the air and there would be butterflies everywhere.

In shorter words, Byun Euijoo’s cock was screaming at him to take care of it.

“Hmm, like this?” You mumbled, and then his world came crashing down when you moved forward, practically settling yourself into his lap.

Euijoo swallowed hard, his pulse jumping at the feel of your soft curves settling into his lap. The heat of your body seeped through the fabric of his shorts, making his already throbbing cock twitch with renewed interest. He knew he should put a stop to this before it went too far, but damn if he could find the strength to do so. Not when you felt this good in his arms.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, eyes tracing over, god fuck him you were still looking at him with those innocent eyes, “Just….he might do something like this too.”

His hands slid around to the small of your back, holding you close as he went in for another one, a deeper kiss. His tongue delved past your parted lips to stroke along yours in a sensual dance that left you breathless.

“Oh…” You said, finally ending the kiss after a long moment.

“Not bad for a first timer.” Euijoo teased, “But love, could you maybe get off now?” He raised a brow as you blinked at him, once, twice and then scrambled off his lap.

“Sorry about that.” You laughed awkwardly, “Just felt I should do that for some reason.” 

“I’m sure he’d love it.” Euijoo said, how the actual hell did you not sense the tone of his voice?

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, light and giddy, “Thank you so much Ju!” You flung your arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Euijoo wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. As he always did, of course. As all best friends do! 

“Wanna play some League?” You said, withdrawing from the hug.

“Sure, love.”

As all best friends fucking do.

__________________

Euijoo leaned back in his gaming chair with a heavy sigh, tossing his headset aside after a late night gaming session. He had left your house at 7 pm, walking back home with barely a brain cell left in him. You had kissed his cheek before he left as you always did, but this time, it inflamed every single molecule that made up his being. He spread his legs wide, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

The beautiful flesh of your thighs, the curve of your neck where it met your shoulders, that look in your eyes, the taste of you….

Euijoo pushed himself up, walking to his closet. Opening it, he bent down to his knees and reached deep inside, shuffling his hand around till his fingers grazed it. 

He slowly pulled it out and sighed, sitting on his knees on the floor as he stared at it, his cock already straining against his shorts. You must have bought this one on sale, you never really liked it much, which explained why you didn't notice when it went missing from your house. 

Euijoo climbed onto his bed, bringing the pair of baby-pink cotton panties up to his face. He buried his nose into the soft fabric, letting the scent fill his senses. God it smelled exactly like you, so fucking honey sweet. 

Euijoo breathed in deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent that clung to the delicate fabric. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the lingering traces of your perfume and the musk of your arousal. Would you have worn this when you let your pretty little fingers linger to your sweet cunt? The heady aroma sent a jolt of electric desire straight to his throbbing cock, making it pulse with need.

He brought the panties to his mouth, running his tongue along the crotch. The salty-sweet taste burst across his taste buds, making him groan. He closed his eyes, letting the fantasy take hold as he pictured you spread out beneath him, flushed and panting with desire.

In his mind's eye, Euijoo could see every curve of your luscious body, from your gorgeous breasts down to the enticing cleft between your thighs. He ached to bury his face in your slick folds, to lap at your dripping pussy until you were writhing and screaming his name.

As he lost himself in the erotic daydream, Euijoo fumbled with the button of his shorts, shoving them down just enough to free his straining erection. His fingers curled around his thick shaft, giving it a firm stroke as he imagined how good it would feel to drive deep inside your tight heat.

Euijoo shuddered, picturing your breathy moans as he rocked into you, stretching you open on his hard length. He could feel your velvet walls gripping him, trying to milk his cock for all he was worth. He chuckled as he imagined your mouth falling open in an ‘o’, your nails drawing blood on his back.  With each mental thrust, he pumped his hand faster along his pulsing flesh, racing towards his climax.

Tension coiled tight in Euijoo's belly as he fucked into his fist with short, sharp strokes. He could almost hear your keening cries, feel your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you with desperate abandon. 

With a strangled groan, Euijoo threw his head back as pleasure crashed over him in intense waves. His cock jerked in his grasp as he shuddered through each pulse of his orgasm, picturing your face contorted in ecstasy as you came undone beneath him.

Finally spent, Euijoo collapsed back on the bed, his chest heaving as he gulped down air. He knew it wasn't the real thing, but damn if jerking off to thoughts of you didn't make for one hell of a mind-blowing orgasm. 

“Fuck…” He said softly, tossing the panties below his bed. With a blissful sigh, he let the post-orgasmic haze pull him under into a deep, satiated slumber.

Sweet, honey filled slumber. 

_________________

Euijoo often thought before he acted, a rare quality among human beings nowadays. However, there were rare occasions where he didn’t do that, the keyword being rare.

And today was one of those rare occasions! How fun! 

God damn his cock controlled brain—the version which only operated when he was around you—for saying yes to you asking him to help you pick out a dress for the party. Euijoo dressed casually, just a pair of blue jeans and a yellow shirt that fit him tight at the chest.

You, on the other hand, were throwing out the shortest dresses from the depths of your closet. And Euijoo was only a man.

“This one?” You said, looking up and down at yourself in the mirror, glancing at Euijoo sprawled out on the bed behind you, “Don’t say it looks good, you’ve said the same thing for the last five dresses!”

“Have you ever considered the fact that it's because you look good in all of them?”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this, Byun.” You said, spinning around to face him, “Now look properly and tell me which one!”

Whichever one would keep you here and away from confessing to Yixiang.

Euijoo’s eyes raked up and down, admiring the way the short silver dress hugged every curve of your body, cutting off right at your mid thigh, the thin straps showing off your shoulders beautifully. Thank god his hand was covering his crotch.

“Doesn’t Yixiang wear a lot of red?” Euijoo said, throwing an arm over his head, feigning exhaustion, “I think the velvet one would do.”

“You’re actually a genius.” You said, crossing over to pick up the discarded red dress lying on the floor, calling out to you like gold to a midas, “And stop sulking Ju, you agreed to this on your own volition.”

“I call it manipulation.” Euijoo called out, watching you slip into the bathroom to change. As soon as you were gone, his hand worked on his crotch, slowly palming his cock through the fabric. Hopefully, there weren't any hidden cameras in this room, he thought, glancing suspiciously at your teddy bears sitting on the shelf.

“Ok what do we think?” 

Euijoo needed to dip his head into a bucket of ice water and never come up for air ever again.

The delicate fabric clung to your curves in all the right places, the neckline just low enough to be enticing—a faux vixen’s play. It nipped at your waist before flaring out slightly at the hips. Euijoo’s gaze trailed over your bare shoulders,, a shiver running down his spine as heat flushed through him.

“Hello? Earth to Byun Euijoo.” You laughed, catching your reflection in the mirror, a thrill of excitement running through you at the thought of seeing Yixiang’s eye at the party. You twirled once in front of the full-length mirror, the skirt flaring out around your thighs.

“Y-Yeah. You look good.” He said, clearing his throat, “We should go or we’ll be stuck in traffic again.” He quickly moved off the bed, his jaw clenched, pulse point in his neck fluttering away. 

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents. Hiding his very large boner perfectly from his best friend was one of them.

___________

Wang Yixiang—resident ‘bad boy’ of the town, prominent motorcyclist, occasional tattoo artist and so much more. He was the kind of guy who could command the attention of a room without breathing a single word, splitting the ocean of a crowd in half wherever he walked in.

Euijoo knew him to be a good person; they had made quick friends after a week of being in the same basketball team. Sure, Yixiang teased the hell out of him, always with that crooked grin and sharp tongue, but there was always something warm beneath it all—a brother he could trust. 

And even when this entire situation with you and him arose, Euijoo never felt any animosity towards him. Was it because he knew deep underneath that Yixiang’s type wasn't you? Perhaps. But he was also too good of a friend to feel anything like that.

However, as he stood in the crowded room now, party lights flashing in bursts of violet, blue and gold across faces known and unknown, Euijoo couldn’t help the slow, ugly coil tightening in his chest.

Jealousy. 

What a foolish emotion that mortals had.

It sat there, heavy and unrelenting, tightening with every second he spent watching you. You stood near the edge of the living room, just far enough from the chaos to not be swallowed by it completely.

The party itself felt alive in a way that was almost overwhelming—music blasting loud enough to blur thought, bass vibrating through the floor and up his spine. The walls pulsed with shifting lights, casting everyone in flashes of color that made moments feel fragmented, like scenes spliced together too quickly. Someone had opened the windows, but the air was still thick—warm with bodies, laughter, the faint sting of alcohol, and the lingering sweetness of someone’s perfume.

And Euijoo could still pick you out from the chaos effortlessly. And you looked—

He swallowed.

He shouldn't have recommended that dress, if he knew it would make him want to faint and die every time he caught sight of your thighs.The soft fabric of your dress caught the light every time you moved, your hair falling just right over your shoulders. 

You laughed at something your friend said, tilting your head slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners—but even that laugh felt distracted, like it didn’t fully belong to the moment. Your fingers traced the rim of your cup absentmindedly, your weight shifting from one foot to the other, like you were waiting for something. 

Or someone.

Euijoo leaned back against the wall, a red cup of god knows what held up absentmindedly. He hadn't taken a sip in fifteen minutes now, choosing to alternate his gaze from you to the man you were looking at.

Yixiang stood across the corner of the room, leaning against the wall like he owned the entire world. 

Someone was saying something animatedly to him, hands moving fast, but Yixiang only half-listened, head tipped, one foot braced on the wall, gaze distant. He looked effortlessly put together—leather jacket on a tanktop, hands decorated with rings galore, a lazy kind of confidence that made people orbit him without trying.

Someone said something that made the group laugh, and Yixiang’s lips curved, that small, knowing smirk that made people lean in closer. Euijoo saw it happen in real time—the way your attention slipped mid-conversation, drawn like gravity across the room. It was subtle, anyone else might have missed it. But he never missed anything about you.

Euijoo exhaled sharply through his nose, looking at the way your shoulders eased, the way your lips parted just slightly, the way something warm and hopeful flickered through your eyes. His chest tightened painfully.

Euijoo tipped his head back, glancing at the ceiling before closing his eyes, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue. His mind ran back to the way you had rambled about your plan to confess to Yixiang.

“I made this.” You said, a little breathless, like you were both proud and nervous at the same time, “I’m gonna give it to him and the party and then tell him.”

Euijoo stared at the bracelet—handmade, thread woven carefully, colours chosen just perfect, small details that made it feel you. Soft and earnest in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

“He mentioned once,” You continued quickly, like you needed to justify it, “that he likes this kind of stuff. Not, like, in a serious way, just—he said it offhand, but I remembered and I thought—” You stopped yourself, laughing a little, embarrassed, “I don’t know. Is it stupid?”

You sat cross-legged on the bed, sunlight spilling in through the window. It caught in your hair, outlining you like painters outlined their muses in loving, golden light.

“He’d love it.” Euijoo finally said, heart going to his stomach at your sweet smile, “I’m sure he would.”

There had been a moment, small and fragile, where Euijoo could have said something, anything to stop you. But he just nodded away and ruffled your hair.

The memory faded slower than he wanted it to, bleeding back into the present. Euijoo opened his eyes again, the noise of the party crashing back in all at once—music, laughter, voices, light. His gaze found you again.

You were saying something now, animated, your hands moving as you talked, and your friend laughed again. Your attention flickered, split between the conversation and the figure across the room, waiting for the right moment.

Euijoo’s hands curled into loose fists at his sides. He could walk over, say something, distract you, stop this before it happened, maybe threaten arson. But he didn’t move, staying right where he was, swallowing the jealousy burning like hellfire in his throat. He merely watched as you fiddled with the bracelet in your hand, waiting for the remainder of the crowd around Yixiang to disperse.

The crowd didn’t leave all at once. It thinned slowly, like a tide pulling back—one person dragged away by a friend, another distracted by a call, a couple disappearing toward the balcony. The laughter around him dulled, the tight circle loosening until it finally broke apart.

And then he was alone. Well, as alone as someone like Wang Yixiang could be at his own party.

Jackpot!

He still leaned against the wall, a red cup in his hand, head tipped slightly as he looked down at it like he had forgotten it was there. The lights flickered over him in uneven colors, catching on the metal of his rings, tracing the line of his jaw, dipping into the hollow of his collarbone where his tank top hung loose.

For a second, you just stood there watching—entranced by his beauty. Your heart thudded so loudly it almost drowned out the music, your grip tightening around the bracelet in your hand. You could feel the threads press into your palm, grounding and terrifying all at once.

This was it—your moment to be the Echo to his Narcissus. Before you could think too hard, before doubt could creep in and ruin everything—you moved. One step, then another; you weaved through the remaining people, barely registering the way shoulders brushed yours. Because all you could see was him.

And then you were there.

Oh fucking lord here you were.

Close enough to notice the faint scent of something clean and sharp, close enough to see the small details—the faint smudge of ink near his wrist, the way his lashes cast shadows when he blinked. Even the lord couldn't save you now. You adjusted your hair and moved.

“Hey.” You said, voice coming out softer (and shakier) than you intended. Yixiang looked up. For a split second, his expression was unreadable—like he was pulling himself out of wherever his thoughts had been. And then recognition settled in, easy and familiar.

“Oh,” He said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “Hi there.” God he sounded so fucking hot, that effortless shift in his attention once it fully settled on you, “You’re here.”

You huffed out a small, nervous laugh. “Should I not be?”

“Mmhh, Euijoo usually tells me when he brings you along, so I’m just surprised.” He tilted his head, “Nice dress, you look cute.” Your cheeks warmed.

Godpleasefuckingsaveme.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—your posture, your voice, the way your fingers tightened around the bracelet.

“You too.” You managed, "It's a uhh…a good party.” Who the actual fuck even says that?

“Yeah?” He glanced around briefly, like he was seeing it for the first time. “Bit loud, though.”

“A bit,” You agreed, smiling. There was a beat, not too awkward. You were used to such silences between you and him. 

Yixiang shifted, pushing himself off the wall fully this time. “You want something to drink?” He asked, lifting his cup slightly before glancing at it and making a face. “Actually—don’t take this. I have no idea what this is.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in your chest. “That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”

“C’mon,” He said, nodding his head toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you something that won’t kill you.”

You hesitated for half a second (could he get his fine ass in your life) and then nodded.

You followed him through the crowd, the space parting for him without effort. It was quieter in the kitchen, the music more muffled, replaced by the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clatter of someone passing through.

Yixiang moved easily, grabbing a bottle from the counter, reaching for a clean cup. “What do you want?” He asked, glancing back at you.

“Um—anything’s fine.”

“Dangerous answer, sweetheart.” He muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he poured something anyway, sliding the cup toward you.

“Thanks.” You wrapped your fingers around it, but didn’t drink, mind lingering on the way his veins flexed as he closed the bottle.

Your attention wavered to the bracelet in your other hand. You tried to keep it casual, resting it loosely against your side, but you could feel it like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Say it.

Not yet.

Say it now!

Wait.

Yixiang leaned back against the counter this time, mirroring how he had stood earlier, one hand resting beside him. “You good?” He asked, eyes flicking briefly to your face. “You look like you’re thinking really hard about something.”

“Is it that obvious?” You let out a small breath, laughing nervously. 

“Little bit.” He said and your heart pounded.

Just do it!

“Actually,” you started, your voice catching before you steadied it, “I…..I made something.” His gaze dropped immediately to your hand.

“The thing you’ve been holding onto like your life depends on it?” Yixiang asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You groaned softly. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, “Let me see?” Your fingers tightened for just a second before you stepped forward (an unnecessary step) and held it out to him.

Yixiang took it carefully, more careful than you expected, his rings cool against your skin as his fingers brushed yours, your brain almost stopped.

“You made this?” he asked, the teasing edge in his expression softened, something more thoughtful settling in its place as he turned the bracelet slightly between his fingers, tracing the threads, the details.

“Yeah,” you said, suddenly very aware of the distance between you. “I—um—I remembered you said you liked stuff like that, so I thought—”

“It’s nice,” he cut in gently.

Your breath hitched. Tension is the enemy of a good kiss.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded once, still looking at it. “It’s…..really nice.” Relief bloomed in your chest, warm and bright and terrifying all at once.

“This is for me?” he asked, glancing back up at you. You nodded, a small pause. “What’s the occasion?”

And there it was. Your moment of salvation.

Your stomach flipped. Your fingers curled slightly around your cup, grounding yourself as you forced the words past the sudden tightness in your throat.

“I just—” you started, then stopped, letting out a breath. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Oookay.” Yixiang drawled, expression not changing, “Go on, I’m listening.” You swallowed.

Now.

“I like you,” You said, the words rushing out before you could stop them. “I have for a while, actually, and I just—I wanted you to know. And I thought maybe—” your voice faltered, “—maybe you’d feel the same. Or…..something like that.”

Euijoo once told you a quote that he had made up on a June evening—‘Silence is the food of love’. You had zero idea what he meant by that but you went along anyway, letting him brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you two ate pizza.

This silence was torturous, long enough for your heartbeat to feel unbearably loud. Yixiang blinked once, then looked down at the bracelet again, turning it slowly between his fingers.

And then he laughed. It would have been better if he laughed loudly in a mocking way as he usually did, throwing his head back and practically bellowing. 

But oh the way he laughed now, so softly and gently, as one does to comfort a child who’s had a nightmare. You felt your heart melt in its cage, he laughed so kindly.

“Hey,” He said, stepping a little closer. His hand came up, resting lightly on your shoulder, warm and steady, and somehow, apologetic.

“You’re really sweet,” he said, voice gentler now. “Like—really. This?” he lifted the bracelet slightly, “This is probably one of the nicest things anyone’s done for me.” Your throat tightened. “But…” he continued, and the word felt inevitable.

“I don’t think I’m your guy.”

The sentence landed softly, spoken like a poem. But god it still landed. You forced yourself to hold his gaze. He didnt even look uncomfortable or weirded out, he just looked so fucking calm. And you were drowning in the ocean.

“I’m just—not really looking for anything like that,” he went on, his thumb brushing lightly over the threads of the bracelet. “And even if I was…” he exhaled quietly, a small, almost self-aware smile tugging at his lips, “you’re not really my type.”

It was the fact that he said it so gently, practically cajoling you. He could have, should have, screamed it at you instead, laughed cruel and high and told you to piss off. But he said it like he was comforting you, letting you down easy and then you felt the ocean rise higher.

“I mean that in the best way,” he added quickly, his hand giving your shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re—good. Like, actually good. You deserve someone who’s gonna… I don’t know, not be me.”

All you wanted was him.

“I-” You started, eyes at the floor, your breaths coming a bit too quick, like you couldn't get enough air.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Should I call Euijoo or—”

“No.” The word came out faster than you intended. You shook your head immediately, stepping back. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, even though it was obvious you weren’t. “I just—need some air.” You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t give him time to say anything else that might make this worse, or kinder, or harder to leave.

You turned and walked out. You made it through the kitchen, past the doorway, back into the chaos of the party. The music slammed into you again, loud and disorienting, lights flashing too bright, people moving too close. It felt suffocating now—every laugh too sharp, every voice too loud.

Your vision blurred at the edges as you pushed through the crowd, murmuring quiet apologies when you bumped into someone, your grip tightening around nothing now—the cup long forgotten somewhere behind you.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t—

By the time you reached the door, your steps had quickened. By the time you stepped outside, you were running. The cool night air hit you like a shock, sharp against your skin, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made everything worse, made it all feel too real.

Your vision blurred completely now, tears spilling over before you could stop them, breath hitching as you stumbled a few steps forward, arms wrapping around yourself like you could hold everything in.

It hurt.

God it fucking hurt.

__________

Euijoo was known among your circle of friends for being highly perceptive. He somehow knew exactly what someone was going through even before that person could get a word out. He didn't need the other person to say a word—he’d just sit there in silence alongside them, tissues and water in hand, until they were ready to talk or cry.

Euijoo didn’t hear what was said—didn’t need to. He saw the way you moved, too fast, too abrupt, your head down and your shoulders tight. And then you were gone out the door before he could even say anything. 

Euijoo straightened instantly, the cup in his hand abandoned on the nearest surface without a second thought. Something sharp surged through him, cutting clean through everything else as he moved 

“Hey—where are you—” His friend Fuma started, but he was already pushing past, eyes fixed on the door you had disappeared through.

“Euijoo!” A hand caught his arm briefly. He turned, just enough to see Yixiang standing there, brows drawn slightly, gaze flicking toward the door and then back to him.

“Are you—” Yixiang began, an uncertain tone to his voice. His gaze darted toward the door, then back to Euijoo like he was trying to piece something together too late. “Just tell her I’m sorry.” 

The words hung there for a second. Euijoo held his gaze for just a moment longer, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then he gave a small nod.

“It’s not your fault, Nicho.” He sighed, “She’s just….” He thought about it for a second and then shook his head, looking up at Yixiang with a faint smile, “I’ll tell her.”

Yixiang nodded, hand slipping away from his arm as he disappeared into the party, and for a fraction of a second, Euijoo stayed there. 

Thinking, pondering, wondering……whatever other synonym for his brain sending him thoughts existed. Beneath that anger and ache and every other fucked up emotion tangled within the crevices of his heart, there lay something else. Something he hated himself for. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

You were hurting.

And entirely his to take care of now.

Euijoo turned without another word, pushing through the door and into the cool night air, his eyes already searching for his car. You probably would have ran all the way home—in heels? Sure an unlikely probability but hey, a broken heart is capable of wonderous things.

Truly wonderous things.

________________

“Love?” Euijoo knocked on the door as softly as he could, knuckles barely making a sound against the wood—like anything louder might shatter whatever fragile state you were in on the other side.

For a moment, there was nothing, neither movement nor sound. Just the quiet hum of the night stretching between him and you. He shifted his weight slightly, jaw tightening, resisting the urge to knock again. His hands curled at his sides instead, forcing himself to be patient.

You’d open it. You always did.

A faint sound finally came from inside—shuffling, uneven footsteps and the soft click of the lock. And then the door creaked open.

Euijoo swore he’d never seen anyone this beautiful before. 

Eyes glassy, our cheeks were flushed a deep, aching red, tear tracks visible under the dim porch light. You'd changed out from your dress, wearing an oversized shirt and shorts now. Your hair—usually so carefully done—had fallen loose and messy, strands sticking to your damp skin, framing your face in a way that stole the breath from his lungs. The Goddess of beauty could have stood in front of him and all he’d see was you.

Every piece of you was laid bare in front of him and something in his mind told him to be proud of this fact. Only he could see you like this. So unperfectly perfect.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Your lips parted like you were about to say something—maybe to explain, maybe to brush it off, maybe to tell him you were fine, but nothing came out.

Instead, your face crumpled and that was enough. Euijoo didn’t wait for any more words. He stepped forward gently, one hand coming up instinctively to cradle the side of your head as he pulled you into him, the other wrapping around your shoulders, steady and firm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmured, voice low. “It’s okay, I’m right here, love.”

His sweet voice was all it took.

The tears came again, stronger this time, your body folding into his as a broken sob left your chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing holding you up. He held you tighter, one hand smoothing over your hair, slow and repetitive, the other pressed securely against your back as he guided you inside without breaking the hold.

“Come on.” He said softly, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. “Let’s just sit down, yeah?”

You nodded weakly, though your grip on him didn’t loosen. Euijoo led you to the couch, movements careful, like you might fall apart if he went too fast. He sat first, gently pulling you down with him, guiding you until you were tucked against his side.

He adjusted so you were comfortable, your head resting naturally against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you properly. Your breaths came uneven, breaking apart into soft, shaky sobs that you tried to stifle but couldn’t quite manage. Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding on like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

Euijoo didn’t say anything. He just stayed, one hand moving slowly through your hair, untangling gentle knots, tucking strands away from your face. The other rubbed small, steady circles into your arm with a quiet rhythm.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Euijoo murmured, tilting his head slightly toward yours.

“For not listening to you.” You said, barely lifting your head, “You know….when you said I’m not his type and he’d probably just—”

“Hey, no.” Euijoo said, arm tightening around you like he was physically stopping the thought from going any further. “Don’t do that.” You let out a weak, shaky breath, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“But you were right,” you whispered, voice small, almost embarrassed. “You told me and I still—I still went and—”

“And what?” He cut in softly. There was that familiar soft scolding tone to his voice, “You liked someone,” he continued, a little quieter now. “And you told them. That’s not something you apologize for, love.”

“It feels stupid,” you admitted, your voice cracking again. “I made that bracelet and everything and I just—I really thought—” Your words dissolved into another broken breath. Euijoo’s hand slowed in your hair, his fingers smoothing gently over the strands before resting briefly at the back of your head. 

“It’s not stupid, love.” Euijoo said, after a brief moment of calming silence, “It’s just….life.” You laughed against his shoulder but he continued, “That doesn’t make it stupid,” he said. “It just means he didn’t feel the same.”

“That’s worse.” You mumbled and a quiet exhale left him.

Well wouldn't he know?

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of is.”

“I just—” you swallowed, your voice smaller now, worn out from crying, “I really liked him, Euijoo.”

“I know,” he murmured, oh if only you knew.

“I thought……maybe if I did it right—if I was…” you hesitated, searching for the word, “enough—”

“Hey.”

This time it wasn’t just his voice. His hand shifted from your hair to gently cup the side of your face, guiding you to look up at him. Your eyes met his and you almost gasped at how gentle they were.

“Don’t finish that sentence like that,” he said quietly. There was something different in his expression now, something a little more serious, “You being ‘enough’ has nothing to do with whether he likes you or not.”

Your brows pulled together slightly, like you didn’t quite believe him. Euijoo’s thumb brushed lightly under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love.” he continued. “You didn’t mess it up. You didn’t say it weird or give the wrong thing or pick the wrong moment.” A small pause. “He just wasn’t the right person to hear it.”

The words settled between you, softly heavy. Your gaze stayed on his for a moment longer than before, like you were trying to find something in them—something steady enough to latch onto and pull yourself up.

“I just…” you exhaled shakily, “I really thought tonight would be different.” Euijoo didn’t interrupt, just watching you, “I even thought…” you let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, dropping your gaze again, “I thought maybe I’d have my second kiss tonight.”

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.

Stopping the blood rushing to his dick at those words was not one of them.

“Your second kiss?” He said, voice somehow very steady. 

“Yeah.” You laughed again, wiping your tears and sniffling, “You were my first, remember?”

Oh.

Right.

Your….first…kiss….

Euijoo went very still, chest tightening at the memory, sweet as honey straight from the comb. He swallowed, staring, just staring at you. You were talking about something else now with shy laughs and not one word was going through his head. All he could see was the fact that he was his sweet girl’s first kiss. 

“I don’t know....” You sighed, not noticing the storm brewing in his gaze, too busy fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe kissing him wouldn't have felt that good.” You shook your head faintly, “You know, like how it felt with you.”

God should have struck Byun Euijoo and his dick-controlled mind down right there and then.

Well at least before he said his next words.

“Would you like to feel like that again?” 

Great job, you horny idiot.

“Mmh?” You said, looking up at him with those widened eyes, “Did you say something Ju?”

God this girl is testing me. Euijoo's jaw clenched, his mind reeling from the image of your lips on anyone else. No, you were his to cherish, to claim in ways that would erase any doubt. He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a low, husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I asked—” He leaned closer, half lidded eyes flickering down to your lips and staying there, “—if you’d like to feel like that again, love?”

They say seduction is a delicate art—fragile like a domino, one wrong move and poof! Everything is gone. However, when one’s mind is high under the influence of stupid, stupid human emotions, the domino will stay upright no matter what western wind hits it.

“Only if you want to, love.” Euijoo said, tilting his head with a soft smile, “I just want to make you feel better, you know that right?”

Your eyes widened, cheeks flushing hot as his words sank in. Hesitation flickered through you—nerves twisting in your stomach at the implication—but the trust you'd placed in him, the way he'd always made you feel safe, pulled you under. 

Euijoo was your best friend, of course he’d only want the best for you right? His soft gaze was locked onto you, a gentle anchor in the storm. 

“Yeah….” You nodded slowly, barely a whisper escaping, “Yeah I think I’d like that, Ju.”

Euijoo’s warm smile eased the tension in your chest as he brought a hand up to cup your cheek, running a thumb over the skin. You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch without protest.

“Just…..tell me if you want to stop.” 

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Yeah, like he was ever going to stop.

It was soft at first, a tender kiss meant to soothe. You hesitated, your shyness making your cheeks flush, but the fucked up emotions bubbling inside you craved the comfort. And something else inside you was starved of this kind of touch. You parted your lips, letting him deepen the kiss, unaware of the drastic effect it was having on your best friend. His mouth moved against yours with affectionate slowness, his tongue slipping in to taste you, coaxing a quiet sigh from your throat.

“Ju….” You said, melting into the kiss, one hand resting on his chest while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Euijoo said, pulling back just enough, his eyes dark, “Do you want to stop, love?” 

In hindsight, you probably should have stopped. You had maybe two cups of shitty alcohol in you and he was your best friend. But for some stupid reason he tasted soooo good. And no one gives up nectar do they?

“Want more.” You said, breathing a bit heavy, eyes flickering down to his plump lips, “Please?”

Byun Euijoo was a dead man as soon as those syllables spilled from your mouth.

“More?” He said, his hand cupping the back of your neck, lips curving into a faint smile. His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush, his erection already hardening against your thigh—a thick, insistent bulge that made you gasp. 

“More what, my love?”

My love.

In that moment, Euijoo looked simply divine—the golden light of the lamplight illuminating his soft features, those plush cheeks and those eyes that seemed like deep pools of honey. He always called you ‘love’. He’d never called you his love before though. And some part of you really really liked it.

“Euijoo….” You sighed, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks and other parts of your body, “I want you to kiss me.” His eyes darkened at your response, a small smirk playing on his lips. You giggled, feeling every emotion in the world get to your brain all at once, “I want you to kiss me aaalll over.”  

Now who was Euijoo to deny you? A best friend that behaved like a best friend? Please. 

“As you wish, my love.” 

In an instant, he closed the distance, his large hand cupping the back of your neck as he drew you in. His lips crashed against yours, hungry, tongue slipping past to taste you properly. You melted into the kiss, your frame pressing against his solid chest.

The kiss grew hungrier as you melted into it, your hands clutching at his shirt. Euijoo's fingers threaded through your hair, holding you steady as your tongues danced. He nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a small gasp from you, and you felt the tension in your body start to uncoil. Making out with him felt so intimate and unhurried, pushing everything else—Yixiang, false personas, bracelets—to the edges of your mind and replacing it with the heat building between you.

Euijoo’s hands moved to grip your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as sat you down on his lap. It was nothing much—you had sat there multiple times in the past. But you were just friends back then and now you were…..something else. 

"E-Euijoo..." You breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair as he started to trail kisses along your jawline. His teeth nipped at your earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Mmhh, you’re such a pretty girl.” Euijoo murmured against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. “So fucking beautiful.”

He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he was. The friction of his erection rubbing against your clothed core had you squirming and mewling, desperate for more.

“Ju I—”

“Let me take care of you, love.” Euijoo pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, “I’ll make it all go away for you.” HIs voice was so very low, like a soft desperate prayer, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. Innocence clung to you like a veil—you'd never gone this far, never let anyone touch you like this. The thought of it scared you, made your stomach twist with nerves. But it was Euijoo. And Euijoo would never want to hurt you right?

“Are you sure?” You said, your voice trembling, “What if I don’t…you know—” You swallowed, god the thought of your first time being unsexy as fuck terrified you, “do it right?”

But Euijoo, sweet sweet Euijoo only smiled gently, cupping your face in his hands. His hands were the most familiar thing in the world, and right now, they felt like home.

“There is no right way, baby.” He said, pressing a kiss to your nose, “I’ll go slow alright? Just relax for me, hm?” His words wrapped around you like a blanket, reassuring and warm, easing the fear knotting in your chest.

His hand slid down your side, fingers splaying over your hip, thumb brushing the edge of your shirt. You whimpered, the sound fueling his desire, and he guided you backward toward the couch, laying you down with careful strength.

You looked like the most ethereal thing in the world—the kind of thing poets would write about when they tried to describe beautiful things. The kind of thing the gods would fight over—with your hair splayed all over, chest rising up and down and your flushed cheeks. Pretty, pretty girl.

Euijoo’s hands roamed your body over your clothes at first, tracing your curves until you arched into him. He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly on your skin as he tugged your shirt up and off, exposing your bra. You shivered, feeling exposed yet safe under his gaze.

“Euijoo…” you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair.

He laid you down gently on the couch, his kisses trailing lower, over your stomach, fingers hooking into your shorts and tugging them down along with your panties.  Naked now, vulnerable, you tried to close your thighs, but he nudged them apart with his knee, settling between.

Euijoo hovered over you, his weight a comforting cage as he kissed you again, slower now. His tongue explored your mouth, intoxicating strokes that left you breathless, while his hand ventured to your skin, palm warm against you. You arched into his touch, innocence cracking under the wave of need he ignited.

“So fucking beautiful baby.” He whispered, voice rough. You squirmed beneath him, heat pooling between your legs as he lavished attention on your body, kissing your thigh softly. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked at your bare pussy, already glistening from the make-out session.

God she’s so adorable.

Euijoo leaned down, mouth latching onto one peak, sucking firmly while his thick fingers teased the other, pinching just enough to draw a gasp from you. The size of his hand dwarfed your chest, making every caress feel overwhelmingly possessive. 

You knew what he was going to do—stick those thick, girthy fingers into your wet folds and make you see heaven. You’d read about it so many times, letting your little fingers wander and leave you on the edge of an orgasm but never quite hit that sweet spot. Would your best friend really be able to reach it?

“Love.” Euijoo said, calling your gaze to his, “Just breathe for me, alright? I’ll go slow, I promise.” How sweet he sounded, even as his index finger nudged dangerously high up your inner thigh. The size of his hands made your breath hitch; you were so very untouched and you weren’t sure if they were even going to fit. 

But then he was pushing one finger inside and your back was already arching, your head pressing deeper back into the cushion as your mouth hung open in an ‘o’. The stretch burned slightly as your walls gripped him tight tight tight.

“Fuck you’re tight.” Euijoo swore under his breath, tilting his head at you, eyes full of (faux) sympathy, “You want me to continue baby?” He was fighting a battle with himself not to moan at your already fucked out face, hair sprawled all over, those eyes looking up at him so very drunkenly. 

“Hmmm…” You hummed, “Feel so good Ju….want more, please?” 

Oh you were going to be the death of him.

“Of course, my love.” His touch was electric, making a string of whimpers seep out of your mouth. His eyes went to where he had breached you and Euijoo almost moaned. You were taking his finger so well, he couldn't help but imagine you taking his cock.

You moaned loud, the discomfort fading into bliss, and he added a second finger, scissoring to stretch you wider. The fullness was intense, the girth filling you in a way that bordered on too much, but the pleasure overrode it. 

“Oh oh fuck!” You screamed as he curled his fingers to hit a particular spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, “Euijoo right there—oh goddd….”

So that was where your clit was. And how easily Euijoo found it, as if he’d been training for this moment his entire life. How funny it was that your best friend knew you so very well.

“Right there?” Euijoo cooed, now rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb, his ego was filled to the brim that he’d found her so quick, “You like that, my love?” He thrust them deeper, thumb on your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you easily—body shaking, pussy clenching around his fingers as you cried out his name.

That precipice of pleasure you’d always stood at but never crossed was gone now, and you were floating in the ocean, the waves cradling you to their warmth. You cried out his name like a ballad, body trembling as he coaxed you through it, whispering how good you were for him. 

 As you came down, panting, he withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The sight made your core clench again, a fresh wave of heat flooding you. His tongue swirled round his finger like he was licking up nectar. Euijoo watched you with affectionate eyes, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

“See how sweet you are?” He murmured, one hand gripping your thigh open, “I’m just going to do something, and I promise it’ll feel good, okay?” 

You merely nodded, desperate now to feel that wave of pleasure in your chest again. Whatever Euijoo did would feel like heaven and you were up for it wholeheartedly.

Euijoo's gaze locked onto yours, dark with desire, as he slid down your body slowly. His hands parted your thighs wider, making you shiver in anticipation. He settled between your legs like he belonged, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending sparks racing up your spine.

Without a word, Euijoo dipped his head and pressed his mouth to your pussy, his tongue flicking out to trace a long, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. The warmth of his tongue contrasted with the lingering ache from your recent orgasm, reigniting the fire in your core. You gasped, hips bucking instinctively toward him, but he held you steady with firm hands on your inner thighs.

"Stay still, love," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice humming through you. 

Then he dove in fully, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking gently at first, drawing it between his teeth with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His tongue swirled in tight, insistent circles, lapping at the swollen nub with expert precision, as if mapping every nerve ending.

Pleasure built rapidly, a coiling tension in your belly that had you threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Euijoo groaned in response, the sound muffled as he buried his face deeper, his nose brushing your mound while his tongue delved lower. You tasted like no heaven could ever compare. 

He licked broad stripes along your slit, gathering your arousal on his tongue before plunging it inside you, fucking you with shallow thrusts that mimicked what he needed to do with his currently painfully hard cock. Your breaths came in ragged pants, each lap and suck sending jolts of ecstasy radiating outward. 

"Euijoo... oh! Just like that—oh fuck Ju!" you whimpered, your body arching off the couch. He hummed approval, the vibration intensifying everything, and alternated between sucking your clit hard and flattening his tongue to rub firm, relentless pressure over it.

He was relentless, affectionate in his hunger, one hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple while the other kept your thigh pinned. Your pussy throbbed under his assault, walls fluttering as another climax approached, faster and fiercer than the last. 

Euijoo sensed it, redoubling his efforts—tongue flicking rapidly, lips tugging, until you shattered again, crying out as waves of bliss crashed through you, your release coating his chin.

He didn't stop, gentling his touches to guide you through the aftershocks, kissing your inner thighs softly before looking up at you with a satisfied, glistening smile. 

“Taste so perfect, my love.” He said, voice husky, crawling back up to claim your lips in a deep, sharing kiss, “So good for me…” 

“Ju…” You kissed him back, mind already hazy, “Euijoo…..want moreee..” You were whining away your words, not even sure if they were coherent enough. Euijoo only chuckled.

“More?” He said, eyes meeting yours with a spark of deeper hunger, “Baby, aren’t you tired?” The afterglow of your orgasms lingered, but the air between you crackled with unspoken want.

“Mmmhh…” You moaned, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes that made his dick twitch, “—promised you’d make me feel good….” You were blabbering yet again, trying and failing to raise your hips to meet his pelvis, “want your cock Ju please please pleeaseeee…”

It was in that moment that Byun Euijoo truly realised the beauty of life. The day had started off with him waking up to a raging boner because of a wet dream with you and now the sun was about to set with his cock nestled deep in your warm walls. Life was amazing.

“Oh?” Euijoo said, his voice roughened by desire, “What was that sweetheart?” 

“Want your cock…” You whined again, bold hands coming up to tug at his hair. You pulled him down for a sloppy kiss and Euijoo swore he could have busted a nut right there and then, “Please Ju?” 

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, as he scooped you up effortlessly, your body limp against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, heart racing at the intimacy of being carried like this.

He carried you up the stairs to the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him as he laid you down on the soft sheets. The sheets you two had once cuddled in, talked each other’s ears off and cried your hearts out. The very bedroom Byun Euijoo would be making use of the one talent he commanded well. What is it, you may ask? Taking the virginity of his best friend, of course. 

You bit your lip, hesitation flooding back as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. His pants followed, and when he pushed down his boxers, your eyes widened at the sight of his cock—thick and long, veins pulsing along its length, the head already leaking pre-cum. 

The size of it dwarfed anything you'd imagined, making your untouched pussy clench in a mix of fear and curiosity. Thought of him inside you sent a cold shiver down your spine. And heat to your legs but never mind that. 

“Ju…” You murmured, voice trembling as you sat up slightly, pulling the sheet over yourself, “I don’t know if I can…”

Euijoo knelt on the bed, his hands gentle as he pulled the sheet away, exposing you again. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing over your features, making you look even more beautiful. 

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly, cupping your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes locking onto yours with that loving reassurance, “You trust me right? I’ll make it good for you baby, I swear.” His words melted your resistance, “But if you want to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop, hm?”

You nodded, lying back as he positioned himself between your legs, his broad frame hovering over you. He kissed you deeply, tongue stroking yours to distract and soothe, while one hand guided his cock to your entrance. 

In all honesty you couldn't believe this was happening. You'd always imagined your first time, chocolates, candles and roses and a man with a brow piercing. You’d imagined softness, hands perfectly molded and the feeling of ultimate pleasure.

Euijoo’s hand was warmly familiar in yours and the scent of him was comforting, chocolates and roses and soft laughter that never failed to steady the ground beneath your feet. You let yourself sink into the mattress, going almost dumb and pliant for him. My my, did he look weirdly gorgeous.

Euijoo gripped the base of his cock, guiding the thick head to your entrance, rubbing it slowly along your folds to coat himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you gasp, a fresh spark of arousal igniting low in your belly.

“Breathe for me, my love.” Euijoo whispered in your ear, kissing just beneath it, one of his hands entwined in yours and the other holding your hip.

“Euijoo….” 

And then you could feel him everywhere. 

From between your legs to your chest to your throat, everything was just Euijoo Euijoo Euijoo. Sweet Euijoo, pretty Euijoo, your Euijoo. 

“Baby?” Euijoo panted, ever so worried about you even when his dick was being squeezed for all it was worth by your walls, “Baby, you with me?” His hand intertwined with yours, squeezed gently as he paused, not even halfway in yet. You were just too damn tight. 

“Ju ohhhh…” You groaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head, “feel so—fuckkkk—feel so full Ju…”

And he wasn't even halfway in. 

Euijoo's dick twitched again as he chuckled and brought his hand up to cradle your cheek. “I know, my love I know. I’m going to push in, ok?”

The stretch burned as he pushed, his thickness forcing your walls to yield. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, the pain sharp and unfamiliar. “It hurts..” you whimpered, tears pricking your pretty eyes, which only drove Euijoo more insane. He paused, letting you adjust, his breath warm against your lips.

"That's it, you're doing so well," he praised, voice low and soothing. He kissed you softly, tongue slipping in to distract as he sank deeper, filling you halfway before stopping again. Your body tensed, god you were so fucking full, but the ache blended with a deep, throbbing pleasure that made your toes curl.

“Euijoo…..oh…” You moaned sweetly against his lips.

“ know, shh…” he breathed against your lips, freezing until you adjusted. “Breathe with me. You're so tight, taking me like this—fuck, you're perfect.” 

Inch by breathtaking inch, he sank deeper, his cock filling you completely, the size making you feel impossibly stretched. He bottomed out with a groan, hips flush against yours, and held still, letting you acclimate to the fullness.

“Are you alright, my love?” Euijoo said, eyes tracing over you, “Open your eyes baby, let me see those pretty eyes, thaaat’s a good girl.”

“So good Ju….” You moaned, the air whooshing out your lungs at the sight of him, strands of hair falling onto his forehead, slightly hiding his eyes, plush pink kissable lips, “Move…please.”

The pain ebbed into a dull ache, replaced by a growing warmth as he began to move—shallow thrusts at 

first, pulling out just enough to slide back in. You moaned softly, the sound escaping unbidden, your body betraying your initial hesitation.

"Feels good?" he asked, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. You bit your lip, nodding, shifting your hips experimentally.

His pace was unhurried, each thrust long and measured, draaagging his cock along your inner walls to hit sensitive spots that made constellations flicker in your vision. The friction built gradually, your arousal easing the way, turning the stretch into pure bliss.

Euijoo's hand released yours to brace on the mattress beside your head, his other sliding under your thigh to hook your leg higher on his waist. This angle let him grind deeper, the head of his cock nudging your cervix with each full stroke, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You moaned, wrapping your arms around Euijoo’s neck, pulling him closer as your bodies moved in sync like voices harmonizing. 

He kissed your neck, sucking lightly at the skin while his hips rolled steadily, fucking you with a rhythm that was both tender and insistent. Sweat beaded on his skin, his lean muscles flexing with every controlled push, the dim light casting shadows that highlighted the intimacy of it all. Your pussy fluttered around him, growing wetter, the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room alongside your shared breaths.

Your whines grew louder, pornographic moans spilling out as you clutched at him, hips starting to rock in rhythm. The corruption of your innocence fueled his desire—he watched your face contort in bliss, his shy girl giving way to raw need. It snapped something in him; his eyes darkened, grip tightening on your hips as he went feral.

“Fuck baby—ah hahh—sound so pretty for me—shit…” He growled, thrusting harder now, the bed creaking under the force. 

His cock pounded into you, relentless and deep, the size making every plunge overwhelming. You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist, the pain fully forgotten in the haze of ecstasy. Euijoo buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin before biting down—sharp nips that marked you as his, followed by his tongue licking the spots soothingly. 

“Mine.” He murmured between licks, sucking at your pulse point while his hips snapped forward, “Mine all mine, aren’t you pretty girl?” The loving bites sent jolts straight to your core, heightening the build-up, “Say it for me, my love.”

“Y-Yours…..” You managed to stutter out, almost screaming when his hand slipped between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb, “Yours Euijoo! God, only yours—oh fuck fuck!”

The first orgasm hit you suddenly, your pussy clamping down on his thick length as waves crashed through you. “Euijoo!” you sobbed, body arching off the bed. He didn't slow, fucking you through it, his groans vibrating against your neck.

“One more, my love.” he demanded, voice husky with control, “You can do it, I know you can.” 

His thrusts turned punishing, cock stretching you wide with each brutal drive. He bit your neck again, harder this time, tongue lapping at the sting as his hand pinned your thigh open wider. The coil in your belly tightened, pleasure mounting with each deep plunge.

"Euijoo... closer," you gasped, and he obliged, draping his body over yours fully, his chest pressing to your breasts as he thrust harder but still languidly, drawing out every inch. 

Your orgasm hit like a slow wave this time, crashing over you in shuddering pulses, your pussy milking his cock as you cried out, nails raking down his back. Cum leaked from where you joined, your moans turning to breathless pleas.

Euijoo followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his bites softening to tender licks as he rode out his release. He rocked through it, prolonging both your releases, before collapsing gently beside you, both panting in the afterglow. He pulled you into his arms, his hand smoothing over the back of your head, cock still twitching inside as he kissed your marked neck.

“You did so well.” He shepherd, kissing the crown of your head, holding you close in the quiet of the room, “Perfect, my love.” 

 His heart pounded against your ear, the steady rhythm gradually slowing as exhaustion seeped into your bones. Euijoo eventually pulled out as slowly as he could, peppering your face with soft kisses as he did, fingers combing through your hair in soothing strokes.

“Hmm Euijoo…” You hummed sleepily, opening your eyes only a slight crack.

“Yes, love?” 

“I think….” You giggled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, “I don't like Yixiang any more.”

“Oh?” Euijoo fought his smile back, tucking your head under his chin as he rolled onto his side, keeping you firmly tucked against his chest, “Then who do you like baby?” 

Your breathing evened out, growing slow and steady. Euijoo watched as your lashes fluttered closed, a look of pure adoration on his face. 

“I think I like you…” You mumbled, “I think I really really like you.” You giggled drunkenly again, “Is that stupid Ju?” 

For a moment, Euijoo didn’t breathe. The words were quiet, slurred with sleep, barely more than a murmur but they settled into him like something sacred, like something that had been waiting patiently for a place to land.

I think I really, really like you

His chest tightened first, sharp, almost startling  before it gave way to something warmer. It spread slowly, blooming beneath his ribs, petal by petal, until it filled him completely. Achingly, impossibly full.

He looked down at you, half-curled against him, your face relaxed in sleep, lashes resting gently against your cheeks. You had no idea what you’d just done to him, no idea how those few drowsy words had unraveled something deep inside his chest.

“No my love, it’s not stupid.” He hummed, thumb brushing absent circles against your arm as if to pull himself to earth, “It’s not stupid at all.”  Euijoo swallowed, his hold on you tightening instinctively, like some small, instinctive part of him was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t, “I really really like you too.” 

“Mmmh good.” You mumbled before giving in to your sleep, your breathing becoming more shallow as you drifted off to sleep. 

“You have no idea, do you?” Euijoo murmured under his breath, voice so soft it barely existed. His lips pressed gently to your hair again, lingering this time.

 "I love you," he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. "So fucking much." Carefully, like you were something fragile, he pulled you closer and for once, he let himself feel it fully. As the last rays of sun faded from the sky, Euijoo followed you into a peaceful slumber.

Byun Euijoo was a man of many talents.

Getting his girl was now officially one of them.

fin. 

A/N: gang im not lying i legit came writing this fic UGH BYUN EUIJOO MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN if yall know anything about me you guys know i am no 1 cheater BUT I HAVE LEGIT NEVER CHEATED ON THIS MAN WITH ANYBODY ELSE IN &TEAM like that's the power he holds over me. anyways im gonna go stare at his concept photos now bye

divider by @pepsipoet

[starryjake]

warnings: smut MDNI, sick euijoo, somnophilia, dry humping, handjob, cumming in pants, cum eating, blowjob, multiple orgasms.

poor euijoo, you thought to yourself, peeking your head into your shared bedroom where he was deeply asleep in bed.

for the past couple of days, he’d been fighting some virus going around that’d left him coughing, sniffly, with headaches, and utterly exhausted.

you’d done what you could to take care of him—made him tea and soup, pressed a cold compress to his overheated face, restocked his tissue supply when he eventually ran out. you’d been a doting nurse, much like he was for you whenever you were sick.

there was only so much you could do, though. the thing he needed the most was rest, so you quietly shut the door and left him to it.

-

“y/n?”

you were in the kitchen, just about to get some water boiling for tea when you heard your name being called from the bedroom. your heart melted at the sound, the broken raspiness of your sick boyfriend’s voice.

you darted over to the bedroom, opening the door and walking in.

“hey, baby,” you cooed, your voice soft and quiet. “what can i get you?”

“oh, nothing,” he said, sitting up as much as he could in bed. his cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled. “i just wanted to make sure you were home.”

“i’m here,” you assured, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “how are you feeling?”

“sleepy.”

he blew out a puff of hair, trying to get the strands of hair out of his face. you helped him, pushing your fingers into his hair and getting it off his forehead.

“oh, euijoo,” you said. “you’re warm.”

he pushed his forehead into your palm, craving the coolness of your hand.

“can i get you some water?” you asked. “or an ice pack? medicine?”

“no, no,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “can you just stay?”

your heart melted.

“of course,” you said, crawling into bed beside him.

although he was the one who was sick, he still preferred being the big spoon and having you to hold. you sighed contentedly as he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he was so warm, he practically felt like a furnace, but the heat of him put you right to sleep.

-

when you woke up, euijoo was rock hard and softly rutting his hips against you from behind. your eyes shot open, and you craned your neck to face him. but much to your dismay, he was still asleep.

his cheeks were even redder than before, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he pushed his erection against your ass. he was breathing heavily, occasionally letting out a mumble of words you couldn’t understand.

“euijoo,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair to get it off of his face. “wake up, baby.”

his eyes blinked open, the movements of his hips halting.

“what—”

“you were having a dream,” you told him. “do you feel okay?”

euijoo glance down at the where the front of his body met the back of yours, like he only just realized he was hard.

“i’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “i think my fever is up again. my dream was crazy.”

you pouted.

“let me go grab you some more medicine.”

you attempted to escape his grasp, to get out of bed and fetch him the medicine, but he tightened his arms around you.

“no, don’t go,” he pleaded, holding you tightly. “stay here. just need you here, please.”

“baby, i’ll just be gone a second,” you assured him.

he shook his head, burying his face in the back of your neck. you felt him ever-so-slowly begin pumping his hips forward again, hesitantly rutting his erection against you like he had been before.

“don’t leave,” he said, breath warm on the back of your neck.

you relented, relaxing in his sweltering embrace.

“i’m so hard,” he said, pushing against you a little firmer. “is this okay?”

“yeah, but…” you began, turning over so you were facing him instead, “you should relax, joo. just lay down, don’t exert yourself.”

it wasn’t hard to push him on his shoulder and get him lying flat on his back on the bed. he was so sleepy, so weak and pliant right now in his sick state.

“but i wanna…” he sighed, “wanna cum.”

“but you’re sick,” you reminded, sitting up so you were taller than him. “you should just get some rest.”

“please,” he croaked, eyes shiny with need. “it’ll just take a second. i’m so sensitive. just need you to touch it and i’ll cum. please, just—”

you cut him off by wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeing how hard it was and how it twitched under your palm. and he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was sensitive. all it took was your hand palming him and ej was gasping, throwing his head back as his orgasm washed over him.

he was so far gone, so sick and fucked out that he didn’t even care he was making a mess of his boxers. didn’t care that his sticky cum was staining the fabric and smearing on his overheated skin.

“euijoo,” you whispered, in awe of how quick he finished.

he was panting, eyes clenched shut tightly as he bucked his hips up into your hand, riding out his high.

when he was really done, he relaxed into the mattress, catching his breath.

“made such a mess,” you mumbled, peeling his boxers and sweatpants down to reveal the ropes of thick, creamy release.

before either of you realized what you were doing, you were leaning over and lapping at the puddle of cum, tasting the sweet stickiness.

“oh, fuck,” euijoo practically whimpered, watching you clean up his mess.

he was hard again in an instant, what with your mouth being so close to his dick. and when you noticed him getting hard again, you darted the tip of your tongue out and started kitten licking his glistening, red tip.

he moaned, voice raspy and broken, as you swirled your tongue around his slit and wrapped your lips around him, tasting the salt and taste of skin.

euijoo felt lightheaded and dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm, and the way you were going right into it to bring him to his second.

he was too weak to even bring a hand down into your hair like he normally did when you sucked him off, so he kept his hands down uselessly by his sides, curling them into loose fists.

“f-fuck,” he cried out, just barely thrusting his hips up into your face. “i’m already gonna cum again, oh my—”

a wave of heat washed over him and all he could see was white as he came yet again, streams of cum shooting right down your throat. it was so hot it practically burned, but you swallowed every bit of it anyway. even sick, he still tasted nice.

finally, when he was done thrashing and whining through his orgasm, you pulled off of him. he laid there uselessly, tiredly, while you got up to get him a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants.

once he was changed, euijoo just about passed out, and you pressed a cool compress to his forehead to bring down the fever that you think had risen as a result of what the two of you had just done.

-

a/n i think someone requested this but i can’t find it…

[starryjake]

sleepy needy ej who likes rubbing and sucking your nipples before bed as he thrusts between your folds back and forth repeatedly, too tired to put it in but with just enough pressure to rub up against your clit so you both cum and have the best sleep ever <3

warnings: smut MDNI, nipple play, grinding, sleepy euijoo, ej cums on reader.

anon do you realize I’m insane .

this is SO euijoo coded too like he works so hard all, so busy all the time, and so he’s just exhausted when it comes time to sleep, yet he’s horny at the same time :(

you’d ask him if he wants to put it in as he’s just rutting against you, coating his length in your wetness, and he can’t even answer you because his mouth is too busy sucking your nipples. he just shakes his head and makes a little moaning sound, his hair tickling your chest.

you weren’t gonna argue because it felt really good, his heavy length grinding back and forth against your sensitive cunt, his tip grazing your puffy clit with every upward motion.

you knew he was getting close when he started going faster, when his sucking on your nipple got harsher, so he was almost biting it. his hips frantically bucked against you, rubbing his cock through your folds so intensely that a lewd squelching sound filled the room between your combined panting.

ej was so tired he couldn’t even warn you when he came. just gasped and halted, and you were synced up enough that you were cumming at the same time. your eyes rolled back, and your grasped desperately at his hair as he drooled around your nipple, his cum seeping into a puddle on your stomach.

when you were both finished, he’d collapse beside you, insisting that he’d grab you a rag to clean you up in a minute, but he’d just fall asleep lol.