the events that follow after your boyfriend and his best friend kiss during a game of spin the bottle.
pairing: wang nicholas x fem!reader x byun euijoo
warnings: smut MDNI, drinking, threesome, MXM content (don’t read if you don’t like that), masturbation, nichojoo making out, fingering, hickeys, handjobs, blowjobs, nipple play, pussy eating, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, cumming inside (and out?), lmk if i missed anything.
wc: around 5k.
“no. absolutely not,” ej said, grabbing the empty beer bottle from the middle of the circle.
“hey, the spin the bottle gods have spoken,” nicholas responded, raising his hands up in defense. “they want me to kiss your girlfriend.”
you stared down at your lap, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. you’d only been at this party for an hour, and you were already regretting coming.
you’d wanted a nice, quiet evening in with your boyfriend, ej, and typically, he wanted the same. but it was his friend fuma’s birthday, so he had to come to the party, and you went along as well.
how you ended up playing a game of spin the bottle in a circle of only men was beyond you, though. so far, you’d witnessed some of ej’s best friends kiss, which was an interesting sight to the say the least.
but then nicholas spun the bottle, and for the first time that night, it landed on you.
“no one wants you to kiss my girlfriend,” ej argued. “especially not me or her.”
“come on already,” yuma whined. “either kiss or don’t—i’m getting bored.”
nicholas looked over at you. you looked at ej, ej looked back at you, and then you looked back to nicholas.
“oh my god,” ej huffed. “you can kiss her cheek, but that’s the most you’re getting.”
you let out the sigh you’d been holding in, relieved that ej made the decision for you because you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do.
so, nicholas crawled over across the circle to you, tilted your head to the side and planted a warm, soft kiss on your cheek, lingering slightly longer than he should’ve.
ej rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval—not at you, but at his own best friend.
the game carried on, and proved quite entertaining as you got to watch many of ej and your friends share a kiss.
and then it was ej’s turn to spin.
of course, out of all the people it could’ve landed on, it landed on nicholas.
“wow, i’m pretty lucky today,” nicholas said with a glint in his eyes, a smile on his typically serious face. “tell me i get more than just your cheek.”
“you’re such a freak,” ej responded, and then he looked over at you. “it’s not up to me, though. it’s whatever y/n is comfortable with.”
your breath caught in your throat. everyone in the circle was looking at you now. it was all up to you whether or not you were okay with nicholas kissing your boyfriend.
you knew it was just a stupid party game. it wasn’t a big deal, and you knew how ej and nicholas liked to joke around and flirt sometimes. this was nothing. it was just a kiss.
“you can kiss,” you said, leaning back on your palms with a smirk. “just make sure to put on a show.”
“you’re a freak, too,” ej said to you jokingly, before turning back to nicholas.
the circle watched with anticipation as nicholas crawled across the floor yet again, then sank to his knees once he was in front of ej.
you watched carefully as nicholas brought his hands up to cup your boyfriends face, tilting his head up. ej gazed up into nicholas’s eyes, his expression completely serious. in fact, both of them looked far too serious for just a dumb party game.
their faces were getting closer and closer, their lips just an inch away. and then they were pressed together—nicholas cradling ej’s face in his large hands, their lips moving fluidly against each other.
you gulped, feeling your face start to warm. it seemed like they were actually into it, like they’d forgotten where they were and what they were doing, that it was just a game of spin the bottle. they seemed to have forgotten that people were watching them.
they weren’t even kissing anymore, but entirely making out. you swore you even saw a glimpse of one of their tongues for just a second, and it made your breath hitch in your throat.
“jesus, you guys,” yudai spoke up, laughing. “you can quit now.”
nicholas pulled back, lips glistening with your boyfriends saliva. ej stared up at him, a glimmer of something in his eye that you couldn’t make out.
if you weren’t euijoo’s girlfriend, you would’ve thought they were the ones dating. you felt like by just sitting there, you were interrupting something.
the circle fell silent—an awkward silence. nicholas cleared his throat, then shuffled back to his spot in the circle.
“um,” ej spoke, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “i don’t really wanna play anymore.”
you noticed he had his hands awkwardly positioned over his lap, and when he saw you noticed, he pulled his knees into his chest.
“me neither,” nicholas said. “i’ve kissed enough people.”
they met each others eyes from across the circle, then quickly tore their gazes apart.
“let’s go get another drink,” you suggested, trying to intercept and break the tension.
“yes!” ej agreed, hoisting himself up. “that’s a great idea.”
together, you two found your way through other party goers, into the kitchen. ej was quick to pour himself a hefty cup of liquor.
he took a long sip, then placed his cup on the counter and turned to you.
“i’m so sorry,” he said. “i don’t know what happened. i mean—i didn’t think he was gonna kiss me like that, and then it just kept going and we’ve both had too much to drink, and—”
suddenly, ej stopped talking, his gaze falling just past you, and he gulped.
you frowned, turning around to see what it was that had captured his attention. of course, it was nicholas, leaning in the doorway.
“that was hot,” he said, walking over to you two.
“shut up,” ej scolded.
nicholas chuckled, taking a sip from his red cup.
“well, y/n thought it was hot, too,” he said, motioning over to you. your eyes widened. “i saw the way you were watching us.”
ej’s eyebrows furrowed even further together, glancing over at you. both of them, with equally intimidating stares, were facing you, waiting for you to admit it or defend yourself.
what were you supposed to say? would ej get mad if you admitted that you did think it was kind of hot watching him make out with his best friend? would he think you were weird?
“i-i—”
you were sputtering out nonsense, still fighting a battle as to whether you wanted to defend yourself or admit the truth.
luckily, nicholas was there to do it for you.
“look at her,” he said with a laugh. “it’s obvious she liked what she saw. we’ll do it again for you, if you want.”
“no, we won’t,” euijoo interjected with a scoff.
and then, just for a split second, he saw it. on your face, a flash of disappointment. it was unconscious even to you, but it seemed like deep down, you were a bit disappointed that he wasn’t interested in recreating the show you’d seen just a few minutes earlier.
“wait a minute,” he said. “you actually liked it?”
“i-i mean, i don’t know,” you answered, struggling to meet either of their eyes.
“tell me, baby,” ej pried. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be upset.”
your face was pulsating, your cheeks red. it took you a minute to muster up the strength to give him the true answer.
“yeah,” you finally admitted. “i liked it.”
you glanced up at them for just a moment to see them exchanging some kind of look. you didn’t know what it meant. all you knew was that nicholas was smirking at euijoo, a mischievous little grin.
“you know,” nicholas said, setting his cup down, “i think we should get out of here.”
-
the three of you left the party together and ended up back at yours and ej’s apartment.
it was awkward, admittedly, sitting on the couch in between the two men. none of you quite knew what to say, and the silence was deafening.
of course, it was nicholas who eventually broke the silence.
“so, should we get it started?” he asked.
“get what started?” euijoo asked, already annoyed.
“you know,” nicholas replied. “your girl wants a show. let’s give her one. and now that we’re all alone, she can join in on the fun.”
euijoo glanced down at you, scanning your face, looking for the assurance that you wanted to keep going.
“you really wanna do this?” he asked you.
“if you do, i do,” you affirmed.
he took a deep breath, glancing from you over to nicholas.
then, finally, “fine. let’s go to the bedroom.”
although it wasn’t his apartment, nicholas led the way down the hall to the bedroom, practically skipping with excitement.
you and euijoo followed, and within a few seconds, the three of you were on the bed.
you were laying back against the pillows, while euijoo and nicholas sat beside each other down at the end of the bed where your feet were.
“did you like kissing me earlier?” nicholas asked, eyes trailing ej up and down.
“it was…” euijoo trailed off, searching for the right word. “fine.”
nicholas scoffed, offended.
“it was better than fine and you know it,” he replied.
you sat up on your elbows, hardly sparing a blink as you watched their faces get closer and closer to each other.
“i wasn’t thinking straight,” ej said. “it’s hard to remember.”
nicholas hummed.
“then let me remind you.”
he grabbed euijoo’s face in one of his large hands, rings probably cold on euijoo’s skin, and then joined their lips together.
you watched in awe at the way their lips seems to just melt into each other’s, how it seemed so natural the way they kissed, like they’d been doing it for years.
after a moment, ej brought his hand up and wrapped it around the back of nicholas’s neck, pulling him in even closer. at that, nicholas moaned into ej’s mouth.
you caught a sliver of one of their tongues entering the other one’s mouth, unable to figure out who’s was who’s. but then it became a battle of both their tongues, rubbing and intertwining with each other.
you squeezed your legs together, already feeing yourself getting worked up just from the sight of them kissing. all you wanted to do was to somehow get between them, to be in on their messy makeout.
euijoo pulled back a bit, glancing over at you to check on you and gauge how you were taking it so far. your eyes were blown out wide, lips glossy from how many times you’d licked them in the past few minutes.
“still doing okay?” he asked you, his torso pressed against nicholas’s.
“are you kidding?” nicholas said with a laugh. “look at her. she’s better than okay.”
ej noticed it but didn’t want to say anything so he didn’t embarrass you. it was obvious that them making out had made your horny, though. your thighs pressed together and your bright red cheeks were evidence enough.
he smiled a little.
“you can touch yourself if you want,” he offered.
that was all he said before he faced nicholas again and pressed their lips back together. you released a drawn out sigh, watching your boyfriend and his best friend devour each other.
you wanted to touch yourself, you really did, but it was nerve wracking to think about doing so in front of nicholas. he’d never see you in that kind of way, and you weren’t sure what he’d think.
regardless, he was occupied in something—someone—else, so you took the opportunity to slowly slide your hand down your body and into your pants.
straight past your panties, your fingertips brushed over your clit. you gasped, feeling how wet you already were, staring to rub the puffy bud in little circles.
nicholas’s hands trailed down euijoo’s body, desperately rubbing up and down his sides, pushing the fabric of his t-shirt up until it was bunched up around his shoulders. they pulled apart for a moment so ej could lose the shirt entirely.
nicholas’s eyes drank in the sight of ej’s bare torso, his hands gripping and rubbing your boyfriend’s supple skin.
“fuck, look at your little fucking waist,” nicholas practically growled against ej’s mouth. “you’re so sexy, juju.”
ej smiled and leaned back in, pressing his now bare torso against nicho’s as their lips intertwined once again. nicholas held ej’s waist as he slid his tongue back into his mouth, rubbing it against ej’s.
you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, your fingers gliding further down your soaked pussy. you dragged them down your folds and back up, spreading your arousal and staring at the two men unashamed, biting your lower lip.
ej pulled back from the kiss to look over at you again.
“why don’t you take some clothes off, baby?” he suggested in that sickeningly sweet voice of his.
you immediately obliged, sliding your hand out of your pants to take your shirt and bra off, all while maintaining deep eye contact with him. you almost didn’t notice nicholas stripping as well, revealing his toned abdomen.
you unbuttoned your pants and got rid of them, left in nothing but your drenched underwear. both of the men eyed you hungrily, but ej was the first to make a move. he detached himself from nicholas and made his way up the bed over to you, finally kissing you instead.
you tangled your fingers in caramel-colored hair, moaning into his mouth. he kissed you slowly, sweetly, carefully, and you wondered if it was the same way he kissed nicholas.
meanwhile, nicholas rid himself of his pants, left in nothing but his boxers. he stared as you and ej kissed, watched the way your legs quivered and spread. there was a patch of wetness on your thin panties, and it had nicholas’s cock twitching.
“do you want him to touch you?” ej asked, briefly pulling back from your lips.
you glanced over at nicholas, feeling a wave of insecurity and intimidation wash over you at the way he was staring with that hard look on his face.
“i-i—”
“he won’t bite,” ej assured you, glancing behind his shoulder at nicholas. “even if it looks like he will.”
nicholas fixed his expression, trying his best to look less threatening for your sake.
“you’re soaked,” he commented, inching his way over to you and euijoo. “let me take these off you, yeah?”
silently, you nodded, gasping when his cold, ringed fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. you tried not to think too hard about it—the fact that you were now completely naked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, your bare cunt on full display for him.
sensing your horror, ej leaned back in and kissed you, distracting you from your embarrassment.
you gasped into his mouth when you felt nicholas’s fingers swipe up the length of your pussy, gathering your excess of arousal. he spread the wetness around, and his fingers prodded at your entrance. just when you thought he was going to slide them in, he dragged them back up and pressed down on your clit instead.
you whimpered into ej’s mouth, humping your hips up into the air desperately. it made nicholas chuckle, and only aggravated you.
“she’s so sensitive,” he mumbled, slowly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers. “you’re just as fun to play with as ej.”
ej hummed before he pulled apart from your lips, glancing down at where nicholas’s hand was rubbing you.
“don’t tease her,” he scolded. “she’s been good, you can fuck her with your fingers.”
you gulped, surprised to see your boyfriend take such authority when he was normally more submissive leaning. even nicholas looked surprised for a moment to be told what to do, but nonetheless, he obliged.
slowly and gently, he slid his fingers inside your pussy, getting you nice and stretched out. you cried out, gripping the bedsheet as your walls clamped around his slender fingers.
“fuck,” nicholas mumbled. “she’s so warm ‘n wet.”
ej began peppering kisses down your jawline and to your neck, and you felt like you were in heaven. the soft suction of his lips on your neck and nicholas’s lengthy fingers pumping in and out of you was euphoric. you didn’t think it could get better until you felt another hand on your pussy—euijoo’s.
while nicholas was finger fucking you, ej began to slowly rub your clit in circles, and your eyes rolled back into your head.
“oh my god,” you moaned, not even knowing what to do with yourself because it felt so good.
“is that good, baby?” ej asked you.
“yes, euijoo,” you choked out, clenching around nicho’s fingers. “it’s so fucking good.”
he smiled against your neck, continuing to kiss his way down until he made it to your chest. he wrapped his lips around one of your erect nipples and began suckling softly on the bud, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure and relaxation.
you couldn’t believe this was happening—you had two of the sexiest men you’d ever seen in your life pleasing you at the same exact time. ej rubbing your clit and sucking your nipples, and nicholas fingering you so deep that you were practically wetting the bed with your arousal.
suddenly, taking advantage of the fact that your lips were free now, nicholas brought his face to yours and kissed you—for real this time. his lips on yours and the way he kissed you was nothing like the way ej kissed you. nicholas was rougher, more intense. his tongue found its way into your mouth quickly, and you had to match his pace, so you rubbed your own tongue against his, exchanging saliva.
you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tugging on ej’s hair as he tugged your nipple between his teeth. you were practically riding both their hands, inching yourself closer and closer to your high. you needed it desperately, and you couldn’t hide it from them.
“you gonna cum, baby?” ej asked, gliding his tongue around your nipple.
all you could do was nod into nicholas’s mouth, unable to speak even if you weren’t kissing him. he plunged his fingers as deep as they could go inside of you, and your legs clamped around both their hands.
“fuck!” you yelped, breaking apart from the kiss. “shit, nghhh—i’m cumming!”
you threw your head back, releasing a strained moan as your climax washed over you. you tugged your boyfriends hair, tightening around their fingers as the knot in your stomach undid itself.
“fuck, that’s it,” nicholas cooed, watching the way your legs twitched as you started to come down. “so fucking pretty when you cum.”
he pulled his fingers out of you, and ej detached from your nipple. they were both sat on either side of you, looking down at you. ej carefully caressed your tummy, lulling you back down from the intensity of your orgasm.
“you’re so hard,” nicholas suddenly said, motioning to ej’s cock, straining obviously in his pants.
suddenly, nicholas was reaching over you to plant his palm against ej’s covered length, feeling it pulsate under his hand.
“fuck,” ej hissed, instinctively jutting his hips forward, pressing his cock further into nicho’s grasp.
nicholas smirked at his best friend’s reaction, squeezing ej’s length over the fabric of his sweatpants. he dragged his hand back and forth, but when he decided that wasn’t enough, he tugged on the waistband and tugged them down enough for ej’s length to spring free.
at the sight of your boyfriend’s dick drooling with pre cum, you eagerly sat up on your knees and positioned yourself in front of him. ej looked down at you tenderly, bringing his hand to the back of your head to guide your mouth onto his length.
you took him well like you always did, kitten licking up the precum from his tip before taking the rest of his length into your mouth.
ej sighed in pleasure, dropping his head back. you glanced up, only to find nicholas leaning forward and planting a firm kiss to ej’s neck.
“fuck,” ej groaned, bringing his other hand to the back of nicho’s neck.
it was hard to keep your eyes open with the tip of his long cock gagging you when it hit the back of your throat every few seconds, but you refused to miss what was occurring in front of you. nicholas sucking hickeys into ej’s neck was a beautiful sight, and you could feel yourself getting worked up all over again.
and it only got better when you watched ej’s hand carefully drag down the front of nicho’s torso, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. they made eye contact, seemingly exchanging information telepathically, and then ej was slipping his hand into the other’s boxers.
“oh shit,” nicholas moaned as ej began stroking him slowly. “fuck—that’s good.”
you watched the bump of ej’s hand moving in nicholas’s boxers, so entranced by the sight that you found yourself slacking on the blowjob you were giving.
“mmm, keep going, baby,” ej urged, drawing you back in with that coaxing voice of his.
you turned your attention back to him, pushing him as deep into your throat as you could go. you clenched your eyes shut in discomfort, hollowing out your cheeks.
you deep-throated him for a few minutes before he let you up for a much needed breather. when your eyes reopened, you found that nicholas’s boxers were to his knees and ej’s hand was pumping his thick cock in a rapid motion.
again, you sat back and watched in awe. the chemistry they had, the way they both seemed to know what the other one liked, left you dumbfounded. you truly began to question if this wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this with each other.
“finish him off,” ej suddenly said to you, and your eyes widened.
“what about you?” you asked, glancing over at his long cock, standing straight up against his abs from how hard he was.
“don’t worry about me right now,” he retorted. “wanna see you take nicho, okay? wanna see you swallow everything he gives you. can you do that, pretty girl?”
you gulped with nerves, but nodded nonetheless. it was always hard to say no to ej, not that you wanted to.
you sat yourself on your knees in front of nicholas, face to face with his cock. a long vein ran all the way up from the bottom to the top, and so you traced it with your tongue before wrapping your lips around his bulbous tip.
“holy shit,” nicholas moaned, his hand finding the back of your head—not to push you, but to keep it firmly rested there. “that’s it, that’s a good girl.”
his words practically made you purr, your pussy nearly dripping onto the bed. you were so horny despite having cum all ready, but you needed more.
luckily, your boyfriend sensed that. before you knew it, ej was spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. and then, from the back, he licked a firm, electrifying stripe up from your hole to your clit, a lick so pleasurable that you whimpered around nicholas’s cock, jolting in delight.
“oh, yeah,” nicholas muttered. “fuck—is that good? you like getting your pussy eaten while you’re sucking me off?”
you eagerly nodded your head, your mouth stuffed too full to speak. although, you figured that even if your mouth wasn’t full, you still wouldn’t have been able to say anything. you were so fucked out, already dumb and you hadn’t even gotten fucked yet.
ej drank your arousal and licked your pussy up and down, circling the tip of his tongue against your puffy clit. you didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you opted for planting them on nicholas’s sharp hips, which gave you the leverage to suck him even deeper into your mouth.
your moans vibrated around his length, and he fucked his hips forward, making you gag when he hit the back of your throat.
“‘m fucking close,” he warned, tugging on your strands of hair.
you blinked up at him, your cunt tightening around euijoo’s tongue in excitement. just the thought of nicholas cumming was enough to make you feel like you could cum soon too.
he fucked his cock in and out of your throat a couple of more times before tensing, and then you felt the first string of hot, salty cum, hitting your tongue. you swallowed it and continued to do so with the ropes of it that followed, giving both him and ej what they wanted.
and nicholas looked so good when he came—his face scrunched up, releasing an array of beautiful sounds, abs tight and glistening with sweat—that suddenly, you felt like you were going to release all over euijoo’s face.
“e-ej!” you cried out, pushing your hips back into his face. “oh god, right there!”
his tongue rapidly flicked up and down, and suddenly, you, too, were cumming. you released all over his face, drenching him with your wetness, and he slurped it all up, licking your cunt clean.
you collapsed flat on your back against the bed when you were done cumming, looking up at the two men tiredly.
“wake up,” euijoo said, spreading your legs and making room for himself between them. “i haven’t cum yet, baby.”
your body was pliant from you sleepy you were, making it easy for nicholas to pick you up and place you on his lap, your back pressed to his sweaty chest. you put your feet on the tops of his thighs, spreading your legs and revealing your glistening pussy to ej.
you leaned back against nicho’s chest, steadying your breathing as ej lined himself up and nudged in until just his tip was inside you. with how wet you were, it wasn’t going to be hard for him to get you adjusted to his size.
as he slid inch by inch, nicholas wrapped one hand around your waist and brought it down to rub your clit. he used the other one to slide up your stomach and land on your breast, tweaking your hard nipple.
you felt like you were on another dimension, sandwiched between these two men, both of them stimulating every part of you. you felt so good, you couldn’t even do or say anything except lay there and take what they were giving you.
ej bottomed out and was quick to start thrusting, fucking you at a consistent pace from the start.
“is it good, baby?” nicholas asked in your ear, kissing just below it. “use your words.”
“it’s so f-fucking good,” you cried out, your body rocking back into his chest every time ej thrusted into you.
“you’re so pretty,” ej whispered, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. “such a sweet thing letting us play with you like this.”
you turned your head to the side and met nicholas’s lips, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth. you rubbed your tongues together, moaning pathetically and tiredly as ej fucked you hard and deep, his tip quickly finding your g-spot.
“mmmmph, oh my god,” you mumbled against nicholas’s mouth. “it feels so good.”
“i know,” nicholas cooed, pinching your nipples between his fingers. “i know.”
ej stared down at you in awe, perched on his best friend’s lap, making out with him. it was such an outrageously hot sight that he wanted to take a picture, and that way he’d never forget it.
but he was too close. he couldn’t think about stopping now, not when his orgasm was rapidly approaching. you could tell, too, based on his hips were moving fluidly, his thrusting losing its rhythm.
“cum again for me,” he commanded.
you looked up at him with big, watery eyes.
“can’t,” you whimpered out.
“hey, yes you can,” nicholas cooed, pressing his fingers firmly onto your clit. “you can do it. be good and cum for us, okay?”
you tossed your head back against his shoulder, and ej couldn’t resist. with your neck exposed like that, he felt like a magnet the way his hand immediately reached out to wrap around it. he squeezed just slightly, applying only a touch of pressure, but he knew it was just what you needed to get you to the brink of orgasm.
you clenched around him, legs shaking and threatening to close, but he kept them open. he thrusted, once, twice, three more times and then abruptly stopped, buried to the hilt inside of you.
you came with a silent, choked moan, your entire body twitching in nicholas’s lap. ej stuffed you full with his warm, sticky load, panting like he’d just run a marathon.
he slowly thrusted, riding and milking out both your orgasms, fucking his cum deep inside of you, where it belonged.
you were a mess. all three of you were, but you especially because—and you hadn’t realized it—but nicholas had cum against just from his cock rubbing against your back a few times. you were covered in cum from the inside out.
ej pulled out and helped you off nicholas’s lap. the three of your lay beside each other, practically melting into the sheets.
for a good ten minutes, there was silence. you were dozing off and only awakened when you felt a wetness on your skin.
you opened your eyes and realized the wetness was from ej wiping you off with a damp towel.
“you okay?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you softly on the forehead.
“mmm, yeah,” you answered tiredly.
nicholas was off the bed now, cleaning himself off and redressing. you realized, even in your tired state, that you didn’t want him to go. you didn’t like how neither them were laying beside you anymore.
“wait,” you called out weakly, getting nicholas’s attention. “can you guys just…get back in bed? can we just go to sleep together?”
ej and nicholas exchanged a glance.
“both of us?” nicholas asked.
“yeah,” you said. “if that’s okay.”
nicholas, who’d just put his shirt back on, immediately took it back off and crawled back into bed with you.
“more than okay,” he assured, kissing your cheek.
ej chuckled and climbed back into bed on the other side of you, pulling you into his chest.
“i could get used to this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.
and you could. you felt safe with both men there on either side of you. you thought that you didn’t want this to be just a one time thing.
“yeah,” ej agreed. “me too.”
the three of you fell asleep then, an end to a night that none of you expected.
Synopsis: It doesn't hurt to fuck the hot frat boys you were tutoring right? Especially when they fulfilled all your horniest fantasies?
Pairings: Jake x fem!reader x Euijoo, includes members of Enhypen and &team and my glorious goddess Yujin of Ive
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, actual porn, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you dumbfuck), threesome (2 scenes), double penetration, anal sex, dumbification, big dick ej and jake, oral (f and m recieiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, cock riding, dom ej and jake, vibrator use, ass slapping because duh, mayybee masochist ej and jake, masturbation (f), praise and degradation, reader gets called a cocksucker (lovingly), horrible use of frat terms, they're all freaky and horny dont ask me shit
A/N: the people of minhosimthings queendom, your queen has finally gone utterly mad. And with the madness, she's managed to craft the horniest, filthiest shit she's ever written because oh of COURSE her biases deserve the best treatment right? Jokes apart I lost so many braincells trying to think of scenarios so please don't get bored by everything ik im shit at writing threesomes. Also succesfully beat the 1000 block restriction by combining paragraphs yay. As always, enjoy, my darlings!
Word Count: 24.8k (get your pussies wet and ready)
Everyone on campus knew them. Everyone on campus loved them.
And you were about to suffer for the next two months.
How fun.
You had no idea how your professor even knew you. You were always in the second row seat in the corner, tucked away, fixed on your laptop. You procrastinated, studied, got the grades and went the fuck home, never speaking even once in class. Not when you dropped your pencil about 5000 metres away from you (right in front of your seat-partner) and they didn't notice so you chose to stay quiet for the rest of the class and went home and googled all the notes. Desperate times, desperate measures.
And then came your professor calling you to her office, telling you how perfect you’d be to tutor her weakest students for the upcoming final exam! Yipee!
Euijoo and Jaeyun. How could one even begin to describe Euijoo and Jaeyun?
They were such paradoxes, two bodies of complete irony, the sun and moon in one. They were part of the biggest and most famous frat on campus, &-En—the one known for epic parties, charity fundraisers that broke records and a roster of members who looked like they’d stepped out of a casting call for ‘University: The Musical’.
Both of them were campus royalty, the faces on every frat party flyer, every sports event poster, every stupid candid photograph people uploaded with captions about ‘college memories <3’. In summary, they were impossible to miss.
And ridiculously beautiful too.
Jaeyun with his soft black hair that always somehow fell perfectly over his forehead no matter how recklessly he moved, pretty in a quiet way that snuck up on you unexpectedly. He smiled at everyone, held doors open, remembered names; people talked about how he once carried an intoxicated freshman girl all the way back to her dorm because none of her friends could manage it properly.
Euijoo, his dyed hair a vibrant slash of autumn against the grey campus concrete, sitting on benches, gently coaxing skittish campus cats to eat from his hand. He had the kind of face people wrote songs about after making prolonged eye contact once. You’d once seen him climb a damn tree to grab an apple for some giggly group of girls who ran their manicured claws along his chest.
But despite the frat parties and loud crowds and expensive jackets and stupidly attractive friends, neither of them had ever seemed cruel. Frat-boyish? Absolutely. They roughhoused with their friends on campus lawns, walked around in sweats and sleeveless shirts like they were born for magazine covers, and showed up to lectures smelling faintly of expensive cologne and sleep deprivation.
But they were gentle, kind. You noticed things. The way Jaeyun always bowed politely to professors, the way Euijoo slowed his pace whenever someone walked beside him, the way they listened when people spoke.
Soft boys hidden beneath loud lives.
So when Professor Choi had asked you to stay behind after class, you genuinely thought you were being accused of plagiarism or tax fraud or something equally horrifying. Instead, she folded her hands together over her desk and smiled.
“I have two students who desperately need help before finals,” she said. “And I think you’d be perfect for tutoring them.” You had opened your mouth to reject the offer immediately—because absolutely not—before she continued.
“Euijoo and Jaeyun.”
“…What?”
Professor Choi laughed softly at your expression. “They’re struggling badly in biology.”
“That can’t be true,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. You had never, not once, spoken a word to either of them. Which was exactly why this whole situation was so bad. Because now you had to speak to them. Repeatedly.
“For two months?” you repeated weakly.
“Just until finals.” Professor Choi nodded sympathetically. “They’re both nice boys, it would be a pity if they failed.”
Yeah it would be a pity if you just jumped off a building right now.
You stared at her. She smiled brighter, like this was a gift. “They specifically asked for someone academically reliable, someone focused.” Which was apparently professor-code for antisocial. You sighed into your hands while she slid a paper toward you containing their schedules. “Please try your best with them,” she said gently. “They’re good boys.”
Good boys.
Right.
That was how you ended up back in your tiny one-person dorm later that night, sitting cross-legged in front of your mirror with your skincare half-done and biology notes scattered across your bed. The dorm was only yours because of your grades—a tiny mercy granted by scholarship credits and endless academic validation. It was small but quiet, and right then, it felt painfully too quiet. It was the kind of silence that amplified the impending doom.
You stared at your reflection. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you were going to sit across from Euijoo and Jaeyun for two entire hours pretending you were capable of functioning like a normal human being. You imagined awkward silences, you imagined humiliating yourself instantly, you imagined them leaning over your shoulder to ask a question and your brain physically short-circuiting.
Maybe they’d hate tutoring, maybe they wouldn’t show up, maybe they’d stare at you waiting for conversation while you slowly dissolved into the floor. Your stomach twisted as the harrowing reality closed in around you—tomorrow you were going to translate the Krebs cycle and mitochondrial DNA to Jaeyun, with his pretty, sharp eyes, and Euijoo, with his pretty, flame-kissed hair. Tomorrow, your beautifully silent, anonymous world was going to crack wide open. You dropped backward onto your mattress with a groan, one arm covering your face.
There were going to be the longest months of your life.
_____________
“Tutoring.”
“For the fifteenth fucking time—” Euijoo sighed, massaging his temple, “—yes. Tutoring. Biology. Final exam. Two months. Do you need me to draw a diagram?”
Nicholas stared at him like he’d just told him he was someone from an alien planet who’d travelled to earth to study humans. Beside him, Sunghoon chomped away at his jar of cheese balls.
“Why are you so interested anyway?” Jaeyun asked, not looking away from his game on the tv, “You usually don’t give a shit about either of us.”
“Yes I do.” Nicholas said in a defensive tone, “I give a shit about you two more than anyone else. Right Hoon?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Nicholas threw a cushion at his head. The frat house was unusually calm for once. Music still hummed faintly somewhere upstairs, and people moved through the halls every few minutes, but the main lounge had settled into the lazy atmosphere that only existed after midnight.
Jaeyun sat cross-legged on the carpet in grey sweats and a black hoodie, controller in hand. Euijoo occupied the far end of the couch, long legs spread comfortably, hair messy from showering. Both of them looked unfairly good for someone discussing biology tutoring at one in the morning. Nicholas, meanwhile, looked personally victimized.
“I still don’t understand how this happened,” he muttered. “You two failing biology feels very incorrect. You’re the only ones here who actually study.”
“Ew studying.” Sunghoon said, his silver hair gleaming in the soft light.
“We’re not failing,” Jaeyun defended.
“You got a thirty-two.”
Jaeyun paused. “…Okay but the class average was bad too.”
“The average was seventy-one.”
Sunghoon snorted into his cheese balls. Before Jaeyun could throw something at him, the front door opened, letting in a burst of cool night air and two more of their brothers.
“Heard the death sentence was finalized,” Fuma said, hanging his jacket by the door.
“It’s not a death sentence,” Jaeyun muttered, his car on screen crashing into a wall. He tossed the controller aside in defeat.
Jungwon blinked. “Still talking about tutoring?”
“Unfortunately,” Euijoo muttered.
“Oh, you guys got lucky.” Fuma dropped onto the armchair with a grin.
Jaeyun looked over. “How?”
Jungwon pointed lazily toward them. “I talked to Professor Choi earlier this week.”
Euijoo frowned, the reddish-orange of his hair seeming to burn a little brighter under his suspicion. “Why were you talking to Professor Choi?”
“She likes me.”
“You literally helped her carry boxes one time.”
“And now we’re connected spiritually,” Jungwon said seriously.
Sunghoon made a thoughtful noise. “That’s beautiful.”
“Anyway,” Jungwon continued, “I told her to get you idiots the best tutor possible before finals destroyed your GPAs.”
Nicholas gasped softly. “You care.”
“I care about the frat reputation,” Jungwon corrected instantly. “If two of our members fail biology, people will think we’re stupid.”
“We are stupid,” Sunghoon said.
“That’s not the point.”
Fuma leaned back comfortably. “I know who your tutor is, actually.”
Euijoo lifted his head slightly. “You do?”
“Top of the class,” Fuma said simply. “Like ridiculously top of the class.”
“Great.” Jaeyun groaned immediately. “So they’re gonna hate us.”
“Nah.” Fuma said. “She’s just quiet.”
Silence. Actual, physical silence. It was like the entire world had just collapsed, the way all of them stared at Fuma.
“…She?” Nicholas repeated slowly.
“It’s a she?” Sunghoon sat upright so fast the jar of cheese balls nearly flew off his stomach.
Fuma blinked at them. “Yes?” The room exploded.
“No one said it was a girl!” Nicholas yelled.
“Why would we assume that?!” Jaeyun shouted back.
“Because tutors are always men named Daniel!” Sunghoon argued passionately.
Euijoo rubbed his face tiredly while Nicholas looked personally betrayed. “You let me picture some forty-year-old economics major this entire time.”
“She’s not even an economics major,” Fuma said.
“That’s not the issue.”
“Wait.” Jaeyun stared at Fuma suspiciously now. “You know her personally?”
“Not really,” Fuma admitted. “We’ve talked a few times.”
Nicholas gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. Fuma has female acquaintances.”
“Please grow up.”
“Wait. Is she at least normal?” Jaeyun asked, head tilted like a curious pup.
Fuma stared at him. “You’re asking if someone’s normal while Nicholas is currently wearing sunglasses indoors.”
Nicholas pointed at him. “Fashion never sleeps.”
Sunghoon grabbed another handful of cheese balls. “Important question though.”
Euijoo already looked tired. “What.”
“Is she pretty?”
Jaeyun groaned loudly. “Why does that matter?”
“Because,” Nicholas said as though explaining basic mathematics to children, “if I’m being forced into academic rehabilitation, I at least deserve visual motivation.”
“You’re not even being tutored,” Euijoo said.
“I’m emotionally involved.”
Fuma shrugged. “I mean…yeah.”
Immediately, Nicholas sat upright. “Yeah?” he repeated eagerly.
Fuma looked amused now. “Pretty. In a scary smart way.”
Jaeyun sighed deeply and leaned back against the couch behind him. Sunghoon winced, “Oh you guys are finished.”
“Fantastic.” Euijoo groaned into his hands.
“Don’t act miserable,” Jungwon said. “You’re the ones who ignored every warning sign before exams.”
“We were busy,” Jaeyun argued weakly.
“With what?” Sunghoon asked. Jaeyun opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
Nicholas pointed at Euijoo accusingly. “You better not flirt your way out of this.”
Euijoo looked offended. “I don’t do that.” All four of them stared at him. Jaeyun burst out laughing first.
“Bro,” Sunghoon said through laughter, “you once got an extension because Professor Lee said you looked exhausted.”
“I was exhausted.”
“You smiled at her once and she extended the deadline for the whole class,” Nicholas corrected.
Fuma, meanwhile, looked entertained. “Honestly? I can’t picture her tolerating either of you.”
“Great,” Jaeyun muttered. “Love that for us.”
“She’s really quiet,” Fuma continued. “But nice.”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Pretty and quiet.”
“Yes, Nicholas,” Jungwon sighed. “Women exist.”
“Do you think she’s mean pretty or cute pretty?” Sunghoon asked seriously.
“Can you freaks focus?” Jaeyun said.
“No, wait,” Nicholas interrupted. “This matters.”
“It absolutely does not.”
“It does,” Sunghoon insisted. “There’s a psychological difference.”
A moment later, both of their phones buzzed at the exact same time. Nicholas lunged forward instantly like a starving animal detecting food.
“Ohoho.”
Jaeyun narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”
Too late, Nicholas had already snatched Jaeyun’s phone from beside him while Sunghoon practically folded himself over the couch trying to read Euijoo’s screen upside down. Nicholas read aloud in the most robotic voice imaginable:
“Hello. This is regarding tomorrow’s biology tutoring session.”
Sunghoon lost it immediately, nearly choking on a cheese ball. “Oh my god,” he wheezed. “That’s terrifyingly formal.”
Nicholas continued dramatically. “Would 4:30 PM at the science library be suitable for both of you? Please let me know if adjustments are needed. Thank you.”
The room dissolved into laughter. Jaeyun dragged a hand down his face. “Why does it sound like an email from the government?”
Euijoo, despite himself, smiled a little. “It’s polite.”
Nicholas clutched his chest. “‘Please let me know if adjustments are needed.’ Euijoo, she thinks you pay taxes.”
Sunghoon wiped tears from his eyes. “You’re gonna show up tomorrow and get assigned homework and a retirement plan.”
Jaeyun grabbed his phone back with an exhausted sigh. “She already hates us.” He decided.
“I don’t think she hates you,” Fuma said.
“She texts like she’s the dean.” Nicholas argued. The phone buzzed again suddenly and Nicholas immediately lunged for it like a feral animal. “Oh my god there’s more.”
Euijoo held the phone out of reach effortlessly. “Get away from me.”
Jaeyun checked his own screen first and snorted. A follow-up message.
“Also, please bring any previous test papers if possible so I can identify which topics need the most attention.”
The room went silent again. Then Nicholas whispered, horrified, “She’s so organized what the fuck.”
Sunghoon looked genuinely afraid now. “You guys are meeting a real academic weapon tomorrow.”
Jaeyun dropped backward onto the carpet dramatically. “I’m calling in sick.”
“You can’t call in sick to tutoring,” Jungwon said.
“Watch me.”
Fuma laughed quietly while Euijoo typed out a reply. “4:30 works. We’ll be there. Thanks.” Short and simple. But he reread it twice before sending anyway. Nicholas noticed immediately.
“Oh?” he said slowly. “Why are you typing so carefully?”
Sunghoon clutched Nicholas’s arm with faux shock. “He wants the tutor to think he’s literate.”
Jaeyun pointed accusingly at Fuma from the floor. “This is your fault for telling them she’s pretty.”
“I said she seemed nice!”
“Same thing,” Nicholas argued.
Euijoo ignored them completely, tossing his phone beside him before standing. “I’m sleeping.”
“Same.” Jaeyun agreed, running a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna pass biology. Which is why we,” he said, emphasizing the word as he looked pointedly at Nicholas and Sunghoon, “are going to bed at a reasonable hour so we can actually focus tomorrow.” This announcement was met with exaggerated gasps and mock applause.
“The &-En pillars, turning in before midnight? For studying?” Nicholas clutched his heart. “The world is ending.”
Jungwon made a dramatic gagging noise “We’re witnessing history here.”
Sunghoon pointed at them solemnly with a cheese ball between his fingers. “Good luck, scholars.”
“Can’t wait to hear all about your future A pluses tomorrow.” Nicholas crowed.
Euijoo flipped him off lazily as he headed toward the stairs, but despite the chaos behind him, his mind lingered strangely on tomorrow. Jaeyun was on the same thing, the stiff, painfully formal text not leaving his mind. It was like someone was trying very hard not to say the wrong thing and something about it felt strangely endearing.
Till tomorrow it was.
__________
You were about to combust. You were about to die.
It was 4:31. One minute late, yeah of course they hated you. Why wouldn't they? You were the one who sent that grandma ass text to them last night so now they obviously thought you were some stuck up nerd who ate data reports for breakfast.
‘Would 4:30 PM at the science library study hall be suitable for both of you?’ Suitable for both of you—you sounded like someone’s divorced aunt scheduling a dentist appointment. Cool, this was so cool.
You sat tucked into the far corner of the science library, half-hidden behind a stack of biology textbooks you’d arranged in front of you like defensive barricades.You’d arrived twenty minutes early out of sheer panic and now you were spiraling. Your outfit situation certainly wasn’t exactly helping either.
Every decent shirt you owned had apparently decided to unionize overnight and sit in the washing machine damp and unusable, leaving you with exactly one option: a white button-up that dipped lower at the collar than you normally liked. One wrong move and you’d be in jail for flashing everybody. Which meant you’d spent the entire walk to the library awkwardly tugging at it every thirty seconds like a Victorian woman protecting her honour.
Your thumb mindlessly scrolled through videos as you waited, desperate distraction after desperate distraction until you landed on some stupid clip of a raccoon stealing cat food while dramatic orchestra music played in the background. The raccoon knocked over the bowl and you snorted before you could stop yourself.
And immediately after, the universe decided it hated you as a laugh sounded behind you—warm and surprised and very close.
“Oh my god,” a voice said through barely contained laughter. “Is that a raccoon edit?”
Your soul left your body and you nearly launched your phone across the library. You whipped around so fast you nearly elbowed your water bottle off the table.
And there they were.
Tall—that was your first coherent thought—just offensively tall.
Jaeyun stood slightly behind Euijoo, black hair falling messily over his forehead, soft eyes crinkled from laughing. Even in something so simple—a navy hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and loose grey sweatpants—he looked so majestic, a sort of Adonis.
And Euijoo—jesus fucking christ. The hair was somehow even worse in person, softer-looking under the library lights, messy in a way that looked accidental and intentional all at once. He wore a black zip-up over a white shirt, rings glinting faintly as he adjusted the strap of his bag.
You were going to die here.
“I—” you stammered instantly, locking your phone screen so fast it nearly slipped from your hand. “It just came up on my feed, I wasn’t—”
Jaeyun lost it. “No, no,” he said quickly, holding his hands up. “I’m not judging you. The music made it ten times funnier.”
“It just autoplayed,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so aggressively you almost dropped it. “I wasn’t searching for raccoon content specifically.” There was a pause and Euijoo’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Specifically?” he repeated quietly. Heat rushed into your face so violently you considered throwing yourself through the nearest library window.
You closed your eyes for one brief moment. “Okay,” you thought to yourself. “This is horrible.”
“You text exactly how I imagined.” Jaeyun was visibly delighted now. “The ‘please let me know if adjustments are needed’ almost made me stand up straighter.”
Euijoo nodded beside him. “Very professional.”
“I don’t talk like that normally,” you defended instantly.
Jaeyun raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“Yes,” you lied. Of course your antisocial dumbass always talked like that.
Euijoo finally sat down across from you, movements easy and relaxed while you sat there like a frightened woodland creature. “I’m Euijoo,” he said gently.
You nodded too fast. “I know.” Silence, your eyes widened. “I mean—not like weird know,” you corrected immediately. “Not stalker-ish. Just like campus-knowledge know. Like everybody knows—not everybody, probably, statistically speaking that wouldn’t even make sense—”
Yeah the universe should have just killed you already.
Euijoo looked down for a second, hiding a smile. Jaeyun had physically bent forward laughing now. And somehow, impossibly, the panic in your chest loosened a little.
“I’m Jaeyun,” he offered kindly, like you weren’t actively self-destructing in front of them.
You nodded again. “I know that too.” Jaeyun stared at you. You stared back in horror. “Jesus Christ,” you mumbled, covering your face with one hand. “Can I restart this entire interaction?”
“No,” Jaeyun said immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Euijoo leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you fumble with an expression that was far too entertained for someone who was supposed to be struggling biology students.
“This is the best first meeting I’ve ever had.” He added softly.
You peeked through your fingers suspiciously. “You’re making fun of me.”
“A little,” Jaeyun admitted.
“But affectionately,” Euijoo said.
Oh.
Oh ok where was your gun.
You dropped your hand back onto the table and immediately knocked your pen onto the floor. The three of you watched it roll away in silence. You stared at it. Then stared ahead instead.
“I’m leaving it there,” you decided quietly.
Jaeyun laughed so hard he had to lean back in his chair. Euijoo shook his head, smiling properly now before leaning down to pick the pen up for you. Your heart nearly stopped from embarrassment when his fingers brushed yours lightly handing it back.
“Thank you,” you said far too formally.
“You’re welcome,” he replied with equal seriousness, “Now should we start before any more accidents happen?”
“Yep.” Jaeyun replied enthusiastically, pulling out a genuinely massive folder from his bag, “You wanted all our tests right?”
Universe, where was the damn gun.
The session itself started chaotically. Mostly because Jaeyun and Euijoo apparently shared one singular brain cell when placed together. At one point, Jaeyun confidently identified the mitochondria as “the thing that does vibes.” Euijoo had immediately buried his face in his hands while you stared at them in genuine disbelief.
“It’s the powerhouse of the cell,” you said weakly.
“Right,” Jaeyun nodded seriously. “That’s what I meant. Vibes.”
And somehow—somehow—it got easier after that. The tightness in your shoulders slowly disappeared the longer the session went on. The awkwardness never fully vanished—you still nearly choked on your water when Euijoo leaned closer to look at your notes once—but it became manageable.
Jaeyun asked questions constantly, even if half of them sounded ridiculous at first. “So wait,” he’d said at one point, frowning at his worksheet, “if enzymes speed reactions up, why don’t they just keep going forever?” And instead of pretending to understand when he didn’t, he genuinely waited for your explanation, brows furrowed in concentration.
Euijoo was quieter. He absorbed things carefully, eyes flicking between your diagrams and textbook while he listened. Sometimes he’d go silent for a full minute before suddenly asking something terrifyingly specific that forced you to rethink how you explained the concept. You liked that a lot more than you expected.
And they were nice. God, they were annoyingly nice. Jaeyun apologized every single time he interrupted you, even accidentally. Euijoo kept sliding your highlighters back toward you whenever they rolled too far across the table because apparently your motor skills deteriorated under stress.
At one point, while you were explaining cellular respiration, you’d gotten too into it and started gesturing aggressively with your pen.
Jaeyun blinked at you. “You really like biology.”
You froze mid-sentence. “I mean,” you said awkwardly, “academically.”
Jaeyun laughed softly. “No, I mean it’s cool.”
Now why did your chest suddenly feel so tight? Probably because nobody usually called your interests cool.
Then, near the end of the session, something genuinely shocking happened. Jaeyun got a question right. Not partially right. Actually right. You’d stared at his paper for a full three seconds before looking up slowly.
“See?” Jaeyun immediately pointed at the answer triumphantly. “Academic weapon.”
Euijoo leaned over to look and blinked. “Wait, you actually got that?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because I know you.”
Jaeyun looked offended while you laughed before you could stop yourself. Both of them looked up immediately. And for one horrifying second, you realized that was probably the first time you’d laughed properly around them for the past three hours.
Jaeyun grinned instantly like he’d won something.“You’re way less scary when you laugh.”
.By the time the session ended, your notes were scattered everywhere, Jaeyun had somehow eaten two protein bars during a lesson on DNA replication, and Euijoo had finally understood something he’d been stuck on for weeks.
And weirdly—you’d had fun.
__________
Once you got back home, a realization hit you that made you genuinely sit down and think about life for a second.
That tutoring session had been….actually great?
You were back in the sanctuary of your dorm, the door locked firmly against the world. You’d dumped your bag, kicked off your shoes and were about to collapse into your usual post-social-interaction coma when it hit you, so foreign and unexpected that it made you genuinely stop and think about life for a second.
They hadn’t laughed at you meanly even once. Okay, they laughed at you constantly, but not cruelly—a particularly mind boggling difference. And they’d listened to you too, to your very quiet voice which was akin to the flap of a butterfly’s wing. Jaeyun had looked genuinely excited when he finally understood something. Euijoo had quietly thanked you after you re-explained transcription for the third time without sounding annoyed. Nobody had treated you like some awkward invisible thing sitting in the corner.
You sat down on the edge of your bed in complete silence, staring at your wall like you’d just uncovered a government conspiracy. Then you fell backward onto your mattress, staring at the ceiling. You’d expected arrogance, disinterest—frat boys who’d spend two hours scrolling through their phones while you suffered quietly beside them.
Instead they’d just been…..two guys who were genuinely disgusting at biology and genuinely grateful for the help. It was cool. It was, dare you think it, great. The feeling that settled in your chest was weird—a low, warm hum of something like accomplishment, mixed with a strange, lingering awareness of Jaeyun’s eager eyes and the careful way Euijoo had handed you your pen. It was nice, suspiciously so and now you felt strange; like maybe these months weren't going to destroy you after all.
Shaking your head slightly to dispel the peculiar buzz, you decided the best course of action was a hard reset. A return to your most reliable, private comfort.
The cursor hovered over the familiar title. You’d bookmarked this one last week, a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers fic in your favourite fantasy fandom, renowned in the comments for its particularly… thorough eighth chapter.
The tags were a delicious wall of text, you immediately spotted your favourites: size kink, bondage, degradation, a mating press and a full fucking nelson? Oh weren’t you in for a treat tonight. You skimmed them, a ritual as comforting as the first sip of tea. Your eyes caught on something and a faint, unrelated echo of Jaeyun’s voice—“For real? Oh, hell yeah!”—flitted through your mind before you firmly pushed it away. This was your time, your space.
You clicked open. The prose was immersive, pulling you instantly into a torch-lit chamber where the two protagonists, after chapters of biting dialogue and fraught glances, finally faced the precipice of their desire. The author was a master of the slow reveal, of the aching detail—the hesitant brush of a calloused knuckle against a jawline, the hitched breath that was more telling than any confession.
You read curled up on your bed, the dim glow of your laptop the only light. As the characters’ verbal sparring dissolved into breathless, urgent whispers, your own breathing began to subtly sync with the rhythm on the screen. A familiar, low thrum of heat started in your belly, a pleasant counterpoint to the weird buzz still lingering from the afternoon.
One hand scrolled slowly, absorbing every beautifully crafted sentence. The other drifted down, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and underwear. Your touch was light at first, exploratory, mirroring the tentative explorations described in the text.
The hero’s voice in your head, low and rough with praise—“You’re doing so well, just like that…”—coalesced with the memory of a different kind of approval, of two sets of eyes fixed on you with grateful focus.
You pushed the thought away, focusing on the fiction, on the safe, controlled fantasy. Your fingers moved with more purpose, circling in the slow, practised rhythm that you knew worked. Your back arched slightly off the mattress as a particularly vivid line of description—a bite against a collarbone, a whispered command—sent a sharp jolt through you.
The sensations built, a steady crescendo. The warm hum in your chest from earlier seemed to migrate, to fuse with the physical heat coiling tighter and tighter low in your body. The images from the story—tangled limbs, sweat-slicked skin, desperate pleas—flashed behind your closed eyelids.
For a fleeting second, the fantasy blurred at the edges; the careful hands in the story weren’t entirely fictional, they were unexpectedly gentle, handing you a pen, and the voice murmuring praise was eager, relieved, saying you got one.
It was that confusing, illicit overlap—the real, strange warmth of the day colliding with the reliable, fabricated heat of the story—that finally tipped you over the edge. Your breath caught, a soft, stifled sound in the quiet room as the tension shattered into waves of release, leaving you trembling and spent against your pillows.
For a long moment, you just lay there in the aftermath, the blue light of the laptop screen casting everything in a cool, unreal glow. The peculiar buzz was gone, dissolved into a heavy, physical lassitude. The weird feeling of accomplishment was still there, but it was quieter now.
You closed the browser tab with a soft click, the finality of the sound sealing the chapter on both the story and the day. The months stretched ahead, but the dread was now just shadows, and for now, the shadows felt manageable. You suddenly couldn't wait for the next session two days later.
Meanwhile on the other side of the campus—
“So…”
“So.”
“She’s hot.”
“Oh my god she’s so damn hot.”
Jaeyun was lying on his back on his bed, one arm behind his head, staring at the constellation of glow-in-the-dark stars stuck haphazardly to his ceiling. Euijoo was perched on the edge of his own meticulously made bed, ostensibly examining a highlighter as if its chemical composition was the most fascinating thing in the world.
They were supposed to be reviewing the notes you’d helped them make. The pages were open on Jaeyun’s desk and Euijoo’s bed, covered in highlighted terms and doodles on the margins. Neither was looking at them.
Jaeyun turned his head on the pillow, his dark eyes finding Euijoo’s profile in the dim lamplight, whose shoulders slumped as if released from a wire. He dropped the highlighter.
“What the fuck are we even thinking about?” He breathed, his words fervent.
“How we find our tutor hot.” Jaeyun deadpanned.
It was a floodgate opening. The careful focus, the respectful masks they’d worn for two hours in the library fell away completely, revealing the sheer, dizzying impact you’d had on them. Another silence followed, mostly because neither of them knew where to even begin. Because it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything all at once. Their minds (hive mentality perhaps) were fixated on the ravishing beauty of you. And the shirt.
Oh that damn shirt.
Cut so dangerously, both of them could see everything when you leaned forward, unaware of your own skin because you were so engrossed in biology. But neither of them was willing to admit how much heat had flushed between their legs at the sight of your cleavage.
Jaeyun groaned into the mattress dramatically. “The glasses thing almost killed me.”
Euijoo looked over immediately. “Right?”
“Like why was she pushing them back up every thirty seconds?” Jaeyun sat up halfway, scandalized. “How am I supposed to focus on mitochondria during that?”
“The way she explains things,” Jaeyun continued, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling, seeing not stars but the intense, thoughtful furrow of your brow. “It’s like…..her voice just cuts through all the noise in my head about this stupid class. Kinda hot.”
“I know,” Euijoo agreed, running a hand through his hair, messing it. “And she has this…this tiny little frown she does.” He breathed, “I think I almost lost it.”
“And her hands,” Jaeyun said, almost to himself, “I’m going to be so weird about her hands.”
“Go ahead.” Euijoo laughed, then sighed, “Wow. We’re kind of the worst people to ever exist right now.”
“We are.” Jaeyun conceded, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Man what the hell would she think of us right now? She’s just so…”
“Hot.” Euijoo finished for him, the word definitive. “Incredibly hot.”
“I was going to say innocent but yeah that too.” Jaeyun hummed.
Euijoo laughed under his breath. You did look so….soft. Warm eyes, nervous hands, pretty lips constantly pressing together after you spoke like you were mentally reviewing every sentence for errors. Euijoo leaned back in his chair smiling helplessly now while Jaeyun buried his face into a pillow.
“She looked so excited when we understood something,” Euijoo murmured.
“She looked at me like I’d solved world hunger when I got that answer right.”
“To be fair,” Euijoo said, “I was also shocked.” Jaeyun threw a pillow at him.
“But seriously,” Jaeyun continued, “she’s weirdly easy to be around.”
That was the strangest part. Usually people acted different around them. Too eager, too shy, too damn performative. But you were so fucking awkward that it circled back around to honesty. Every expression showed on your face immediately, every embarrassed thought practically announced itself out loud. And the funniest thing? You clearly had no idea how pretty you were.
Euijoo remembered the exact moment you laughed properly for the first time. How you’d immediately looked startled afterward, like the sound escaped accidentally. Jaeyun remembered the way you frowned at your notes while concentrating, lips moving silently as you reread things. Both of them remembered how softly you’d thanked Euijoo for picking your pen up.
Jaeyun turned his head toward Euijoo suddenly. “She definitely thinks we’re cooler than we are.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Jaeyun sighed dramatically. “This is bad.”
Euijoo raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because now I actually wanna go to tutoring.” A beat passed.
Then Euijoo admitted quietly, “…Yeah.”
They lapsed into silence again, but this one was charged, buzzing with shared, stunned realization. Jaeyun sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We can’t be weird about this,” he said, his tone serious but his eyes still bright. “We cannot fuck this up by being…you know. Us. Around girls.”
“What are you talking about? We’re amazing around girls.”
Jaeyun stared at him. Then burst out laughing. “No, we’re not.”
“Yes we are!”
“Euijoo, you accidentally flirt with baristas.”
“Yeah and you once thanked a girl for handing you a receipt and she turned red.”
“That sounds like her issue.”
“Exactly this.” Euijoo pointed accusingly at him. “You can’t do this cool boy shit with her.”
“You can’t do it with her either then!” Jaeyun said.
Euijoo leaned back in his chair looking deeply unbothered. “I’m naturally charming.”
“You’re naturally annoying.” Jaeyun ran a hand through his hair before dramatically breathing out and putting on the face of someone who hadn’t devoured two tubs of (Jungwon’s) ice cream an hour ago. “Okay. New rule.”
Euijoo already looked tired. “Why are you like this?”
“We act normal.” “We do act normal.”
“No flirting.”
Euijoo barked out a laugh. “You say that like we planned to flirt with her.”
“You smiled at her like three times.” “That’s literally normal human activity, Jaeyun.”
“You picked her pen up.” “It rolled near me, you freak?”
Jaeyun pointed at him triumphantly. “Ahh, getting defensive are we?”
Euijoo threw another pillow. This one hit him directly in the face.
“Okay,” Jaeyun mumbled through laughter, shoving the pillow away. “Fine. Maybe we’re both screwed. But—” He shrugged his shoulders, “We’re gonna be normal, good students. We’re gonna sit down and learn and pass this godforsaken final.”
“And we don’t stare,” Euijoo added, as if making a pact.
“Right. No staring. At her hands, or her mouth, or the way her hair falls—”
“Jaeyun.”
“Sorry.” He flopped back onto the bed with a groan, draping an arm over his eyes, “You really think we’ll be able to survive the next one?”
Euijoo didn’t have an answer. He just looked at the neat, precise handwriting on the notes you’d helped them create—your handwriting—and felt a confusing, thrilling surge of anticipation that had absolutely nothing to do with cellular respiration and everything to do with the quiet, brilliant girl who had, in two short hours, rewritten their entire expectations for the months ahead. Euijoo then realised just how high their libidos were.
Yeah, they were absolutely fucked.
_______________
You were not a virgin by any means.
You’d had sex approximately one time in your life, a virginal sacrifice with your first, shitty boyfriend.
The memory of your first and only time was less a memory and more a clinical footnote, a checklist of sensations: pressure, a little pain, a lot of awkward shifting, the smell of his cheap cologne, and a profound, echoing sense of ‘is this it?’ It was over quickly, and the only thing that had trembled was your resolve to ever do it again.
You hadn’t cum, not even close. You hadn't known you were supposed to, not really. The messy, overwhelming crescendos described in books and movies felt like mythical geography, a place you’d heard of but never visited.
Even by yourself, with your own fingers, the journey often petered out into a gentle, sighing plateau—a soft orgasm that was more a relief of tension than a transformation of it. Pleasant, but faint, like hearing a symphony from another room five kilometres away.
That distance, that gap between what you read and what you felt, was precisely why you’d plunged into the world of fanfiction.
The stories were a map to a territory you couldn’t seem to reach on your own. The authors didn’t just describe sex; they charted the emotional and physical crevices of pleasure—the winding paths of anticipation and the seismic shifts of release. You read them to understand, to feel it vicariously, to try and translate the words on the screen into a language your body could finally speak.
You’d always been able to recognize when someone was objectively attractive—you had eyes after all. But that recognition was a detached, aesthetic appreciation—like admiring a painting or a well-designed car.
It had never, not once, translated into a visceral, physical want. The idea of actually fucking someone from your real life had seemed vaguely abstract, and entirely separate from the specific hunger you cultivated with your curated stories.
Until today.
Until the fifth tutoring session. Because as always, the universe hated your very existence.
Somewhere between the first session and the fifth, things had shifted so naturally that you hadn’t even noticed it happening at first.
The formality disappeared in pieces. First went the painfully stiff texting—your original messages had looked like official university announcements. By the second session, Jaeyun had replied to one of your carefully structured texts with: coming rn don’t perish without us. And somehow after that, the entire dynamic cracked open.
Then went the awkward silences. Not completely—you were still you, unfortunately—but enough that tutoring no longer felt like performing a social experiment under observation.
Now Euijoo and Jaeyun just…..talked to you, which you couldn't even believe was humanly possible. They talked to you casually and constantly.
Jaeyun, especially, had apparently decided that your concentration existed solely to be destroyed.
“You know,” he’d said during the third session while leaning dramatically across the table, “if mitochondria are powerhouses, does that technically make me an energy source?” You didn’t even look up from your notes.
“No,” you replied flatly. “You make everyone around you more tired actually.”
Jaeyun gasped like you’d stabbed him directly in the chest while Euijoo laughed quietly beside him.
And the worst part? You liked it.
You liked it so damn much it made your chest physically hurt.
Euijoo started sitting closer without realizing it, shoulder occasionally brushing yours when both of you leaned over the same worksheet. Jaeyun started stealing your pens constantly because apparently he lost every writing utensil he touched within seven minutes.
Both of them had developed this annoying habit of looking at you whenever something funny happened, like your reaction was somehow part of the experience now.
And outside tutoring sessions—
God.
That was where things became genuinely surreal.
The first time Jaeyun called your name across campus, you genuinely turned around expecting there to be another person behind you. Instead, you found him jogging down the library steps toward you with Euijoo beside him.
“Yo.” Jaeyun said breathlessly, like this was a completely normal way to address your tutor, “did you finish the bio review sheet?” You nearly walked into a pillar and Euijoo noticed instantly.
“She does that a lot around us,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“I hate both of you,” you replied automatically. But your face burned the entire walk afterward.
Then came the coffee. The horrifying, relationship-coded coffee. By the fourth session they’d started showing up with drinks already in hand, not even asking anymore. Jaeyun remembered your order after hearing it once and Euijoo started quietly sliding pastries toward you whenever your studying went too long and you forgot to eat.
“You look dead,” he’d said simply one afternoon while placing an iced coffee beside your laptop.
“That’s because I’m studying.”
“We never noticed.” Jaeyun drawled sarcastically.
You stared at both of them suspiciously over the rim of your coffee. “You’re weirdly caring.”
Jaeyun blinked. “Were we supposed to let you deteriorate?”
“Yes,” you answered immediately. “That’s what most people do.” The way both their expressions softened afterward made something uncomfortable twist warmly in your chest.
And somehow, impossibly, people had started noticing. Because apparently being repeatedly seen around two of the most well-known boys on campus transformed you from ‘that quiet girl from Biology 212’ into a subject of active campus curiosity. You started catching looks, whispers, double takes. The first time it happened, you nearly had a nervous breakdown.
You’d been sitting on the edge of the basketball court one afternoon trying desperately to finish a lab report while Jaeyun and Euijoo played with some of the others from the frat.
You weren’t even supposed to be there. Jaeyun had somehow convinced you by saying: “Just sit there and work. Your academic aura might help us.”
Which was stupid and yet you came anyway, because you were a dumbass. You sat cross-legged on the bleachers with your laptop while the sound of sneakers squeaking against the court echoed around you.
At first you genuinely managed to focus.
Then Jaeyun yelled:
“THIS SHOT’S FOR YOU, MY TUTOR.”
The entire court erupted immediately. You looked up in horror just in time to watch him completely miss.
Nicholas collapsed onto the floor laughing and Sunghoon screamed so loudly someone from the next court turned around.
Jaeyun pointed accusingly at the hoop. “She distracted me!”
Euijoo grabbed the ball next, grinning toward you lazily.
“This one’s for her then.”
“You are not helping—”
Swish.
The ball went clean through the net. The entire gym exploded. You physically covered your face with your hands while Jaeyun shouted betrayal at the top of his lungs.
After that, it only got worse. Now people knew you. Or at least knew of you.
You earned the following monikers:
“The bio tutor.”
“The girl Euijoo keeps looking for.”
“The one Jaeyun annoys constantly.”
It should’ve made you uncomfortable and maybe it did a little. But every time one of them spotted you across campus and their entire face brightened in recognition before they waved you over like it was the most natural thing in the world, you somehow forgot to care.
And then came the damned fifth session.
You were in the zone, explaining the intricacies of protein synthesis, when Jaeyun had gotten a question spectacularly right, a complex one about tRNA anticodons.
“Holy shit, I did it!” he burst out, a grin splitting his face. He turned that brilliant, triumphant smile directly on you. “You’re a genius, honey. An absolute genius.”
Honey.
The pet name landed like a spark on dry tinder. It was casual, warm, dripping with unthinking affection and your pencil stilled on the page.
Not even thirty seconds later, Euijoo, who was quietly connecting another dot, looked up from his notebook, his hair falling into his eyes. “So if I follow this….it’s like an assembly line, and the ribosome is the foreman reading the blueprint?” At your nod, a look of profound satisfaction had settled on his face. “Huh….you make it make sense, doll.”
Doll.
Two pet names in under a minute.
Honey. Doll.
Your calm shell developed a hairline fracture and a slow heat began to pool in your stomach. You finished that session on autopilot, your mind replaying the words in their voices.
And now, you were back in your dorm and the heat felt like a wire about to bust. You could feel the hunger at the bottom of your throat, screaming at you to satiate it.
You didn’t even wait to change out of your clothes, your mind fixed on wanting those calloused hands that fumbled highlighters to be steady on your naked skin.
You wanted to know if Euijoo’s focused intensity in solving a problem would translate to the focused intensity of his gaze on your body. You wanted to hear Jaeyun’s saccharine sweet voice groan against your neck for a reason that had nothing to do with biology.
You opened your laptop, bypassing your usual bookmarks. You navigated to a story you’d saved but never dared to read: a lengthy, explicit fic.
Un, deux, trois.
Perfection.
You clicked on it, the threesome tag seemed to wink at you.
As the story unfolded—two devoted knights finally claiming their wary, brilliant queen—you didn’t see fictional characters in a fantasy castle.
You saw a library study carrel pushed against a wall. You saw Jaeyun’s broad shoulders blocking out the lights, his eager mouth finding yours. You felt Euijoo’s careful hands, the ones that took such neat notes, mapping your ribs with a scholar’s attention to detail.
In the story, one lover whispered praises while the other drove the heroine to the edge.
In your mind, it was Jaeyun’s voice, hot in your ear, “You’re so smart, honey, so perfect for us,” while Euijoo’s steady, relentless touch between your legs unraveled every coherent thought you’d ever had all while he was moaning, “Such a good doll for us, yeah?”
You chased the feeling, the image of the two of them—their contrasting hair, their gentle focus now turned devouring—so vivid behind your eyelids. The soft, sighing plateau you were used to wasn’t the destination tonight.
You were climbing that staircase to heaven, the coil of heat tightening beyond its usual limits, spurred on by the illicit, perfect fantasy of them.
Your breath hitched, your back arching off the bed. The release, when it crashed over you, was not a faint echo from another room. It was a symphony played right in the heart of you, loud, shuddering, and utterly transformative. For the first time, your body understood the map perfectly.
And it had two very specific, very real guides to thank for the journey.
Oh well.
Wasn't this so fucking great for you?
__________
They say ladies and gentlemen, that necessity is the mother of invention. In this situation, the necessity was your pussy yelling to be touched…….to the thought of both of them.
The aftershocks of that first, real orgasm left you feeling like a new person inhabiting an old skin. The world had shifted on its axis, and the new gravitational pull had two names: Jaeyun and Euijoo.
By the ninth tutoring session, your situation had officially evolved from “minor academic inconvenience” into “active psychological horny warfare.”
Because apparently both of them had decided pet names were part of your curriculum now.
Every “honey, can you explain that again?” from Jaeyun was a bolt of heat straight to your core. Every low, thoughtful “doll, I think I’ve got it now,” from Euijoo made your breath catch.
“Honey, pass me the worksheet.”
“Doll, you skipped question four.”
“Sweetheart, if I fail this exam I’m blaming you personally.”
You were going to pass away. At first you’d genuinely thought they were doing it accidentally but then Jaeyun called you “pretty tutor” after getting an answer right and winked when you nearly inhaled your own spit. So no.
Definitely intentional.
Which was exactly why your dignity had deteriorated enough for you to do something deeply embarrassing one night at two in the morning.
You copied the entire text of that life-altering fantasy threesome fic into a blank Google Doc. Then, with a feverish, shameless focus, you used ‘Find and Replace.’ The fictional knight with the eager heart became Jaeyun and the one with the careful hands became Euijoo. And of course you even rewrote some parts on your own with details that reminded you of them. Then you immediately hide the document inside three different folders.
It was a raw, unvarnished act of carnal need—nothing else was fucking satisfying you anymore.
The document became your secret altar, a place where their imagined voices—“That’s it, honey, take it,” and “So perfect for us, doll, so good”—could play out in explicit detail against the stark white page. You returned to it often, each visit a temporary balm that only deepened the ache.
You’d told yourself it was harmless. But even you knew it wasn’t.
The present session was another exercise in sustained composure. You were all reviewing for the upcoming midterm, a thick cloud of shared academic stress mingling with your own, far more potent, personal tension.
You’d joked around in the beginning, a rare comedy moment from you, that you’d made report cards for the both of them before the exam, just for motivation. They’d tried to sneak a peek at your laptop and you immediately pulled it away.
But now, nature was calling, so you sighed and closed your textbook with a decisive thump that made them both look up
“I’m trusting you both alone for five minutes,” you warned, pushing yourself off your chair. You pointed at both of them threateningly. “And don’t touch my laptop.”
Euijoo raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As you walked towards the library restrooms, the echo of your words felt hollow. Your laptop sat open on the table, your Google Drive a single careless click away.
The second you disappeared around the corner, Jaeyun leaned back in his chair dramatically. “She still doesn’t trust us.”
“To be fair,” Euijoo said calmly, “you do act like a raccoon with Wi-Fi.”
“I trusted you.” Jaeyun gasped.
But despite the joking, neither of them actually touched your things at first. Jaeyun flipped through his own notes while Euijoo absentmindedly reread one of your annotated diagrams. Then Jaeyun noticed the document tab still open behind your biology slides. His eyes narrowed.
“…What’s that?”
Euijoo glanced over lazily. “Probably notes.”
“Maybe it's the report cards.” Jaeyun snorted.
“Report cards.” Euijoo snorted, shaking his head.
But his eyes drifted to your laptop. Jaeyun followed his gaze. The unspoken thought passed between them, a current of shared, guilty curiosity.
“Just… a quick look?” Jaeyun whispered, his finger already hovering over the touchpad. “To see if she actually made us report cards?”
Euijoo didn’t say no. He just leaned in, his heart hammering a strange rhythm against his ribs and Jaeyun clicked before common sense could stop him.
And both of them froze instantly.
Complete silence.
Jaeyun blinked once. Then twice. Euijoo leaned forward slowly, eyes widening the further he read.
The document that filled the screen had no title. But the first line stole the air from the room.
‘Jaeyun’s mouth was hot and demanding on yours, while Euijoo’s clever fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your—’
A jolt, white-hot and seismic, went through both of them. Jaeyun’s hand jerked back from the laptop as if burnt and Euijoo’s breath left him in a silent rush.
For a second, there was only the hum of the library and the deafening roar of blood in their ears. Horror—at being caught—flared for a single, blinding moment. But it was instantly, overwhelmingly, drowned out by a surge of pure, undiluted relief so powerful it was dizzying.
You thought about this. About them. Like this.
They scanned the text, their eyes flying over phrases, seeing their own names woven into acts of breathtaking intimacy—praise, possession, shared focus. It was their fantasy, the one they’d only whispered about in their room, written out in your unmistakable prose.
“Oh my god,” Jaeyun breathed, his voice ragged.
Euijoo couldn’t speak. He was re-reading a line where he was described as ‘methodical, worshipful, leaving no inch of skin uncharted.’ His face was on fire.
“No way,” he whispered, dragging a hand over his face slowly, stunned disbelief melting into something dangerously close to delight. “You’re kidding.”
Jaeyun let out a quiet laugh of pure disbelief and leaned back in his chair. “Oh my god.”
The sound of footsteps approaching made both of them sit up immediately. Jaeyun clicked back to the biology slides at lightning speed while Euijoo tried very hard to look normal—which failed instantly because both of them looked visibly brighter when you sat back down.
You paused immediately. “…Why do you both look guilty?”
“Crazy accusation.” Jaeyun said quickly. Euijoo picked up a pen before he laughed accidentally.
Your eyes narrowed. “Oh my god. What did you do?”
“Nothing,” both of them answered far too fast. You stared harder.
Jaeyun cracked first. “There’s a party tonight.”
“What.”
“At the frat house,” he continued casually. “You should come.”
You blinked.
“No.”
“Why not?” Euijoo asked, quieter.
“Because I enjoy surviving social situations.”
Jaeyun leaned across the table dramatically. “We’ll stay with you the whole time.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It should be.”
You looked between both of them suspiciously. Something definitely felt off. But there was also something strangely warm about the way they looked at you now.
Every shred of self-preservation you’d ever cultivated screamed at you to say no. Frat party? With them? It was a spectacularly bad idea, a one-way ticket to a social and emotional disaster.
Then Jaeyun hit you with the look.
His dark eyes went wide and pleading, his bottom lip jutting out just a fraction. It was a full-force, hopeful puppy-dog stare, completely at odds with the sinful things he’d just read about himself.
Beside him, Euijoo didn’t say a word. He just watched you, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he could see the exact moment your resolve would crumble.
It crumbled instantly.
“…For like one hour,” you muttered.
Jaeyun actually cheered, a soft, triumphant “Yes!” that he immediately tried to smother, looking around the library with a guilty grin. Euijoo ducked his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, strands of his hair falling forward to hide his face.
“Why am I getting the feeling my life’s about to get really complicated?” You chuckled weakly.
They both laughed then, a shared, relieved sound that eased the last of the tension. It was a laugh that said, ‘Yeah, it is, and we’re in it together.’
“I should… probably head out early,” you said, gesturing vaguely towards seemingly nothing. “To, uh, get ready, for my one-hour sentence.”
Euijoo watched you for a second before asking quietly, “What are you gonna wear?”
“Oh my god, good question.” Jaeyun immediately looked delighted.
You stared at both of them in betrayal. “Why are you acting like this is the Met Gala?”
“Because this is important,” Jaeyun replied seriously.
“It’s literally a frat party”
“So you’re saying you don’t respect our respectable establishment.” Jaeyun pouted up at you. Stupid pretty pink lips.
“I hate when you say things with confidence because it makes me nervous.” You groaned.
Jaeyun laughed while Euijoo leaned back in his chair, still looking strangely pleased just from the fact you’d agreed at all. You slung your bag over your shoulder and stood.
“Okay. One hour,” you warned again. “And if either of you abandon me there, I’m transferring universities.”
“We’ll text you the address.” Jaeyun said, his voice still bright with victory.
“Don’t be late.” Euijoo added, the quiet command in his tone sending a fresh shiver down your spine.
You disappeared around the corner before either of them could answer. The second you were fully out of sight, silence dropped over the table again.
Jaeyun slowly leaned back in his chair and Euijoo exhaled through his nose, dragging both hands over his face briefly. Jaeyun looked over immediately.
“So.”
Euijoo already knew where this was going. “Don’t.”
“She likes us.”
Euijoo stared at the ceiling like he was seeking divine patience.
Jaeyun grinned helplessly. “No, because actually think about this. She wrote about us.”
“Jaeyun.”
“She thought about us enough to write things down.”
“I’m aware,” Euijoo muttered, ears burning all over again. Because unfortunately, he was very aware. Jaeyun drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully before glancing sideways at him.
“You know why I invited her, right?” He said, biting his lip, an annoyingly attractive habit he had.
Euijoo lowered his hands slowly. “Because you have no survival instincts?”
“That too.”
Jaeyun’s grin turned slightly nervous underneath the humor now.
“But also because…” He hesitated once. “Maybe tonight gives us a chance to actually talk about it.” Euijoo went quiet.
Talk about it.
Oh.
Euijoo would have been lying if he said he wasn’t going to combust if he didn’t do all the things he’d read in the document to you in real life.
Jaeyun sighed dramatically, though his smile lingered. “If we don’t talk about it,” he muttered, “I’m gonna keep thinking about it until I fail biology again.”
Euijoo laughed quietly at that, though his own heart was beginning to race. Then after a second, he quietly admitted,
“…Yeah. Me too.”
___________
Your dorm looked like a small-scale crime scene.
Clothes covered half the floor. Makeup products sat scattered across your desk like evidence. Three separate outfits had already been rejected and thrown violently onto your bed over the course of forty-five minutes. You stared at yourself in the mirror with narrowed eyes.
This was stupid.
You were acting stupid.
It was just a party.
Not even a date, definitely not a date. Just one hour at a frat house with two boys you unfortunately found devastatingly attractive.
Cool.
So normal.
Your gaze drifted back toward the black dress hanging from your closet door which you had been trying hard to ignore. You’d bought it months ago during one of those dangerous online shopping spirals that happened at two in the morning when your brain convinced you that yes, actually, you were the type of person who attended rooftop parties and drank sparkling cocktails while looking mysterious.
Reality had proven otherwise and so the dress remained untouched ever since. Until now.
You grabbed it cautiously. It was short, scandalously short, short enough that your legs were on full display and your ass was perfectly framed and your chest was accentuated. The fabric hugged you more than your usual clothes did, soft black material dipping slightly at the neckline while the hem stopped mid-thigh. You stared at your reflection in silence. You looked pretty. Which was honestly a little alarming. Why the fuck were you putting in this much effort for some dumb party you wouldn’t have even heard of two months ago?
A knock sounded at your door before you could spiral further.
“You alive in there?” your friend Yujin called.
“Debatable.”
Yujin pushed the door open anyway and immediately froze. Then her jaw dropped. “Oh, you bitch.”
You blinked. “What?”
“You’ve been hiding all that under cardigans?” she demanded dramatically, stepping fully inside. “That is criminal behavior.”
Heat rushed into your face instantly. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“Too much?” Yujin repeated like she was personally offended. “You look hot!”
You glanced at yourself again uncertainly. The dress really did look good, which unfortunately made you even more nervous. Because they were going to see you in it. Your stomach flipped violently.
You groaned into your hands. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because they’re hot and nice to you.” Yujin replied instantly, fixing one of your earrings for you.
Yujin had been one of your only real friends since first year—mostly because she’d adopted you against your will after catching you eating dry cereal alone outside a lecture hall once. And she knew you all too well.
You grabbed your small bag while trying very hard not to think about how Jaeyun would probably whistle obnoxiously the second he saw you. Or how Euijoo would look at you quietly for one dangerous second too long.
Your heart was already beating too fast. This was a disaster.
The frat house was visible from halfway down the street. Music pulsed through the night air loud enough that you could feel the bass before you even reached the front lawn. Groups of students crowded outside laughing loudly beneath strings of warm lights wrapped around the porch railings.
You stopped walking. Yujin kept going for three steps before realizing.
“Oh no,” she sighed, turning back toward you. “Don’t do this.”
“I can still leave.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
“I suddenly remembered I love staying home.”
Yujin grabbed your wrist before you could retreat. “You survived tutoring sessions with two campus heartthrobs,” she informed you firmly. “You can survive one frat party.”
People moved around you constantly as you approached the house, music and laughter spilling from open windows while colored lights flashed faintly inside.
Your nerves worsened with every step. Then the front door opened and you were about to evaporate into thin air.
But instead of Jaeyun or Euijoo, Fuma appeared in the doorway first. He blinked once when he saw you. Then slowly grinned.
“Well damn.”
You immediately wanted to disappear. “Please don’t start.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You implied it with your face.” He chuckled, “Never thought you’d actually come.”
Yujin snorted beside you while Fuma stepped aside to let both of you in, music immediately swallowing the conversation the second you crossed the threshold.
The frat house was warm and loud and overwhelming in the exact way you’d feared. Lights flashed dimly across crowded rooms while people moved everywhere at once, laughter rising over music, conversations overlapping into noise. Someone nearly ran into you carrying chips before apologizing and disappearing upstairs again. You instinctively moved closer to Yujin. Fuma noticed immediately.
“You’ll survive,” He laughed quietly before guiding you through the hallway. People looked over as you passed and somehow that made you even more aware of the tight fabric clinging to your skin.
“Where are they?” you asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.
Fuma’s grin widened knowingly. “In the kitchen.”
You barely had two seconds to mentally prepare before Fuma led you around the corner and there they were.
Oh, this was just fucking unfair.
Fuck you universe.
Jaeyun sat on the kitchen counter laughing at something Nicholas was saying, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, dark hair messy like someone had run their hands through it repeatedly. A silver chain rested against the collar of his black shirt and—
Right.
You need to be breathing.
Very important for life.
Beside him, Euijoo leaned against the counter with a drink in one hand, hair pushed back slightly from his forehead. He wore a dark grey shirt that fit annoyingly well beneath an open black jacket.
What you would have given to be fucked stupid on that stupid counter with their stupid fingers.
Stupid stupid hot boys.
Both of them looked up at the exact same time. The conversation around the kitchen kept going normally, but the second their eyes landed on you, something shifted.
Jaeyun straightened slowly. Euijoo’s gaze moved over you once before returning to your face. A chill ran down your spine instantly. You suddenly became hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin.
Jaeyun recovered first. “Holy shit, am I in heaven?”
“You look beautiful.” Euijoo said quietly over the noise before Jaeyun could speak again.
Your heart betrayed you so violently you almost considered going to church and confessing your sins. But then again you probably would have imagined them fucking you in that tiny little booth so you steered away from the idea.
Nicholas whipped around so fast he nearly dropped his drink. “Oh my god,” he gasped dramatically. “Academic weapon spotted.”
Sunghoon looked up from where he’d been stealing fries directly off Jungwon’s plate and actually paused mid-bite. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Fuma undersold this situation severely.” You opened your mouth to respond and nothing came out.
Jaeyun’s grin widened immediately. “There she goes.”
“I’m—” you started, then stopped. Because unfortunately your brain had ceased functioning the second both of them looked at you like that.
“Thank you.” You managed finally, voice weirdly high. “I almost didn’t wear this.”
Jaeyun blinked. “Why?”
You gestured vaguely at yourself like that explained everything. “This is…a lot of skin.” You immediately looked down at the floor. “This is why I wear cardigans,” you muttered.
Jaeyun laughed softly. “No, seriously,” he said, still looking at you with that same dangerously warm expression, “you look really pretty.”
You physically short-circuited.
“Okay,” you said quickly, pointing at him. “You can’t just say things like that immediately after I arrive.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” You said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, “I need adjustment time.”
Nicholas burst out laughing. “Adjustment time?” he repeated.
“Yeah.” You defended instantly, “Not everyone’s a social butterfly like you guys.”
Sunghoon nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly valid.”
Euijoo smiled beside you now, placing a protective hand on the small of your back, “I think we’re gonna get a drink before she faints.”
“Excuse me—”
“Great idea!” Jaeyun hopped off the counter, “I’ll come with.”
Getting a drink was number infinity on the list of tasks that required three persons. But hey, who were you to complain? Some sort of pure angel who didn’t thirst over the two boys she tutored?
"Come on." Jaeyun chirped, already weaving through the crowd. "The good stuff's out back, quieter there."
Quieter was an understatement.
He led you through a chaotic kitchen, out a creaking screen door, and into a small, enclosed back porch. It was shrouded in shadows, lit only by a single, buzzing yellow bug light. A large, dented cooler sat against one wall, filled with ice and bottles. The roar of the party was muffled here, reduced to a dull thump. It felt secluded, dare you say intimate.
“See? Much better." Jaeyun said, rummaging in the cooler. "What's your poison, honey?"
You asked for something simple, so that you could hold onto it like a lifeline. As he fished out a hard seltzer and cracked it open, Euijoo leaned against the doorframe, blocking the most obvious exit back to the house.
Handsome motherfucker.
"So," Jaeyun began, handing you the cold can. His tone was light and conversational. "The tutoring's really helping. I think we might not totally bomb the midterm."
"It's all you guys," you said, taking a small sip. "You're doing the work."
"We have a good teacher," Euijoo said from his post. His voice was quiet, but it carried perfectly in the hushed space. "Very…..thorough."
There was a beat of silence, filled only by the distant bass. The air, which had been cool, suddenly felt thick and warm like being covered in sticky honey.
Jaeyun took a swig from his own beer. "Thorough is a good word for it." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. "Like that document you were working on. That was incredibly thorough.”
The can in your hand felt like a block of ice.
The document.
Oh.
Euijoo pushed off the doorframe. He didn't move aggressively, but with a slow, deliberate intent that made your breath catch. He walked towards you, his steps quiet on the wooden planks, until he was standing right in front of you.
Then he lifted an arm, placing his hand flat on the wall just beside your head, leaning in slightly. He wasn't touching you, but he’d effectively caged you in, his body blocking one side, the rough wall of the house at your back.
Jaeyun didn't move from his spot by the cooler, but his watchful gaze was just as potent. He took another slow drink, his eyes never leaving your face.
"No more running, doll," Euijoo said, his voice a low, intimate rumble. The stupid, stupid pet name, here and now, was a weapon, said in that deep and husky voice of his. "We saw our names on it.”
"All of it." Jaeyun added softly.
"So we need you to be truthful with us, doll." Euijoo continued, his free hand coming up to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Was that just a fantasy? Or do you want it to be reality?”
You could lie. You could try to laugh it off. But under the weight of their combined focus—Euijoo's searching gaze and Jaeyun's patient silence—all your defenses shattered. The truth was a living thing in your chest, pounding to get out.
You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. "I do.”
“What was that, doll?” Euijoo said, tightening his grip on your chin, “Speak up, pretty girl.”
“I—” You said, drawing in a shuddering breath, “I want it to be real.”
The words seemed to change the very atmosphere. Euijoo's eyes flared, a hot, satisfied gleam in the dim light. Jaeyun let out a slow, controlled breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Aww, honey. You like us that much?" Jaeyun pressed, needing the final confirmation. You nodded, unable to form more words.
For a long moment, no one moved. Your confession hung in the air like a paper lantern, transforming into a new reality that they were enjoying far too much.
Then, Euijoo’s thumb brushed once, softly, against your jawline before he dropped his hand. He straightened up, removing his arm from the wall, breaking the cage. The sudden lack of his proximity felt like a winter chill.
Jaeyun stepped forward then. He didn't touch you, he simply took your limp hand and wrapped your fingers more securely around the cold can of seltzer you'd almost forgotten you were holding.
"Good," Jaeyun said, his voice strangely gentle. "That's all we wanted to know."
Euijoo gave you one last, unreadable look—a mix of that blazing heat and something softer, almost approving. "Enjoy the party, pretty girl.”
And then, just like that, they turned and walked back through the screen door into the roar of the house, leaving you alone on the quiet, shadowed porch, clutching your drink with trembling hands, your entire world having just been thrillingly upended.
What the actual fuck had just happened?
And why the fuck were your panties so drenched?
________________
Whilst agreeing to come to the party, you had forgotten one very important detail.
You were the world’s most antisocial person who detested crowds with every fibre of her being.
Pushing back into the house had been like diving into a wall of sound and heat. The earlier introductions felt like a distant dream. Now, every shouted conversation, every burst of laughter, every accidental brush against you in the crowded hallway felt like a violation, the bass from the speakers an assault on your sternum.
Anxiety, a cold, slithering thing, began to coil in your stomach, tightening around the lingering heat. You scanned the pulsing mass of bodies for a familiar face—specifically, Yujin. You finally spotted her near the kitchen island, but any hope of rescue died instantly. She was draped over Nicholas’s shoulders, laughing uproariously at something he was shouting, a red plastic cup held aloft in a toast. She was in her element, completely and utterly off-duty as your safety net.
A wave of pure, claustrophobic panic crested over you. You couldn’t breathe. You needed out. Now.
Your feet moved before your brain fully caught up, carrying you on a desperate search through the shifting crowd. You found them—of course—in a slightly quieter corner of the living room, holding court with a small group. Euijoo was leaning against a bookshelf, listening to something Sunghoon was saying with a faint smile. Jaeyun was animatedly telling a story, his hands flying.
You didn’t have the capacity for social grace. You walked right up to them, interrupting the flow. Jaeyun’s story trailed off. You knew you probably looked wild-eyed and pale, a deer caught in a wolf pack’s den.
“I need to go home,” you blurted out, your voice strained over the music. “Now. Can one of you…?” You glanced desperately between Euijoo and Jaeyun, unable to finish the sentence. Take me? Save me?
The easy smiles faded from their faces. Euijoo straightened up, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in your tense posture and your white-knuckled grip on your bag. Jaeyun’s expression shifted from surprise to immediate concern.
“Where’s Yujin?” Jaeyun asked, his voice cutting through the noise.
You just gestured vaguely, miserably, towards the kitchen. “With Nicholas. She’s…..busy.”
Euijoo didn’t ask another question. He simply nodded, a decisive dip of his chin. “I’ll get my keys.” He pushed off the bookshelf.
“I’m coming.” Jaeyun said instantly, already falling into step beside him. He shot an apologetic look at their friends.
Yet another task that did not require three people. Especially when the panties of one of the person’s was wetter than water itself.
Minutes later, you were sliding into the backseat of Euijoo’s clean sedan, Jaeyun got in the passenger side. The moment the doors closed, the cacophony of the party was severed, replaced by an absolute, crushing silence.
The engine purred to life. Euijoo navigated out of the packed street, his eyes fixed on the road. Jaeyun stared out the passenger window. No one spoke.
The silence in the car was thick with everything that had been said and everything that hadn’t. It was louder than the party had been. You sat in the back, curled slightly into the door, watching the streaks of streetlights pass over their profiles—Euijoo’s focused stillness, Jaeyun’s uncharacteristic quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of the engine and the turn signal’s steady, mocking click.
Enjoy the party, he’d said. You were definitely not enjoying the car ride.
The silence stretched through every turn, every stoplight, a suffocating blanket over the three of you. By the time Euijoo pulled into a visitor spot near your dorm, the tension had coiled so tight you felt you might snap. You moved to unbuckle your seatbelt, a mumbled "Thanks for the ride" already forming on your lips.
"Which floor?" Euijoo's voice cut through the quiet, calm and matter-of-fact. He was already turning off the engine.
"Oh, you don't have to—I can get up on my own," you stammered, the idea of them escorting you amplifying your anxiety tenfold.
"It's late." Jaeyun said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he popped his door open. The finality in his voice brooked no protest.
The walk across the dimly lit quad was just as silent as the car ride, their footsteps a synchronized echo behind you. The main lobby was deserted, the fluorescent lights humming overhead. You jabbed the elevator button, wishing for the stairs but knowing your heels—chosen in a moment of foolish, fantasy-inspired bravery—made that impossible.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. The three of you stepped into the mirrored box, and the close quarters made the silence even more profound. As the doors closed, sealing you in, your awareness of your own body became acute, screamingly so.
Your little black dress, which had felt so daring and powerful when you'd put it on, now felt like a trap. The hem was so short, the neckline plunged so deep. In the mirrored walls, you could see everything—the expanse of your thighs, the shadowed curve of your cleavage. And you could see them. You didn't dare look directly, but in the reflection, you caught it.
Jaeyun's gaze, usually so open and bright, was dark and fixed—not on your face, but tracing a slow, deliberate path down your reflected form. Euijoo stood with his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his eyes in the mirror were like lasers, burning with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was staring right at the deep V of your neckline, his expression unreadable but utterly focused. They weren't even trying to hide it. The acknowledgment of your fantasy had stripped away all pretense.
You stared rigidly at the ascending floor numbers, your face flaming, your earlier dampness returning with a vengeance. The elevator seemed to crawl.
Finally, with another merciful ding, the doors opened on your floor. You practically bolted out, the click of your heels on the linoleum too loud in the empty hallway. You led the way to your door, fumbling with your keys, painfully aware of the two presences looming behind you.
You got the door open and stepped across the threshold into the familiar, safe darkness of your dorm. You turned, a hurried "Okay, well, thanks again, goodnigh—" already tumbling out.
But before you could swing the door shut, a hand shot out. Jaeyun’s fingers curled around the edge of the door, not forcefully, but with an undeniable firmness that stopped its motion completely. You looked up, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Euijoo took a single, slow step forward, crossing the threshold to stand just inside your doorway, crowding your personal space. He looked down at you, a faint, cocky smirk playing on his lips—the same smirk you’d imagined a hundred times in your writing. His voice was a low, teasing rumble that vibrated in the small space between you.
“What, doll?” he asked, his eyes glinting with challenge and promise. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
The air in your doorway vanished, replaced by the heat of their presence. They were inside your space, their taller frames casting shadows over you in the dim light from the hallway.
You stumbled back a step, your heels catching on the rug, and they followed, a synchronized unit. Jaeyun released the door, letting it swing shut behind them with a soft, final click. The sound sealed you in with them. The familiar safety of your dorm was instantly transformed into an electrically charged arena.
You were backed against the edge of your desk, with nowhere else to go. Euijoo didn’t touch you, but he stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Jaeyun leaned against the closed door, his arms crossed, watching with a lazy, predatory interest.
“You’re shaking.” Jaeyun observed, his voice soft but clear in the quiet room.
“It’s cold,” you lied, your voice a thin thread.
Euijoo’s smirk deepened. He reached out, not to grab you, but to gently take a strand of your hair between his fingers, rubbing the silky texture.
“Liar.” He murmured, his tone conversational, almost casual. “Pretty little liar. Thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about with the guys you tutor standing right here.”
His words, so blunt, so filthy in their simplicity, sent a jolt straight through you. You whimpered, a tiny, pathetic sound you immediately wished you could take back.
Jaeyun pushed off the door and took a few steps into the room, his gaze sweeping over your cramped space before landing back on you.
“This where you wrote it?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop on the desk behind you. “Where you dreamed up all those pretty little scenes? Where you imagined what we’d feel like?”
Each word was a gentle probe, prying you open. They were talking about your deepest secret like they were discussing the weather, and the casual confidence of it was unraveling you faster than any overt aggression could have.
“I…” you tried, but no other words came.
Euijoo’s finger released your hair and trailed down the side of your neck, a whisper of a touch that made you shudder violently.
“You described it so well, honey,” he continued, his voice dropping to that intimate rumble. “The way you wanted to be touched, the way you wanted to be praised. Damn, almost made it seem real.”
Jaeyun was right in front of you now, standing beside Euijoo, boxing you in completely. “So here’s the question,” Jaeyun said, his eyes locked on yours. He reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “All that imagination…..do you want to see what the reality feels like?”
The question hung there, immense and terrifying. Your fantasy, your secret, was being offered back to you, in flesh and blood and breath. Your mind screamed a dozen warnings, but your body, still humming from the elevator, from their stares, from their filthy, casual words, had only one answer.
You swallowed, your throat dry. “Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible.
“What was that, doll?” Euijoo’s head tilted. “We didn’t quite hear you.”
They were making you say it. They were making you claim it. The humiliation was a fire in your veins, mixing with the desperate want. Oh how pathetically you wanted them.
“Yes,” you said again, your voice trembling but louder.
Jaeyun’s thumb stilled on your cheek. A slow, beautiful smile spread across his face. He glanced at Euijoo, and they shared a look—a look of shared understanding, mutual hunger and triumph.
“Alright then,” Euijoo said, his smirk softening into something devastating. His hand came up to cradle your other cheek, so you were held between them, the center of their dual attention. “Good girl.”
Jaeyun leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s our clever girl,” he murmured, the praise sinking into your soul like a brand. “Now, let’s see how real we can make it for you.”
You always knew that you had a penchant for staying in the clouds, in the solitary heaven you’d created for yourself where everything was perfect and you were perfect and all was rainbows and cupcakes. Daydreaming was such a good way to escape this depressing and dark, real world.
But now?
Reality had never felt like such a fucking dream.
The first thing you registered after that was the solid press of Jaeyun's body against yours. One of his hands found your waist while the other cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his kiss. There was nothing tentative about it—he kissed you like he'd been waiting for permission for weeks, mouth warm and demanding, tongue sliding against yours before you could even think to part your lips.
You made a sound against his mouth, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and he swallowed it whole. His palm slid down from your waist to grip your thigh, hitching your leg up around his hip. Your dress rode up higher, the fabric bunching around your hips as his fingers found bare skin.
"Been thinking about this aaall night, honey," he murmured against your throat, lips trailing down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. “You wore this tiny little thing for us, yeah?” His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, teasing, luxurious. “You’re too damn sweet, baby."
A rustle of movement from across the room reminded you that you weren't alone. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, and found Euijoo settled into the desk chair he'd pulled into the corner. He leaned back, legs spread wide, one hand resting casually on his thigh. His gaze was heavy-lidded, tracking every movement Jaeyun made against you like he was studying something precious.
"Oh please, don't stop on my account," Euijoo said, his voice low and smooth. A small smile curved his lips. "I'm enjoying the show, doll."
Heat flooded your cheeks, but before you could formulate a response, Jaeyun's fingers found your cunt through the damp fabric of your panties. Your breath hitched, head falling back against the wall. He pressed two fingers against you, rubbing slow circles over the soaked cotton, and you felt yourself clench around nothing.
"Already this wet?" Jaeyun's voice was husky with surprise and satisfaction. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, letting them fall to your ankles. "God, you've been hiding this from us all this time, haven't you? Sweet little girl, so quiet and proper—"
His words dissolved into a groan as he dipped his fingers between your folds, finding you slick and ready. He circled your clit once, testing, and your whole body jolted like an electric shock.
"That's it," he breathed. "That's it, honey."
Jaeyun worked you open slowly, one finger sliding inside, then two, curling and pressing until you were gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. The stretch was delicious, the pressure building low in your belly as he pumped his fingers in and out, his thumb pressing against your clit in rhythm.
Euijoo watched unmoving, but you saw the way his hand tightened on his thigh, the way his jaw tensed—when your breathing turned ragged, when your hips started rolling forward to meet Jaeyun's hand, he spoke.
"Look at him, doll. Look at what he's doing to you."
Your eyes found his across the room—dark, intense, focused entirely on you. The eye contact sent a thrill straight through you, and your walls fluttered around Jaeyun's fingers.
"You gonna cum for him?" Euijoo's voice dropped lower. "Let him feel it."
Jaeyun pressed harder, palm grinding against your clit as his fingers curled deep, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "That's it, honey. Let go—I've got you."
The orgasm hit you like a wave breaking, sudden and immense. Your back arched off the wall, a cry tearing from your throat as your body seized and shuddered around his hand.
It was nothing like the careful, solitary orgasm you'd given yourself in this very room before—this was devastating, all-consuming, pulling you under and leaving you gasping for air.
"Fuck….” Jaeyun muttered, watching you come apart against him. "Look at you. Fucking beautiful."
Before you could catch your breath, strong hands were lifting you. Perhaps it was under the stupor of your newfound pleasure that you didn't even notice Euijoo crossing the room, his arms sliding under your knees and back as he carried you the few steps to your bed. He laid you down gently, the mattress dipping under your weight.
“My turn?” He said, and it wasn't a question.
Euijoo settled between your thighs, pushing your dress up past your hips until you were bare to him, glistening and sensitive.
Jaeyun moved to the head of the bed, propping himself against the wall, one hand reaching down to brush the hair from your face.
Euijoo's first touch was a kiss—soft, almost reverent, pressed to the inside of your thigh. Then another, higher; then his tongue, flat and warm, sliding through your folds from bottom to top.
You whimpered, hips bucking, oversensitive from your first orgasm. But Euijoo held you down with firm hands on your thighs, anchoring you as he worked you open with his mouth.
"Easy, doll.” Euijoo murmured against your cunt, and the vibration made you gasp. "We're not done yet."
He ate you like a man starving, tongue circling your clit, dipping inside you, lapping up every drop of wetness. He found a rhythm—long, slow licks that built pressure deep in your core, punctuated by sharp sucks that made your vision white out.
His nose pressed against your clit as his tongue fucked into you, and you heard yourself begging, words falling out of your mouth without permission.
"Please, please, please—"
"One more," Euijoo said, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his chin slick, his eyes dark with hunger. "Give me one more, doll. I know you have it." He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked, two fingers sliding into you, curling in that same devastating spot Jaeyun had found.
The combination was too much, exactly enough—your second orgasm crashed over you like a thunderstorm, harder and deeper than the first, ripping a scream from your throat that echoed off the dorm room walls.
Euijoo didn't stop—riding you through it, tongue gentle now, lapping at your sensitive flesh until you were twitching and moaning, your hands fisting in the sheets. Only then did he crawl up the bed, his lips and chin glistening, and press a kiss to your forehead.
"There she is," he whispered, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized you'd shed. "Perfect little thing."
Your body was a trembling sea of aftershocks, floating in a haze of endorphins and praise. Euijoo’s gentle kiss on your forehead felt so sweet and searing. You could feel him shift beside you on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress.
From the other side, a low, appreciative chuckle broke through the heavy silence. You turned your head to see Jaeyun. His own need was evident in the tight line of his jaw and the heat in his eyes. He was leaning against your headboard, having shed his shirt at some point you couldn’t remember.
“Look at her.” Jaeyun said, his voice rough. He reached out, his fingers tracing a path from your knee up your inner thigh, a touch that was both an angelic caress and a possessive claim. “Absolutely ruined. And we’ve barely even started, baby.”
Euijoo propped himself up on an elbow beside you, his gaze moving from your dazed face down your splayed, spent body. “She took it so well, didn’t she?” he mused, his tone one of proud admiration. “Just like she wrote she would.” He chuckled, “Our smart girl, yeah?”
The reminder of your own words, of the script they were now following, sent a fresh, dizzying thrill through you. You were living your own story.
And fuck did the line where reality and fiction blend feel like taking nectar in your tongue.
Jaeyun’s hand slid higher, his thumb brushing through the wetness Euijoo had left behind. You jolted at the contact, still impossibly sensitive. “Think she’s ready for more?” he asked Euijoo, though his eyes never left yours.
Euijoo’s hand came to rest on your stomach, a warm, heavy weight. He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear. “That’s the question, honey,” he murmured, the petname a velvet command. “You gave us two beautiful, perfect little gifts. But we’re not done, are we?”
He pulled back to look at you, waiting for an answer. Your mind was foggy, your body pliant and humming. All you could do was shake your head weakly. Not done at all.
Jaeyun’s smile was sharp as he moved, swinging his legs off the bed to stand. You heard the soft sound of his belt buckle clinking, “Good.” He said, his voice dropping into a deeper register. “Because we’ve been sharing you so nicely, I think it’s time you felt what that’s really like.”
Euijoo pressed another kiss to your temple before moving as well. He sat up, his back against the wall, and patted his thigh. “Come here, doll. Let’s get you comfortable.”
With trembling limbs, you let him guide you, pulling you up to straddle his lap, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you securely against him. From this vantage point, you watched Jaeyun finish undressing, the intent in his movements clear and devastating.
“Remember what you wrote about sharing, clever girl?” Euijoo whispered into your hair, his hands smoothing over your hips. “About being ours?” You could only nod, your breath catching as Jaeyun approached the bed, his gaze burning into you.
“Time to make it real,” Jaeyun said, his voice a soft rumble as he kneeled on the mattress before you. He reached out, tilting your chin up with a finger. “You’re doing so well. Just keep being good for us.”
The shift in position was fluid, almost choreographed—Jaeyun guiding you onto your side, his body molding against your front as his arm wrapped around your waist. His chest was warm against your back, or rather, your front against his, and you felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh through his jeans. Behind you, the mattress dipped as Euijoo settled in, the heat of his body sealing against your spine.
"Comfortable, doll?" Euijoo's breath ghosted over the back of your neck, and you shivered, nodding weakly.
Jaeyun's hand slid down your stomach, fingers grazing your hypersensitive clit, making you jolt. "She's more than comfortable," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "She's perfect. Ready for us, honey?"
Before you could answer, Euijoo's hand found your hip, guiding your leg back, opening you up to him. You felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick folds, not entering, just teasing, sliding through your wetness. At the same time, Jaeyun aligned himself with your entrance, his tip nudging against your opening. You never knew the both of them to be so mean, but fuckkkk did it feel so good.
"Who do you think will make her cum first?" Euijoo's voice was low, his lips brushing your ear.
Jaeyun chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. "She's already cum twice from my fingers and your mouth. But inside? I think I've got this one, baby."
"Bet." Euijoo said, and before you could process the word, he pushed inside you in one slow, steady thrust.
The sound you made was broken, a high keen that turned into a gasp as Jaeyun entered you at the same time, filling your other hole with equal slowness. For a moment, you were suspended between them, stretched so fucking full in both ways, the sensation overwhelming—too much and not enough, a perfect, aching fullness that made your eyes roll back back back.
"Oh—fuck! nghhh…” you heard yourself whimper, your voice thin and wrecked. You felt like a sinner in church and an angel roaming Eden all at once. But what thoughts were even required when both of their cocks inside you had your brain going quiet for once?
"That's it, honey." Jaeyun breathed, his forehead pressing against yours. His hips were still, letting you adjust, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your waist. "Take your time. We've got you."
Behind you, Euijoo let out a low groan, his fingers digging into your hip. "Fucking hell doll, you're so tight. Squeezing me like you were made for this."
“She is made for this, yeah?” Jaeyun said, his warm breath tickling your skin.
They stayed still for a long moment, letting you feel the stretch, the heat, the weight of both of them buried inside you like roots in earth. Your breath came in ragged pants, your body trembling between them; the fullness was maddening, a deep pressure that made your head spin.
Then Jaeyun moved, pulling back out halfway and thrusting back in, a slow stroke that had your mouth falling open. Euijoo followed his rhythm, withdrawing and pushing back in counterpoint—one sliding out as the other slid in, creating a continuous wave of sensation that built with every movement.
"Oh, oh, oh—" The sounds fell from your lips unbidden, broken and desperate, a lamb on the altar begging to have her pretty throat be marked red.
"Listen to her," Euijoo muttered, his pace quickening. "Listen to those pretty sounds. She's been so quiet all semester, and now look at her."
Jaeyun's hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat on his brow. "Yeah, honey. Let us hear you. Let everyone in the hall hear what we're doing to you."
They fell into a punishing rhythm, each driving into you with increasing urgency. It wasn't gentle—it was rough, demanding, but the way Jaeyun kept brushing the hair from your face, the way Euijoo pressed open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder—fuck for a moment, it made you feel like they actually cared.
"Who's gonna make you cum first, baby?" Euijoo growled, his pace quickening. His hand slid around your hip, fingers finding your clit and pressing hard. "Me or him?"
Jaeyun answered by driving deeper, hitting a spot that made you cry out. "Her pussy's squeezing me like she's close. Come on, honey, cum for me. Beat him to it."
The competition spurred them both, each trying to outdo the other—Jaeyun fucking you harder, Euijoo's fingers working your clit faster, their words blurring into a stream of praise and encouragement. You were caught between them, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as they used your body for their race. And you did not give a single fuck about anything else at that moment.
"Fuck, she's clenching around me," Jaeyun groaned. "She's close, she's so close—"
"Cum for us, doll," Euijoo demanded, his thrusts growing sloppy. "Cum with me. Now."
Your orgasm cracked through you like lightning, sudden and violent, tearing a scream from your throat that was muffled by Jaeyun's mouth crashing against yours. Your body convulsed between them, waves of pleasure ripping through you as your walls clamped down around both of them.
"That's it, that's it, fuck—" Jaeyun's hips stuttered, and you felt him spill inside you, hot and thick, his groan swallowed by the kiss.
Behind you, Euijoo followed, his body tensing as he buried himself deep, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he came. His hand never stopped pressing against your clit, riding you through the aftershocks until you were sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body limp and trembling.
When it was over, the only sounds were heavy breathing and your quiet, hiccupping sobs. Euijoo pulled out gently, collapsing behind you, while Jaeyun eased out with a wince, his hand immediately coming up to wipe the tears from your face.
"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice soft now, all the roughness gone. "You okay, honey? Was that too much?"
You shook your head, unable to form words, tears still leaking from your eyes. Euijoo's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, sandwiching you between them.
“Yeah she’s alright. Just sore yeah?” Euijoo said, his lips pressing to the back of your head. "That means we did our job right."
Jaeyun laughed, a breathless, satisfied sound, and pressed a kiss to your nose. "Told you she was perfect. Look at her, pretty little thing.”
You lay there, cocooned between their bodies, the warmth of them surrounding you as the tears dried on your cheeks and your breathing slowly steadied. Nothing in your life had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever come close.
And you knew that nothing ever would for the foreseeable future.
__________________
Three days.
Three days of aching muscles, of tender reminders every time you shifted in your chair or climbed the stairs to your dorm. A delicious, secret soreness that made you blush whenever you remembered its source.
You’d missed Intro to Psych on Monday, texting your professor a vague excuse about a migraine. An hour later, there was a soft knock on your door. It was Jaeyun, holding a neatly bound set of notes and a small white pastry box from the expensive French bakery downtown.
“Compliments of the house,” he’d said, his smile easy but his eyes holding a familiar, knowing heat. “Euijoo sends his regrets. He’s…tied up with family.”
Inside the box were two perfect, flaky pain au chocolat. The apology was unspoken but clear, and it made your stomach flutter. They’d wrecked you, and then they’d brought you pastries. The absurd domesticity of it was almost more overwhelming than the night itself.
Now, it’s Wednesday afternoon. You’re in the library, tucked into a secluded carrel on the third floor, the quiet hum of study around you. The scent of old paper and lemon-scented wood polish filled the air. Biology 201 notes were spread before you, but they might as well be hieroglyphics.
Because Jaeyun was here.
Euijoo, true to his word, was at a family function so it was just you and Jaeyun. He’d suggested the library with a perfectly straight face, citing the need for a “distraction-free environment.” The irony was a breathing thing between you.
He was sitting right beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours whenever he turned a page. For the first twenty minutes, he was the picture of academic focus, explaining enzymatic pathways with his usual patient clarity. But then his hand, which had been resting on the table, found its way to the back of your chair. As always.
His fingers began to play with the ends of your hair, idly twisting a strand around his index finger. The touch was casual, almost absent-minded, but it sent a jolt of awareness straight down your spine. You tried to focus on the diagram of a mitochondria.
“You’re not following,” he murmured, his voice low so as not to carry in the quiet library.
“I am.” You whispered back, your eyes glued to the page.
“Mmhmm.” His fingers left your hair and for a second, you thought you were safe. Then his hand dropped below the solid wood of the table, out of sight of any wandering eyes, coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. Of course it had to be the one day you wore a skirt.
Jaeyun didn’t move for a long moment, just let his hand sit there; then his fingers began to stroke a gentle, up-and-down caress along the inner seam of your jeans—a chaste touch through the thick fabric.
“Jaeyun…” You breathed out, a desperate, quiet plea.
“Shh,” he hushed you, his face the picture of scholarly concentration as he looked at your textbook. His hand slid higher, his thumb now pressing in a slow circle against the sensitive muscle of your inner thigh.
You whimpered, the sound swallowed by the vast, quiet room. The words were blurring, all you could feel was the relentless stroke of his hand, moving steadily higher.
Jaeyun leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, his breath warm. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” he whispered, the words a secret just for you. His fingers reached the juncture of your thighs and pressed, a firm pressure.
Your whispered "yes" was barely audible, but Jaeyun's eyes darkened with something that made your stomach flip. He closed your textbook with a soft thud, slid it into his bag, and stood, extending his hand to you.
"Come on.” He said, his voice calm and collected, as if he asked you to follow him to the library's storage room every day. Not like you would have minded if he asked everyday.
You took his hand, your legs unsteady as he led you through the maze of shelves until you reached a narrow door tucked between two towering bookcases. He pushed it open, revealing a small storage area—old filing cabinets, boxes and a single dim bulb casting weak light over the cramped space. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the world outside ceased to exist.
Jaeyun turned to face you, backing you against the wall until your shoulders pressed against the cold metal of a filing cabinet. His hands found your waist, gripping the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric in his fists.
"You've never done this before, have you, honey?" He asked, but it wasn't really a question. His thumb traced your lower lip, pressing slightly. You shook your head, heat flooding your cheeks.
“That’s ok, I’ll teach you, hmm?” He smiled, a soft, almost tender expression that contrasted sharply with the hunger in his eyes. "Just do exactly what I say, and you'll be perfect."
Jaeyun guided you down, his hands gentle but firm on your shoulders until you were kneeling on the dusty floor, the cold tile seeping through the fabric of your skirt. He stood over you, tall and imposing, and you watched as his hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with slow movements.
"Open your mouth," he instructed, his voice low.
You obeyed, parting your lips. He pulled himself free, his cock already hard and straining, the tip brushing against your lower lip. The taste of salt and skin hit your tongue before you'd even taken him in.
"Good girl.” He breathed, and then he fed himself into your mouth, one slow inch at a time.
The sensation was overwhelming—the weight of him on your tongue, the stretch of your lips around his girth, the musky taste of him flooding your senses. Your hands flew up to grip his thighs for balance, and you felt the muscles jump under your fingers.
"That's it…fuckkk…” He groaned, his head falling back. "Just like that. Let me feel that pretty mouth."
His hand found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, and he began to guide you, setting a slow rhythm that had you bobbing your head against his hips. You tried to relax your throat, to take him deeper, but the instinct to gag fought against your willingness.
"You can take more," he murmured, his voice strained now, losing its composed edge. "Relax your throat for me.” You tried, focusing on the instruction, and when you managed to take him a little deeper, his whiny groan was your reward.
"Fuck yes…ohhhh..” Jaeyun hissed, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're doing so well, baby. So fucking perfect on your knees."
His hips began to move, a shallow thrust that pushed him deeper into your throat, and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you struggled to accommodate him. But the taste of his approval, the sound of his voice breaking for you—it drove you forward, made you want to be better, want to make him feel as good as he made you feel.
"Close.” He panted, his rhythm faltering. "I'm so close, honey. Where do you want it?" You couldn't answer with your mouth full, but you looked up at him, eyes wet and pleading, and he seemed to understand.
Jaeyun pulled out abruptly, his hand moving to stroke himself twice, three times, before he spilled across your lips and cheeks—hot, thick ropes of cum that painted your skin. The sight of you, kneeling before him with his release marking your face, made him groan again, his chest heaving.
"Fuck.” He breathed, staring down at you. "That's the prettiest thing I've ever seen." He crouched down, using his thumb to wipe a stripe of cum from your cheek and bring it to your lips. "Taste it," he instructed. You parted your lips and let him feed it to you, the bitter taste filling your mouth.
"One more," he said, his voice already thick with renewed arousal. "You can give me one more, can't you?"
You nodded, your throat raw but eager, wanting to feel him in your mouth again and again again. Cock drunk slut, you thought to yourself. Jaeyun smiled, a sharp, possessive curl of his lips, and guided your mouth back to him. He was already hardening again, sensitive and swollen, but he didn't hesitate to push himself past your lips.
This time, he was less patient, less gentle. You’d learn your lesson, time to put it to the test right? His hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your throat with shallow thrusts. Each push made you gag, tears streaming down your cheeks, but the noises he made—the desperate, whiny gasps that fell from his lips like angelic choruses—were worth every second of discomfort.
"Fuck, your mouth is—hah—so good…”groaned, his hips stuttering. "Such a good little cocksucker. Taking it so well for me."
Your hands clutched at his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he used you, chasing his second release with single-minded focus. The sounds you made were wet, obscene, gurgling around his length, and the shame of it only made the heat between your thighs burn hotter.
"Look at me," he demanded. You forced your tear-blurred eyes up to meet his. "Watch me cum for you again."
And then he was spilling down your throat, hot and thick, a broken moan tearing from his lips as he emptied himself into your mouth. He held you there, his cock twitching against your tongue, until the last wave passed.
When he finally pulled out, you slumped forward, your forehead pressing against his thigh, chest heaving as you gasped for air. Your throat burned, your jaw ached, and your face was a mess of tears, drool, and cum.
But when he crouched down, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the mess with gentle thumbs, you felt nothing but a warm, glowing gratitude.
And also the urge to do this a hundred times over.
_____________
It really seemed to be a sort of schedule at this point—a ritual of horniness even.
If Jaeyun got you coffee one day, Euijoo would get it for you the next day. If Euijoo fixed the ribbon in your hair in the morning, Jaeyun would brush dust off your shoulder in the evening.
So if Jaeyun had taught you how to use those pretty little lips of yours, Euijoo had to teach you something too?
Which is how you ended up in the situation you were in.
To be fair, it had been fairly Jaeyun’s fault. After all, nobody told him to get crap drunk and pass out in the middle of the day, completely forgetting the fact that they’d invited you over to the frat building for tutoring in view of your usual library being closed.
So after being invited in by Jungwon and being told to wait in the kitchen while Euijoo came back from class (he’d also told you all about his pet cactus in the meanwhile before Fuma dragged him off by the collar of his shirt), you were finally sitting in his. Alone. With him. Yeah, completely survivable situation.
It was neater than you’d expected—books arranged by subject and color on a shelf, a single succulent thriving on the windowsill, the scent of clean laundry and his cologne—something crisp and subtle with a hint of sandalwood. The door was closed, muffling the distant sounds of a video game and shouting from elsewhere in the house.
You’d set up at his small desk, your biology textbook open to a chapter you were not interested in. Euijoo had pulled his desk chair right beside yours, his arm brushing yours as he leaned over the page.
For the first fifteen minutes, it was productive. He was nodding along to all your explanations, tracing his fingers over the particularly harder sections and chuckling whenever you made some ridiculous analogy to explain. But then his gaze, always so careful and respectful, drifted.
It landed on the V-neck of your shirt, on the sliver of skin and the hint of lace-edged cleavage the dip of the fabric revealed. Had you worn this top on purpose? Of course not. But with the way your inner thighs were heating up at the moment, the way you were sitting, the subtle arch of your back—it all felt like a swan dance to seduce him.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just…..looked. His pen, which had been tapping a rhythm on the page, stilled. The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing thicker and warmer.
“This is a complex system,” You said, trying not to let your voice waver. His finger came to trace a line on the textbook, but his eyes lifted to yours as you continued. His gaze dropped back to your chest, lingering.
“Explain it again?” He asked, though his eyes never seemed to go to the actual words on the page. Euijoo’s voice was so rough and low pitched now, practically a growl that your breath hitched.
He reached out then, not for you, but for the pencil cup on his desk, selecting a pen, his movements slow. As he pulled his hand back, the back of his knuckles grazed the upper swell of your breast, just above your shirt’s neckline. The touch was fleeting, accidental in its choreography but devastating in its effect. A bolt of pure, liquid heat shot straight to your core. You flinched, a tiny, involuntary jump.
A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. He went back to the textbook, pointing at a paragraph, “Can we do this again?”
But you couldn’t even answer him. He shifted in his chair, turning his body more towards you, his knee pressing against yours under the desk, “I don’t think I get this part, principle of concentration or whatever.”
Euijoo was looking at your mouth, then your eyes, then back at the revealing dip of your shirt. The academic pretense was a thin, shimmering veil now, and you were both watching it dissolve.
The scent of him—that clean sandalwood and something uniquely, essentially Euijoo—enveloped you. His hand came up again, but this time there was no pretense of reaching for a pen. His fingertips brushed the column of your throat, then drifted down, skimming the sensitive skin just above the neckline of your shirt. You stopped breathing.
“Euijoo,” you managed, a weak protest that sounded more like a plea.
“Yes, doll?” he asked innocently, his fingers pausing, his thumb now stroking a hypnotic little circle on your collarbone. “What is it?”
This handsome asshole.
“You know, Jaeyun told me something interesting.” He leaned in even closer, his lips beside your ear.
His breath was warm. “Taught you how to use that pretty little mouth, hmm?” He murmured, the words a soft, sinful secret. “I think it’s my turn to teach you something else, don’t you think darling?”
His hand finally slipped past the barrier of your shirt, his palm curving over the lace of your bra, cupping you fully. You gasped, arching into the touch despite yourself.
Euijoo hummed, a sound of deep approval. His thumb found your nipple through the lace and rubbed, slow and firm. “Learning pretty quick, aren’t you doll?”
So that was how you’d ended up in the position you were currently in. Sitting comfortably on his lean waist, while his hands gripped your hips as he looked up at you with a look of worship in his eyes. Like you’d become his new deity to shower praise upon.
The offer had slipped out so casually, like he was asking if you wanted another cup of coffee. “Let’s take some of that stress off, yeah?” Euijoo had said, his voice low and steady, eyes fixed on yours with that intense focus. Your mouth had gone dry, but you'd nodded before your brain could catch up with your body.
Now here you were, perched on his waist, his bed creaking softly beneath the two of you. He'd stripped off his shirt somewhere between the desk and the mattress, leaving him in just a loose pair of grey sweats that did nothing to hide how much he wanted you. His hands found your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above the waistband of your skirt.
"You're so pretty," he breathed, looking up at you like you were something sacred. "God, look at you. Sitting on me like you own me." Your hands braced against his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath warm skin. His heart was racing—you could feel it hammering against your palms.
"You need to take this off, doll.” Euijoo said, fingers hooking into the hem of your pink shirt. "Can't teach you properly with it in the way."
You let him pull it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him without a second glance. His eyes dropped to your chest, and the sharp inhale he took made heat pool low in your belly.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Can I touch them, pretty?"
You nodded, and his hands were on you instantly, cupping the weight of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. His thumbs traced over your nipples, already hard and sensitive, and you gasped at the contact.
"Please…" you managed, the word barely a whisper.
Euijoo's fingers found the clasp of your bra with practiced ease, and soon the garment joined your shirt on the floor. The cool air hit your bare skin for half a second before his mouth was on you, lips wrapping around one nipple while his hand worked the other. You cried out, your hips bucking forward against his stomach. The pressure was perfect, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak while his thumb rolled the other between his fingers.
"That's it," he murmured against your skin, switching to give the other breast the same attention. "God, your tits are perfect. Been thinking about them all week."
"How long?" you gasped, fingers threading through his hair.
"Since the first time you wore that pretty little pink top," he admitted, lips trailing up your chest to your collarbone. "Couldn't focus on a single thing you said.”
You should have been embarrassed, but the confession only made you wetter, made you grind down against his hard length with more desperation. The friction through his sweats was maddening, not nearly enough. Euijoo's hands guided your movements, showing you how to rock your hips against him, how to find a rhythm that made his eyes roll back.
"Feel that? Feel what you do to me, doll?" he asked, voice strained. "You nodded, focusing on the motion, on the way his cock pressed against you through the layers of clothing. It wasn't enough, you needed more.
"I want—" you started, but the words caught in your throat.
"I know what you want," he said softly, his hands sliding down to grip your ass. "But you have to ask nicely, baby.”
Heat flooded your cheeks, but the ache between your thighs overpowered any shyness. "I want you inside me. Please, Euijoo."
"Yeah?" His voice was thick, almost reverent. "You wanna ride me, sweet girl?”
"Yes, please, please—"
The sudden tightening of his hands settled on your hips told you everything you needed to know. Jealous, jealous Euijoo, how dare Jaeyun have you alone before him? His thumbs pressed into the jut of your hip bones, grounding you, holding you steady as you hovered above him.
"Then take what's yours," he breathed, the words barely a whisper but he heard them.
Your fingers, trembling with need, fumbled for the waistband of his grey sweats. The fabric was soft, worn, and the simple intimacy of undressing him like this sent another jolt of heat through you. He didn't help, just watched you with heavy-lidded intensity, his chest rising and falling in a quickened rhythm.
You hooked your thumbs under the elastic and the thin cotton of his boxers beneath, pushing them down in one urgent motion. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already leaking at the tip, straining upwards against his stomach. The sight stole the air from your lungs, he was so painfully and beautifully hard for you.
"Look at you," Euijoo murmured, his voice rough with awe and impatience. "So pretty for me.”
"Slow," he instructed, his voice low and controlled, nothing like the breathless, whiny sounds Jaeyun had made in the library. Euijoo was so very attractively calm. "Lower yourself onto me slowly, doll.”
You positioned yourself, the blunt, hot head of him nudging against your soaked entrance. A shuddering breath escaped you. You already felt so full in a way that felt like coming home. Your hands braced against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. You whined high as you sank down, inch by inch, the stretch of him filling you in a slow, burning glide that made your vision blur. His fingers tightened on your hips, a sharp inhale escaping through his nose.
"Good girl…" he breathed. "Just like that. Take all of me."
When you were fully seated, his pelvis flush against yours, you stilled, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He was so deep inside you, hitting a spot that made your thighs tremble. He let you adjust, his thumbs stroking soothing circles into your skin.
"Now," he said, his voice patient, almost gentle, "roll your hips baby, take it slow.”
You tried, moving your hips in an awkward circle, and his hands guided you, showing you the rhythm. His grip was firm, correcting your angle, tilting your pelvis until the motion felt natural. The friction was maddening, his cock dragging against your walls with every slow rotation.
"There," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. "You're learning so well doll."
Then his hands were on your skin, cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, teasing passes. "Beautiful," he said, almost to himself.
You moaned, your rhythm faltering as pleasure spiked through you. He pinched lightly, rolling the hardened peaks between his fingers, and your hips stuttered, grinding down harder against him.
"No," he corrected, his grip on your breast tightening just enough to make you gasp. "Don't change the pace. You can feel good and still follow instructions like a good doll."
You nodded, biting your lip, forcing your hips to return to that slow, rolling grind. He rewarded you by bowing forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue against the sensitive bud made you cry out, your fingers threading through his hair as he sucked and laved at your skin.
His hands never stopped moving. One stayed at your breast, kneading and squeezing, while the other slid down your side, gripping your ass to help guide your movements. His mouth switched to your other nipple, giving it the same attention, and you felt the coil tightening in your belly, hot and insistent.
"Euijoo…." you whimpered, your voice breaking.
"Not yet," he said, pulling back, his lips glistening. He looked up at you, his eyes sharp and focused. "I want you to cum with me. Can you do that, baby?" You nodded, desperate, willing to do anything he asked. "Then keep riding me. Just like this. Don't speed up."
The minutes stretched into an eternity of sensation—his hands on your breasts, pinching and teasing, the slow, torturous grind of your hips, the feeling of him buried so deep inside you that you couldn't tell where he ended and you began. The pleasure built in waves, each one higher than the last, until you were trembling on the edge, your breath coming in sobbing gasps.
"Now," he said, his voice strained, finally losing its composure. "Cum for me."
And you did. Your orgasm crashed through you, your back arching, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your walls clenched around him. He followed immediately, his hips bucking up into you as he spilled inside you, his groan low and guttural, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises.
You collapsed forward, your forehead pressing against his, both of you breathing hard, sharing the same air. His hands softened, sliding up your back, holding you close as you trembled through the aftershocks.
Well there went another three days of losing all motor function in your legs.
And you were still going to ask him for another round.
_________________
It was almost funny how fast two months had passed by.
Perhaps it felt like that because now, every other day you were being filled to the brim by either one of them or both of them at the same time. And to be honest, you were too thoroughly, blissfully fucked-out to even think about asking the infamous ‘what are we’ question. The answer, in every touch and whispered praise, felt obvious: you were theirs. Their perfect girl.
The proof was in your grades. The final biology exam results had been posted, and you’d passed with flying colors, a crisp ‘A’ gleaming beside your student ID. The more surprising—or perhaps not surprising at all—revelation was that Euijoo and Jaeyun had also scored remarkably high. Jaeyun, who’d claimed to be “barely passing” before, had landed a solid A. Euijoo, predictably, had aced it with an A+. They’d celebrated your collective success that night in Euijoo’s room, their congratulations taking a deeply physical and profoundly satisfying form.
But that had been a week ago. A long, torturous, dry week.
How rude.
Since turning in their final projects, both of them had become suddenly, maddeningly busy with “end-of-semester logistics” for their frat. Brief, distracted texts, apologies muttered through yawns when you saw them in passing, a peck on the cheek that felt brotherly at this point—it was infuriating. The constant, humming attention you’d grown addicted to had vanished, leaving you twitchy and empty.
You were frustrated, more than frustrated—you were a live wire of neglected need. And tonight, they were throwing a party to mark the end of exams. Revenge, you decided, was a dish best served looking utterly devastating.
That was why you were standing in front of your full-length mirror, critically examining your reflection. The dress was baby pink, a shade so innocent it bordered on absurd. The fabric was soft and clingy in a way that left exactly nothing to the imagination.
It was shockingly short, the hem brushing mid-thigh only if you stood perfectly still. The neckline was a deep, sweetheart cut that showcased the swell of your breasts, and the back? The back was practically non-existent, a few strings holding it together. You’d paired it with the highest, most precarious strappy heels you owned.
You looked like a confection, a delicious, bite-sized, walking sweet cherry pie.
A slow, determined smile spread across your lips. Let them be “busy.” Let them try to have a meeting, organize a party, do anything at all while you walked in looking like this. You knew their tells—the way Jaeyun’s jaw would tighten, the way Euijoo’s eyes would darken and track your every move like a predator. You were going to remind them exactly what they’d been neglecting. And you were going to make them beg to fix their mistake.
With a final, satisfied nod at your reflection, you grabbed your small clutch. The party was just starting and it was time to make an entrance.
______________
“You’re going to spill your drink.”
“I’m going to light this house on fire.”
The bass from the sound system pulsed through the floorboards of the frat house, a physical thrum in the air. The party was in full, chaotic swing—bodies packed tight, laughter spilling over the music, the sharp tang of cheap beer and sweat cutting through the usual scent of pine cleaner and boyish neglect.
You’d made your entrance. A ripple had gone through the crowd near the door when you walked in, a subtle shift in attention you felt like a physical touch.
You’d caught sight of Jaeyun first, over by the keg, laughing with a couple of his brothers. His eyes had found you, and the laugh died on his lips. His gaze had traveled from your face, down the scandalous plunge of your neckline, over the sinful shortness of your skirt, all the way to your treacherous heels. His expression had shifted from surprise to something hot and intense, his grip tightening on his red plastic cup.
Euijoo had been beside him, leaning against the wall, looking effortlessly cool in a black tee. His reaction was quieter, but no less potent. His eyes had narrowed, his head tilting slightly as he took you in, a slow, unreadable mask settling over his features. You’d given them a small, breezy smile—a mere flick of acknowledgment—and then deliberately turned away, melting into the crowd without a word.
That had been twenty minutes ago. Now, you were on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, the space cleared of furniture.
And you were dancing with Fuma, his hands respectfully placed on your waist as you moved to the beat. You were leaning in close to hear him over the music, laughing at something he said, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder. You knew exactly how you looked: the pink fabric clinging to every curve, the dim light catching the sheen of your skin, your head thrown back in a laugh that was just for him.
From across the room, near the archway to the kitchen, two pairs of eyes were burning holes into you.
“You’re going to spill your drink,” Euijoo said flatly, his voice barely audible over the music. He wasn’t looking at Jaeyun; his gaze was locked on the way Fuma’s thumb was stroking a tiny, infuriating circle on the bare skin of your waist.
Jaeyun didn’t even glance at his cup. His knuckles were white around it. “I’m going to light this house on fire.”
Euijoo finally tore his eyes away, cutting a sharp look at his friend. “She didn’t even say hello. Walked in here looking like…..like that,” he hissed, “and didn’t even come over.”
“She saw us,” Jaeyun growled. “She looked right at me and smiled like I was a fucking stranger.”
He took a savage gulp of his beer, his eyes tracking your every move. The way your dress rode up when you swayed, the flash of your thigh, the way the neckline threatened to spill its contents with every bounce. He was so hard it was painful, a relentless ache that had started the second you walked in and was now a throbbing, jealous fury.
It was Fuma. Fuma who had always been their anchor in a storm, older and widely respected in the frat, someone that the both of them leaned on when things got too hard. But right now? All that stuff was going down the drain just at the sight of him pressed so close to you. The memory of Fuma being the one to tell them about you first was also hurting like a bitch.
Euijoo watched as you whispered something in Fuma’s ear, saw the other man’s smile widen, a possessive snarl threatened in Euijoo’s chest. That was his ear to whisper into. His girl to make smile like that. “She’s doing this on purpose.”
“No shit,” Jaeyun spat. “A week of nothing, and now this?” He gestured violently with his cup towards you. “This is a fucking declaration of war.”
They both watched, helpless and seething, as Fuma leaned down to say something else, his lips too close to your hair. Your resulting laugh was bright and clear, a sound that used to be reserved for them in the quiet of a dorm room.
Euijoo’s jaw was clenched so tight it ached. The sight of you in that dress, on another man’s arm, moving with a confidence they’d coaxed out of you themselves…it was the most potent aphrodisiac and the most bitter poison he’d ever tasted. He wanted to tear you away from Fuma, throw you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs. He wanted to ruin you in that dress, mark every inch of skin it revealed so everyone would know exactly who you belonged to.
“She wants a reaction,” Euijoo said, his voice low and deadly calm.
Jaeyun’s smile was all sharp edges. “Oh, she’s gonna get one.”
___________
Any protest you might have mustered died in your throat, swallowed by the heady thrill of their focused, furious energy. They’d descended on you and Fuma like a pair of storms, their polite-but-icy smiles belying the fire in their eyes.
A few terse words to a bewildered Fuma, a “she’s with us” that brooked no argument, and you were extracted from the dance floor and ushered through the chaotic party, up to the familiar sanctuary of their room.
The door clicked shut, sealing you in the sudden, profound quiet. The only sound was the ragged pull of three sets of lungs.
Now, you sat perched on the edge of Euijoo’s neatly made bed, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, doing your best impression of indifference. Your lower lip was pushed out in a defiant pout, your eyes wide and attempting to project wounded innocence, though the fire in them probably betrayed you. Your dress which had felt like armour downstairs, now felt flimsy and exposing under the twin spotlights of their gaze.
Jaeyun and Euijoo stood side-by-side at the foot of the bed, a study in contrasting, coiled tension. Jaeyun’s earlier rage had condensed into a smoldering intensity, his eyes dark and hungry as they raked over you. Euijoo was deceptively still, his expression unreadable, but the air around him crackled with possessive intent.
For a long moment, they just looked at you, their gazes traveling over your defiant posture, the exposed length of your legs, the rise and fall of your chest.
“Well,” Jaeyun drawled, "Look who decided to join the party.” His voice was a low, rough scrape that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “And dressed for the occasion too.”
Euijoo’s lips quirked in a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Such sudden bravery, doll,” he murmured, taking a slow step closer. His gaze lingered on the desperate clutch of your arms over your chest, on the way the dress’s neckline strained with the motion. “Parading yourself downstairs, letting just anyone put their hands on you.” He tsked softly, “Real bold, sweetheart.”
Jaeyun’s smile was wolfish. He took a step closer, his eyes tracing the neckline of your dress. “You knew exactly what you were doing in that dress, didn’t you honey?”
You lifted your chin, refusing to answer, but a flush crept up your neck. Fuck why did they have to look like five course meals?
“Of course she did,” Euijoo answered for you, his tone almost conversational. He took a step to match Jaeyun, closing the distance. “Bet you wanted every man in that room to look at you didn’t you, pretty girl?” His voice dropped, filling with a raw, appreciative hunger. “But you know who you belong to hmm?” The praise, wrapped in sheer possessiveness, made your traitorous body hum.
You swallowed, the defiance in your posture softening into something more pliant under the heat of their combined stares. “I… I was just—”
“Just what, honey?" Jaeyun cut in, his voice deceptively soft. He was close enough now that you could smell the clean scent of his soap and the faint, lingering hint of beer. “Just reminding us what we’ve been missing?” He reached out, a single finger tracing the fluttering pulse at the base of your throat. “Trust me. We didn’t need a reminder. We’ve been thinking about you every damn second.”
Euijoo’s hand joined Jaeyun’s, his fingers gently but firmly prying one of your arms away from your chest. He laced his fingers with yours, pulling your hand down to rest on the rumpled duvet. The implication was clear, and a fresh wave of liquid heat pooled low in your belly. Your pout was gone, replaced by parted lips and breath that was coming a little too fast.
Jaeyun watched the transformation, a dark satisfaction in his eyes. “Since you were so…..creative with your little display tonight,” he said, his thumb stroking your captive hand, “we thought we’d get a little creative too.”
Euijoo’s free hand went to the pocket of his dark jeans. He pulled out a rectangular box, wrapped in simple matte black paper. “A little gift,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “From both of us.”
Your eyes widened, flicking between the box and his face. A gift? Now?
Agonizingly slowly, he unwrapped it, letting the paper fall to the floor. Nestled inside against a bed of black velvet was a vibrator. It was sleek, elegant and a soft, shimmering shade of pink that somehow perfectly matched your dress.
“Saw it last week,” Jaeyun explained, his gaze fixed on your reaction as he began to unbutton his own shirt, his movements lazy and deliberate, “Thought you’d like it, our little slut.”
Euijoo picked it up, his fingers curling around it familiarly. With a soft click, it hummed to life, a low, steady buzz that seemed to vibrate in the very air of the room. He held it up, the pink silicone catching the dim light. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he mused. “Just like you.”
As the persistent hum filled the silence, Jaeyun finally closed the last of the distance. He leaned over you, caging you against the headboard, and captured your mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. It was all tongue and teeth and a week’s worth of pent-up frustration, and you melted into it with a helpless whimper. His hands went to your dress, sliding it down your body.
“Let’s get you out of this, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “We’ve admired it long enough.”
Euijoo had you spread out on his bed in a matter of seconds, the vibrator humming against his palm as he watched you squirm around. God how horny was your brain? To not even have noticed the way they were handling you between them like a toy.
"Look at you," he murmured, running the buzzing tip along your inner thigh, avoiding where you needed it most. "So needy already. And we've barely started."
You whimpered, your hips twitching, trying to chase the sensation. He clicked his tongue, pressing the vibrator flat against your thigh, holding it there until you stilled.
"No." He said, his voice patient but firm. "You don't get to decide when you feel good. I do."
He finally pressed the head of the vibrator against your clit, and you gasped, your back arching off the mattress. The sensation was sharp and immediate, pleasure flooding through you in waves. But just as you felt the familiar tightening in your belly, he pulled it away.
"No!" you whined, the sound pitiful and desperate, “Euijoooo….”
"Shhh," he soothed, trailing the toy down your stomach, over your hip, circling your navel. "You'll get there, doll. But not yet."
He did it again and again and again—pressing the vibrator against your clit, letting the pleasure build until you were teetering on the edge, then pulling it away. Each time, your body would shudder, your breath hitching, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
"Please," you begged, your voice breaking.
"Please what, doll?" He tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "Please let you cum? But you haven't earned it yet, have you?”
Your hands fisted in the sheets, your hips grinding against nothing. The room was filled with the wet sound of your arousal and the low hum of the vibrator, and you felt completely at his mercy.
After what felt like an eternity of teasing, Euijoo finally set the vibrator aside. He gripped your hips, pulling you toward him until you were sitting up, and then guided you onto his lap at the edge of the bed. His cock was hard beneath you, pressed against your ass, but he made no move to enter you.
"Good girl," he murmured, his hands settling on your waist. "Now stay."
You heard movement, and then Jaeyun was there, dropping to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you with that hungry, worshipful expression, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing them apart.
"Jaeyun's going to make you feel good," Euijoo said against your ear, his breath warm. "And this time, you're going to let go. You're going to cum all over his face. Understand?" You nodded, your throat (and pussy) tight.
Jaeyun leaned in, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, then the other. His tongue traced a slow path upward, and when he finally reached your folds, you cried out, your hips bucking forward. He didn't waste time—his tongue lapped at you, broad and flat, then focused on your clit, flicking and circling with practiced precision.
"Oh, god…." you gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the strands, “Jaeyun! Fuck ohhhh…” Fuck it was like he’d mastered the art of female oral pleasure for centuries—the way he was eating you like a starved god.
Behind you, Euijoo’s hands roamed your body, pinching your nipples, sliding down your stomach, gripping your hips to hold you steady. "That's it, doll. Let him eat you—bet you taste soooo good for him, don't you?"
Jaeyun moaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your core. He devoured you, his tongue sliding inside you, then back to your clit, alternating between sucking and licking until you were a trembling mess.
The pleasure built faster this time, without the torturous pauses, but it was overwhelming, too much and not enough. You felt the pressure mounting, coiling tight in your lower belly, and you knew this time it would be different.
"Ju…" you sobbed, "Ju, I'm—I'm going to—"
"Let go," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Cum for him, doll. Let it all go."
And you did. Your orgasm crashed through you like a wave, your body arching, a guttural cry tearing from your throat. But it didn't stop—it kept building, pushing past the peak, and you felt the release of something more, a hot gush of liquid that spilled from you as you shuddered and moaned.
Jaeyun didn't pull away. He drank it all, his tongue working through your climax, lapping at you as you squirted over his chin, his lips, his tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he didn't stop, coaxing every last drop from you until you were limp, gasping, your body trembling uncontrollably.
Euijoo’s arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest, pressing kisses to your shoulder. "Such a good girl," he whispered. "You did so well."
Jaeyun finally pulled back, his face glistening, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but his eyes never left yours.
“So fucking sweet, pretty girl." He said, his voice husky, “Sweet like honey, yeah?”
You were too spent to respond, your head falling back against Euijoo’s shoulder, your body humming with aftershocks. They held you between them, warm and possessive, and for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the soft hum of the vibrator Euijoo had discarded on the bed.
You heard the rustle of fabric, then felt his hands on your ass cheeks, spreading them wide, cool air kissing your exposed holes.
“Round two, pretty girl?”
The words were fleeting in your ears, neither of them had the patience to wait for your answer. You asked yourself that question again: just how orgasm-drunk were you that you didn’t even protest the change in position? It was a matter of minutes before you found yourself in the position you were in.
Did you really give a fuck? Nope—all you wanted was for your wet little pussy to be filled by her usual favourites.
The bed creaked beneath you as Euijoo positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips while you hovered over Jaeyun’s cock. Your thighs trembled, slick and ready, as Jaeyun’s hands found your waist, guiding you down.
"That's it, honey," Jaeyun breathed, his eyes locked on yours as you sank onto him, inch by inch. "Taking me so well."
A choked gasp escaped your lips as he filled you completely, the sensation spreading through your core, stretching you in a way that made your vision blur. Before you could adjust, Euijoo’s hands spread your cheeks, and you felt the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your ass.
"You think you can take us both, doll?" His voice was low, dripping with challenge. "Or are you going to break on us?" You nodded, words failing you, your fingers digging into Jaeyun’s shoulders for support.
"Use your words," Euijoo said, slapping your ass hard enough to make you jolt. "I want to hear you say it."
"Yes," you gasped, your voice cracking. "Please, I can—I can take it."
Euijoo pushed in slowly, the pressure building until it became a dull, overwhelming ache, then a sharp fullness that made you cry out. Your body clenched around both of them, the dual intrusion too much and exactly what you needed.
"Fuckkkkk" Jaeyun groaned beneath you, his head falling back. "She's so fucking—hah—tight. Squeezing me like she's trying to milk me dry, yeah?”
"Because she's such a desperate little slut," Euijoo said, his voice softening into something almost affectionate, wildly in contrast to his words. "Aren't you, honey? Can't get enough of us filling you up."
You whimpered, your hips starting to move on instinct, rocking back against Euijoo while grinding down on Jaeyun. The rhythm came naturally, the three of you finding a pace that had your breath hitching and your body shaking.
Euijoo’s thrusts were so damn deep, each one hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. Jaeyun met your movements from below, his hands gripping your waist, his hips snapping up to meet yours. They set a punishing rhythm, alternating their thrusts so that one was always filling you while the other pulled back, a mean oscillation.
"Look at her…." Euijoo said, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back. "Riding you like a good girl, taking my cock in her ass like she was made for it."
"Made for us," Jaeyun corrected, his voice strained, his eyes burning into yours. "Perfect little cocksleeve for both of us."
The pleasure built, coiling low in your belly, your moans turning into broken sobs as they fucked you from both ends. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation overwhelming, consuming.
"Please," you begged, not knowing what you were asking for. "Please, I'm—I'm going to—"
"Not yet," Euijoo said, slowing his thrusts, denying you the friction you craved. "You don't cum until we say you can."
Jaeyun followed his lead, stilling beneath you, leaving you suspended on the edge. A frustrated whine tore from your throat, your hips grinding uselessly against them.
"Please," you tried again, tears pricking at your eyes. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need, doll." Euijoo’s voice was softer now, almost gentle. "You need to be good for us first. Can you do that? Be our good girl?" You nodded frantically, desperation clawing at your chest.
"Then cum for us," Jaeyun said, his hands sliding up your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. "Let go, honey. Let us feel you."
They started moving again, faster now, harder, driving into you with a relentless pace that had you seeing stars. The pleasure hit you like a wave, crashing over you as your first orgasm tore through your body. You cried out, your back arching, your walls clenching around them.
"Fuck, yes….." Euijoo groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "That's it pretty girl, oh fuckkk squeezing me so good fuck…”
But they didn't stop. They kept fucking you through your climax, the overstimulation pushing you higher, building toward something even more intense.
"One more," Jaeyun commanded, his voice rough, breathless. "Give us one more, baby. I know you can."
"Please nghhh—I can’t " you sobbed, your body trembling, every nerve on fire. "I can't—"
"You can.” Euijoo said, his hand sliding down your stomach, his fingers finding your clit. "And you will."
He pressed down, circling the sensitive nub as they fucked you, and the second orgasm hit you before you could brace yourself. It ripped through you, harder and deeper than the first, your vision going white as you screamed, your body convulsing around them.
"Fuck—" Jaeyun's voice cracked as he came, his hips bucking, his cum flooding you. Euijoo followed a moment later, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he spilled inside your ass, his grip on your hips bruising.
The three of you collapsed together, tangled and breathless, your bodies slick with sweat and cum. Euijoo pulled out slowly, kissing your shoulder, while Jaeyun traced lazy patterns on your thighs.
"So fucking perfect," Jaeyun murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.
"You did so well, doll." Euijoo added, his hand carding through your hair.
You couldn't respond, your body humming with aftershocks, your mind blissfully blank. They held you between them, warm and possessive, and for a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the steady beat of their hearts against your skin.
Somewhere between the border of sleep (“Is she sleeping?” “Should we change her clothes or..?”), you had a fleeting thought.
You were happy. Really happy.
Because somewhere along the way, the fear disappeared entirely—you stopped overthinking every text before sending it, stopped panicking when they touched your shoulder casually or leaned too close over your notes, stopped feeling like the quiet girl hidden in the second row of lectures. Somehow, without you noticing, the lonely little world you’d built around yourself had cracked open.
And standing in the middle of it were two boys who brought you coffee, listened to your rambling biology explanations, made you laugh when you forgot how, and looked at you like you were someone worth knowing. And fucked you crazy stupid too of course.
The months you thought would destroy you had ended up changing your life instead.
Funny how that worked.
Cause fuck were you into it.
fin.
A/N: this is one of those fics where i genuinely felt myself lock in HARD and lowkey felt much melancholy when i finished it like this fic is my child ykwim. Never in my life did i think I'd ever write four smut scenes in one singular fic but hey my biases made me do it yay. Shoutout to Jaeyun and Euijoo edits for getting me through the hell of writing threesomes i will now go be their fucktoy byeee
divider by @honeyluvsw
@eu1joo @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @antonh0lic @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added! @berrybittynetwork my beloveds
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."
“Suspect is 6’4, dressed in black, and is… in rut..?”
Ej in rut. I hope yall enjoy! I know I sure did :) (post crack. Bliss chat. Bliss.)
- Crazy feral, obviously.
- Claws always out, scratch marks on the walls, furniture, his face… your hips…
- His scent..? Fucking everywhere bro. It’s heavy in the air. Hard to breathe as you stumble towards him.
- As soon as you reach him, he’s pouncing. Snarls and growls subduing into soft whines in your neck and then morphing right back into the sounds you can only describe as animalistic.
- It don’t matter what you were wearing. Ripped. Torn. Obliterated.
- Bites that break skin, claws that tear at your hips and back, dick that re-arranges your insides. And don’t get me started on those tongues.
- Once he gets even a lick of your blood? Absolutely frenzy.
- Hours literally turn into days with this beast of a man. The lack of windows in his basement don’t help. The creeps know any medical help is essentially ruled out during the week. Some even pity you.
- The term “you can’t walk after” is an understatement. Breathing hurts. If his “cum” (same black that leaks from his eyes) was even remotely fertile? Endless babies. Too bad it’s not. Makes it so he’s never truly satiated.
- Too bad..! Guess it’s time for round… you’ve lost count.
- That’s all for now :) I hope u guys liked. There’s more coming soon!
mdni !! note. this is my first post on this blog, let me know if there is anything on here that you would like me to expand upon <3
yudai
this is a man who knows what he's doing. i picture him as being very sensual and attuned to what his partner wants and needs. he reads your body like an open book, none of the sounds or faces you make go unnoticed by him. which means that even for your first time together, he needs mere minutes to have you coming undone for him.
he's a gentleman. he takes things slow at first, and he always makes sure you're comfortable with everything happening. his hands are gentle with you, his kisses reverent. he has very good self-control and only deepens things when he's sure it's alright with you. and even once he's got that confirmation, he's checking in and treating you with the utmost care. maybe to the point that you become frustrated—and while, your first few times, he gives you what you want when you ask for it, after some time, he becomes such a tease. dragging things on for even longer, roaming his hands over your body without ever touching you where you need him most, smirking as you squirm and whine beneath him, saying things like, "is my baby getting impatient?" he definitely gets you to beg for him, although he can never refuse you for very long. he just likes to see you get riled up because of him.
i feel like he's not overly freaked out—he sees sex as an opportunity to connect with his partner on a deeper level, to show them how much he loves and desires them. probably likes those classic romantic vibes—rose petals, candles, massages as foreplay, holding your hands and looking into your eyes during missionary. very much husband material. he might get a little rougher once in a while, if he has steam to blow off from work perhaps, and you tell him it's okay to let it out on you. but with the right partner? he'd definitely get a bit more exploratory. if kink was your thing, he'd want to try it, just because he wants to please you as best he can. i feel like seeing you enjoy yourself would be enough for him to be into something. and he might discover a few of his own kinks that way as well...
fuma
princess treatment!!!! he is such a gentleman when you guys are in your flirting, getting-to-know-each-other phase, so respectful, so aware of whatever boundaries you might have, and that doesn't stop when you find yourselves in bed. for the first few times at least. i think he'd want to show you how well he can take care of you, and when he deems you're ready for it... you might be blindsided by a completely new side of him.
he always naturally takes the lead, and you gladly give control over to him. but gradually, praise turns into taunts, he gets cocky, and even a little mean, if he's feeling a certain way. his goal is to get you all flustered and even more pliant, and boy does it work. you'd let this man do whatever he wants to you. i think sex with him would be very intense, both physically and emotionally, although there'd be more relaxed moments, like during lazy mornings or after a tiring day at work. but when he's working with his usual energy levels, he has you coming over and over again, manhandling you into whichever position he wants, all while whispering filth directly into your ear. the more dishevelled you get, the prouder he is of himself. he'll have you babbling incoherently, tears running down your cheeks, either from edging or overstimulation—depends on the night. you can't get enough, and he knows that.
he's back to being a gentleman afterwards, stroking your hair and gazing lovingly into your eyes as if he wasn't just telling you how good you looked taking his cock minutes prior.
nicholas
i need to take a deep breath before this. okay. we've reached freak central. first of all he cannot get his hands off of you, which goes for your relationship in general, but is so so true during sex. your hair, face, wrists, hands, chest, waist, hips, thighs, ass... you name it. he always has to be touching you, he loves the feeling of your skin. and he would love it if you were as handsy as him—he'd take it as a sign that you want him as bad as he wants you. you are 100% the exception to his never-touch-my-hair rule. he loves it when you pull at the strands, when your nails graze his scalp. he loves your nails in general—please scratch this man and mark him up all you want. he'll go feral finding hickeys and scratch marks in the mirror the next day, as long as they're in places he can hide.
i feel like sex is always different with him. depending on both of your moods, it can be playful and light-hearted, slow and intimate, intense and desperate, or straight-up feral. he likes to try new things, and while i think he leans on the dominant side, he can and will adapt to what you like. definitely like yudai in that he's into you, which means he's into whatever you're into. if you want him to choke you out while pounding ruthlessly into you, he'll do it. if you want to tie his hands behind his back and edge him until he's begging you to let him come, he'll do it. he probably has the mentality of trying everything at least once, and just doesn't want things to get repetitive or boring.
he has the craziest stamina. he can go for round after round, and if his schedule permits it, he'll probably wake you up in the middle of the night to do it again, and once (or twice) more in the morning. more often than not, if you have plans to go out during the day, you have to cancel them—or cut them short and go home when he gets that look in his eyes. he probably gets very chatty and likes to make you shy with his words, telling you how pretty you are and how good your pussy feels around him in the same breath. oh and when he gets really into it and isn't thinking quite straight he for sure talks to you in mandarin, not even realizing you can't understand him (if you don't speak the language). AND he goes crazy when you say his name—bonus points if you call him yixiang in a really shaky, really desperate tone, like you're about to burst any second.
euijoo
he is SO soft with you. treats you like you're the most delicate thing in the world, until he feels too good and absent-mindedly presses his fingers deep into your skin, or ruts his hips into you harshly. the oncoming orgasm always clouds his thoughts but once he's regained his clarity, he's apologizing profusely and making sure you're okay and holding you close to him. even when you tell him you like this sharper side of him, he gets worried he's hurt you. he'll gladly spend hours getting you off without thinking of himself, but when he's inside you, or when your lips are wrapped around him, he quickly loses himself in the feeling. has the prettiest whimpers and moans you've ever heard. he grabs tightly onto whichever part of you he can reach—your hair, your hips—and sighs your name right as he comes, almost sounding like he's in pain. you could come from the sound alone yourself, along with the sight of him—eyes screwed shut, plump lips, cheeks flushed red.
it'd take him a while to not just figure out what he's into, but open to you about it. i think there are certain occasions during which he might be more dominant—if he got jealous over something, or if something happened at work and he needed to let his frustration out. but most of the time, he's more comfortable letting you take charge. he has so many responsibilities and so much pressure on his shoulders as not only an idol but a leader, and having someone take care of him after a long day at work is the easiest way for him to relax and forget about his worries. the feeling of your hands on him is the most effective therapy—if you tell him how good of a job he's doing, he'll be putty in your hands. yes this is sub and praise kink euijoo agenda. he probably likes sex to be soft and intimate, but wouldn't say no if you wanted to be harder on him once in a while... feel free to order him around.
yuma
second stop at freak central. he is already so playful and likes to tease you in the first stages of your relationship, and this doesn't stop when you're in bed together. i think he's an even more mischievous version of nicholas—likes to see you all shy and flustered because of him, likes to make you cry his name out, likes to feel you holding tightly onto his shoulders while he's eating you out or fucking into you, and is not shy to let you know. will praise and degrade you in the same sentence. will imitate your moans afterwards. will play with you for ages before properly fucking you, just to hear you beg. will slow down his thrusts when he feels you getting close just to get you to lose your mind a little bit. he probably likes when you cuss him out as a result. he loves you, and yet he acts like he wants to get you to hate him when you have sex. he knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going.
now hear me out... brat tamer yuma. he would love a partner that isn't afraid to fight back. he would love having to wrestle to get you to relinquish control, and he would especially love putting you in your place when you try to tease him or get the upper hand. he'd let you live in delusion for a little while—sure, you can ride him and tell him to "shut the fuck up" for a bit if it makes you happy. but he'll always remind you eventually that he can flip you over with disconcerting ease and have you coming all over his cock in a matter of minutes if he wants to. the look on your face as you stop fighting the overwhelming pleasure he's providing you and finally hand yourself over to him is priceless every single time. he never lasts very long after that.
jo
this sweet little angel. if yuma is nicholas but worse, jo is euijoo but somehow even shyer and softer. i don't think he has a dominant bone in his body, but i don't think he's even submissive—he's just not that interested in power dynamics, in making sex into a game. it's probably something he'd only do with someone he felt very safe and in love with, someone he'd trust enough to show this side of him to. and because his emotions are so mixed up in it, it's probably a very intense, almost overwhelming experience to him, especially in the beginning, but even months into your relationship. i just feel like he's very very sensitive and he loses a little bit of sanity not just being on the receiving end of so much attention, but having access to such a vulnerable part of you, too.
he wants to do so well for you. the first time, he overcomes his shyness and asks you how to do things, if he's touching you properly, if you feel good. he studies your face intently and feels himself teetering close to the edge when he realizes you're coming from his fingers alone, even if you're not touching him at all. he can't handle things like mutual masturbation—the moment your hands are on him, he can't focus on anything else, and to him, your pleasure comes first, always. his hands probably shake as he rips open the condom wrapper. he's so quiet the first few times, only letting out a strangled moan when he comes, but when you urge him to make more noise and he starts to grow less self-conscious, you are blessed with his pretty moans and gasps and grunts. he can only keep his eyes for so long—not only is the pleasure too overwhelming, but the sight of your hands wrapped around his cock, or of your face right front of his, is also way too much for him to handle. eventually he might grow more confident, might become more open to trying out new things. but be patient with him—if he's a goner when you so much as graze your nails along his lower stomach, how can you expect him to handle much more?
in which you and your boyfriend, euijoo, get into a fight and you try to win the best way you know how. or - the one where you give euijoo the best head of his life.
wc: 3k | notes: smut (don't like it? don't read it), some brief arguing, blow job, pussy eating, raw sex, euijoo gets rough and dominant, daddy kink, minors do not interact!
Euijoo never yelled. What he did was much worse. He cut you to pieces in the calmest, coldest voice you'd ever heard.
"Just because I handle things differently, doesn't mean I'm wrong," he snapped, striding across the living room to grab his jacket.
You were right on his tail, determined to win this argument if it killed you. "I'm just trying to make your life easier," you countered, putting your hands on your hips.
Euijoo whipped around, his tone dropping, and leered over you. "No," he said slowly. "You're trying to control me."
You opened your mouth to deny it, but Euijoo didn't give you the chance.
"And I'm not with you to make my life easier. Believe me. You are the hardest job I've ever had."
Your eyes went wide in disbelief. "I'm a job now? Me? The one taking your dick on the regular?"
"That's the one perk to putting up with your constant nagging of how I'm not doing what you want me to do," Euijoo shot back, not amused.
Planting your feet, you folded your arms and seethed, "I think you should sleep in your studio then."
"Gladly," Euijoo retorted, snatching his keys and marching toward the front door.
You followed him step for step, making sure you got that last word in. "And you can fuck yourself on your microphone. It won't nag you like I do, but it won't suck all the cum out of you either."
"Maybe I will." Euijoo gave you one last scathing glare and slipped out the door, slamming it shut behind him and making a loud bang echo through the house.
You stood there, staring at the door. Waiting and hoping for him to come back inside. Was that it? Had your relationship just totally collapsed?
"What the fuck is wrong with me?" You chided yourself over and over. Why was winning the argument so important? More than having a conversation with Euijoo and hearing him out?
You just didn't like how much he let slide. You wanted him to stick up for himself at work more. But Euijoo liked to handle things diplomatically, and slowly. You didn't have that kind of patience and you hated knowing his bosses at the company pushed him around.
Just because I handle things differently, doesn't mean I'm wrong. You mulled on that, because he was absolutely right and the more you thought about it, the more you felt bad for how you'd spoken to him in the heat of the moment.
However, calling you a job was over the line, and you were already plotting your revenge accordingly.
So you waltzed into your closet and found the sluttiest outfit you owned: a black lace dress that hugged your every curve. You paired it with thigh-high stockings and the tall red bottom heels Euijoo had gifted you. Spritzing on the perfume Euijoo loved most, you donned a heavy coat to hide what was underneath and left the quiet house.
You were totally unsurprised when you saw Euijoo's car parked outside the studio; the only one in the lot. Using the back entrance, typing in the code you knew by heart, the click of your heels echoed down the hall.
When you opened the door to the studio most used by your boyfriend, you were expecting to find him working on another song. Instead, you saw Euijoo sitting at the table, his fingers at his brow like he was exhausted and stressed.
Euijoo drew a deep breath, anticipating another fight, and sighed, "What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologize," you said softly, and in an instant you had Euijoo's undivided attention. You continued, "I was wrong. You're allowed to handle things how you see fit. I just get frustrated with how you're treated here sometimes."
Euijoo arched a brow.
You held up a finger and added, "I'm not making excuses. I'm just trying to explain my reaction."
"I appreciate the apology. Thank you," Euijoo said with a tenderness that surprised you.
Standing there, knowing what was beneath your coat, the room filled with tension. You stared him down, put your hands on your hips, and asked, "Is there anything you want to say to me?"
Euijoo cocked his head in amusement. "Did you just offer me an apology to get one back?"
"I don't want an apology from you, Euijoo," you said, unfastening your coat as you slowly approached him. Once it was open, you tossed your coat onto the table, letting Euijoo feast his eyes on your body.
Euijoo scanned you from head-to-toe, biting his lip at what he saw. You knew exactly what his weakness was, and you never were afraid to use it against him. "I can guess what you want," he mumbled under his breath.
"Mm, I don't think you can," you retorted, bracing your hands on his thighs and leaning over, letting him get a front row seat to your cleavage nearly bursting out of the dress. "Of all the things running through your mind right now, you have no idea what's in mine."
"Share with the class." Euijoo gripped the arms of his chair tight. He wanted to grab your breasts, shove them together, and bury his face in them. It would fix all of his problems, but he didn't want to give you the satisfaction.
You reached between his legs and palmed his cock over his jeans, making Euijoo jolt at your touch. "Why do you think I wore thigh highs?" You slowly sank down between his feet, peering up at him hungrily. "I have to protect my knees."
Euijoo swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel it coming - he was going to give you anything and everything you wanted. Watching you put your hair up in a ponytail, neither of you breaking eye contact, Euijoo licked his lips and began unbuckling his pants for you.
When his half-hard cock was in front of your face, you didn't hesitate to lick from base to tip, letting saliva fall from your lips onto his shaft. You were looking at his dick like it was the one thing in the world that would satisfy you and that alone had Euijoo's length standing at attention in no time.
"You kill me," Euijoo sighed, tipping his head back to avoid watching your face. You turned him on so bad, it wasn't fair. How could he stay mad at you when you were always eager to choke on his cock until he emptied himself down your throat?
Knowing exactly the power you had over your boyfriend, you pumped his cock in your fist and sucked at the head, teasing him. Taking a little more of him into your mouth, you sealed your lips around his cock and pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop.
Euijoo dropped his head, looking right at you, his eyes already hooded with lust, his cheeks flushed with warmth.
You laved your tongue around his dick like a good cockslut and batted your lashes, purring, "Show me how you like it."
"You know how I like it," Euijoo said in a dark voice, tangling his fist in your ponytail. Steering your head down, he commanded, "Open up."
Smirking at him taking control like you wanted, you parted your lips and let him guide you down his stiff cock, arching his hips slightly until he was deep in your throat. He shook your head a little, just for some extra punishment, and let you choke on him, drawing you up before pushing you back down again.
Euijoo's other hand slipped over your shoulder, settling at the nape of your neck, more leverage to keep moving you up and down his cock, a wet gag filling the room when the head of him hit your throat. You gasped for breath when you could, tears already tumbling down your cheeks.
"You love this as much as I do," Euijoo growled, angling your head back so he could see your tear-filled eyes, your makeup already smearing. "Fuck, you look so good like this, baby. You love having a throat full of my dick, don't you?"
You nodded as best you could, earning yourself a tiny reprieve when Euijoo pulled you off his cock. You swallowed and stole an extra breath or two, before eagerly settling back into his lap, licking at his dick like it was your favorite treat.
Euijoo tugged on your hair, making you look up at him, and scolded, "Slow down. You don't want me to come too fast, do you?"
You nodded quickly. Nothing made you happier than his thighs shaking underneath you while he spilled down your throat. The sooner, the better.
Chuckling, Euijoo traced your cheek with affection and said, "Alright. You can have your way. This time."
With that, Euijoo got your head in both hands and began fucking his cock into your throat. You kept your grip on his thighs, fisting his pants occasionally, but otherwise you sat like a good girl and let him rut his cock into your mouth, thrusting harder and faster until you got a curt warning that he was finishing.
You swallowed him as your tongue rubbed underneath his dick, your lips sealing around him and your cheeks hollowing out. Sucking as hard as you could, Euijoo howled out a moan; a sound he couldn't fight no matter how hard he tried as you sucked every last drop out of his dick, stars bursting behind his eyes, making them roll back.
When you didn't stop, Euijoo tore you off him, not about to tolerate any overstimulation from you. His fist in your ponytail was brutal and he kept ahold of you, keeping your torturous mouth from his softening cock. You licked at your lips, tasting the salt of your tears and his cum.
Just as you reached up to tentatively wipe your face, Euijoo was on you, hoisting you onto the dashboard of his studio and pinning you back. He was a man on a mission, ripping at your dress, tearing off your soaked panties, and spreading your legs apart to steer them onto his shoulders.
It was your turn to fill the studio with your sounds of pleasure as Euijoo wheeled his chair up to the table and buried his face in your pussy. You clamped your thighs on his head and spread your arms at your sides, your hands bumping against the keys and dials, but you didn't care.
Euijoo was out to return the favor, knowing you were aroused from blowing him. He was never shocked to taste how wet you were after sucking on his cock and he couldn't wait to lap up your juices. When you dug your nails into his fluffy hair and across his scalp, Euijoo groaned into your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit.
"You do that so good, baby," you moaned, eyes lolling at the way he made out with your pussy, kissing and sucking at her like he had nowhere to be anytime soon.
Euijoo bit the inside of your thigh just to make you squeak and then kept going. The taste and scent of you filling his nose and mouth was going to get him hard again in record time. He sank his fingers into your thighs and smirked when you bounced your hips against his face.
A whiny moan spilled out with your breaths and you squirmed under Euijoo, feeling yourself getting dragged closer to the edge. "Yes, Daddy," you whispered, gripping his hair tight. "Like that. Please, don't stop."
Euijoo noticeably slowed, tonguing between your folds and toying with your clit. He felt his dick rising and he was biding his time. The moment he was hard again, he stood up, making you look at him in confusion.
Just as you opened your mouth to question him, Euijoo dragged you off the table and spun you around, bending you over it and getting his hand in your hair again. Your cheek against the cold surface and your ass in the air, you gripped the edges for purchase when you felt his cock entering you in one long, smooth stroke.
"That's it," Euijoo hissed through his teeth, burying himself inside you until he could go no further, groaning at the hot grip of your cunt. "Take all of it. I'm gonna fill you up."
You choked out his name, and your noises that followed were sharp and cut off by his rough thrusts jarring you on the dashboard. You were barely staying balanced on your tiptoes, your hips smacking into the counter's edge every time Euijoo shoved his cock in your pussy.
The hold on your hair was harsh enough, but Euijoo's other hand clamped around your throat like a collar. He kept you in place to endure his vicious strokes, like he was out to fuck you stupid.
You had no dignity to your name when it came to his dick slamming into you to the hilt, and so you begged, "Can I please come?"
Euijoo didn't fall out of rhythm, his eyes focused on where he disappeared inside you, your walls sucking him back in. "Give me a reason," he said, out of breath with his pace.
"That's your pussy," you told him submissively. "Only you can make me come."
Euijoo smirked briefly. That was the right answer.
Thinking you still didn't have him convinced, you whined, "I need to come on your dick. Please. I promise I'll never fight with you again."
"Oh, yes you will. If this is what you get out of it."
You couldn't help but giggle. He wasn't wrong. This was typically how you won every fight with Euijoo. It was hard for him to be mad at you when you were draining him dry.
Euijoo flexed his grip on your hair, still pinning you roughly to the dashboard. He kept snapping his hips into your ass, stuffing his cock balls deep in your cunt, and you took it like a champ. "You're such a good little cockslut," Euijoo sighed, his voice changing as he neared the edge. "Gonna put another load in you."
You almost came from his voice alone. Winding your arms behind your back, overlapping your wrists, making yourself so completely submissive to him he wouldn't be able to deny you, you said, "Make me come with you."
Euijoo groaned and drilled into you, barely getting out, "Come," before he was finishing, the warmth of his release coating your insides.
The moan that tore out of you was cut off at the peak of your orgasm, your lips parted on a silent scream. Your legs bent in the air, your toes curling, but Euijoo was pressed tight up against you, his body keeping you in place.
"Fuck," Euijoo grunted lowly, lingering on the word. He could feel your body clenching and kneading on him, your walls greedily milking every drop out of his dick. He blinked to clear his eyes and then shook his head to get the damp hair off his face, his knuckles aching as he released your ponytail to brush his hands down your waist, grabbing onto your hips and staring where his cock was buried inside you.
You went limp, slumping into the dashboard, both of you still throbbing and shivering. Pretty satisfied with yourself and how your body could fuck him up, you shimmied, making Euijoo hiss at you trying to stimulate his softening cock.
"Don't start," Euijoo chided, but his heart wasn't in it. And he still didn't pull out of you either.
Grinning victoriously, you kicked your feet up, trying to pinch his ass with your toes but he was too fucking tall. "You know no one else in the world could ever make you nut as hard as I do," you taunted, licking your lips.
"Yeah, I know."
You giggled.
Euijoo smoothed his hands up your sides, not stopping until he slipped them under you and palmed your breasts, giving them a squeeze. "This doesn't mean you won," he said darkly. "You got your revenge here. I'm getting mine at home."
Rolling your eyes, not that he could see from his place behind you, you retorted with delight, "Lucky me. I love your punishments."
Euijoo shook his head with a grin. There was no defeating you.
Far from the dregs of modern society and the plight of humanity lay your home. A reclusive–much like you–modest cabin, nestled amidst towering oak trees and far off the main trail. It had taken you a few years to establish your self-sustaining sanctuary, but now it was a thriving homestead.
Vibrant green leaves sprouted up in even rows of dirt beside your house, a few paces away from a fire pit you had dug yourself one Spring evening. You would, of course, travel into town for luxuries like AA batteries and processed chocolate, but your trips became few and far between–eventually optional. You found yourself leaving less and less. You didn’t miss the drone of rush hour traffic, overly congested sidewalks, empty night skies, or ever-climbing prices.
If anything, the quiet felt earned.
As your disdain for your old way of life grew, your want to stay dwindled until you ditched it all and went off the grid.
Everyone assumed you would last a week, perhaps a month, and you hated to admit you had held similar sentiments. The initial move was hard, but once you had set up a decent router and a generator, you became settled much more quickly.
Settled.
That was the word you used, anyway.
The only absence you felt was a social one. As days of silence stretched into weeks, the realization of your isolation became harder to ignore. Your shopping ventures hardly fulfilled your needs, filled with mindless small talk and passing remarks purely for the sake of politeness–and in hopes of earning a tip. The remaining connections of substance you did have all but eroded with the separation, not only physical but emotional as well. Quitting your job all but severed your connection to former coworkers, up and leaving your friends had earned you their ire, and your family was a complicated mess that all but caved in on itself after your decision.
So, there you were. Your best friend may have well been the ground hog that had made itself a home beneath your porch, and your only conversation came from the few and far between hikers in dire need of directions.
They never stayed long, and you never asked them to.
It was, at least, easy to be of service; the criss-crossing of trails was familiar as all of the forests’ odds and ends were second nature. That muscle memory carried you from your cabin and down the steep slope of your backyard.
The grass around you grew slim and short from the limited sunlight that made it through the thick canopy of trees. Sparse green patches faded into smooth pebbles and sandy mud as you closed in on the shallow stream cutting through the woods. It was just deep enough to house small fish with a healthy population of frogs at various stages of life. Because of its frail inhabitants, you avoided fishing there–however, the water did attract a decent amount of other wild animals ripe for hunting.
That wasn’t your particular intention today, instead you were simply scouring the area for any plants you had yet to harvest. So, donning chunky rain boots and worn gloves you began searching. Parting shrubs and shifting stones you were greeted with the expected wriggling earth worms, scurrying ants, and–
Heavy steel-toed boots.
You froze.
Huh?
Before you was a huge pair of work boots, made of worn black leather caked in mud with straps galore. Tucked into them was black cargo pants, plentiful with pockets which were all stuffed full. As if that was not enough storage, a utility belt hung from his waist. In one of the loops a serrated hunting knife caught your eye, stirring some surprise and apprehension.
You hadn’t heard him approach.
Taking a tentative step back for your own safety, you weren’t sure what was more shocking–the appearance of another person or the fact that they were decked out in tactile gear like the world was about to end.
How odd this truly began to set in. How had you not heard anything? Why was he so close?
Your heart rate picked up a bit as you stood up, eyes flitting from his black belt to his black hoodie–
Wow. This guy had a favorite color.
Underneath his baggy sleeves was, you guessed it, black gloves which seemed to be pulled over bandages of some sort. And then–best of all–was a dark blue mask, stained with heavy black tear streaks.
Great. Just great.
You had been discovered by an edgelord with a knife which was basically a would-be serial killer–assuming you were his first victim. If that were the case you were fucked.
For one, he had no discernable features, save for a mess of dark curls peaking out from beneath his hood. And, secondly, he was huge.
The stranger was easily the tallest man you had ever seen, pushing seven feet tall with wide shoulders and a soft stomach.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t shift.
He just…stood there.
“Hello.”
He spoke firmly, his formal voice much smoother than you would have expected.
“Hi…” You croaked out in turn, wishing you had brought a more substantial weapon with you than a spade. Clutching the shovel like a life line you did another rapid once over. He was at least a head taller than you and could probably snap you in half like a twig. Swallowing the lump in your throat you waited anxiously for his response, a bit too scared to prompt him yourself.
“You live near here.”
His choice of words left you dumbfounded. He stated it, like it was a fact–which it was, technically–but how the hell did he know that?
“Yes, I do.” You replied, the words coming out more like a question than an answer.
A hum of understanding left him, a deep rumbling vibrato. He raised his hand stiffly, more like an animatronic than a man. It paused midair, fingers twitching once before settling, pointing at you.
“Food.”
“Yeah…?” What the fuck was wrong with him.
“What do you do for food?” he continued. “Is it…easy to hunt? Have you ever been interrupted?”
The question seemed oddly pointed considering the awkwardness of his wording, but you found yourself answering anyway.
“I grow my own stuff–tomatoes, carrots, easy stuff mostly. It's not the best place to catch anything here” you gestured towards the stream. The stranger simply tilted his head in response. “But uhm, no. If you go after animals it's not like another one is going to stop you from doing it or anything.”
He tensed–subtly, but surely.
Like something in your answer hadn’t aligned with what he expected. “I see. I mean, more so, have you ever been interrupted by people?”
That got a laugh out of you.
Not because it was funny–but because it wasn’t.
“Oh god no–I mean, not really.” You tried to recover, still on edge. “People, like, rarely come through here. Usually just hikers and stuff, so they don’t go off the trail.”
Your explanation seemed to please him this time, earning you an appreciative nod. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, I’m glad I could help.” Your response carried more warmth than before, offering a small smile you hoped he returned beneath his mask.
“Yes.”
He turned to leave, taking a few steps before pausing.
Then–he turned back.
Not at your face, just at you.
“I’ll see you around…”
“I’ll–”
“I’m Jack.”
Taken aback by the awkward interruption, silence fell between you both for a few painful moments.
Then, your laughter broke the tension, easing him to relax his shoulders–just slightly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”
He didn’t respond right away, he just stood there for a second longer than necessary.
Then, without another word, he left.
~~~~~
“Shit.”
You cursed under your breath, seeing that the pale thread had somehow–yet again–worked itself into a nasty knot. Reaching for your seam ripper you tore the string and pulled it from your shirt which, by now, had more holes then before in your repeated attempts to fix it. It seemed that sewing really, really wasn’t your strong suit.
It was early in the evening and although sunlight was fleeting there was very little you had to do outside, so you got some much needed chores out of the way instead. Getting up from your seat to grab a new sewing needle in hopes that would make up for your utter lack of raw skill. Just as you reached the small round table that had become an overgrown junk drawer, you noticed how dark it seemed. Gazing up at the orange glow of the setting sun from a window at the far end of your living room, you knew it should have been brighter outside. Looking to your left towards your front door you jumped for a moment, before sighing in dismay as you saw the culprit.
Jack stood on your porch, peering in through the front window and blocking out most of the light with his massive frame. Today he donned a navy pull over and a black canvas jacket rather than his usual ratty hoodie–he must have been feeling adventurous today.
Waving at your friend through the glass he stiffly returned the gesture, staring a moment too long before you opened the door to greet him.
“Can I help you?” You asked, a joking lilt in your voice. As odd as this was, you had come to learn this was simply how he behaved and you were admittedly glad he had stopped by regardless.
“No.” He deadpanned, closing the distance between you two and getting a bit close to the point where you had to crane your neck to maintain eye contact. Something about it brought a faint flush to your cheeks and suddenly shy, you cleared your throat to urge him on. “I needed to come by.”
“And you didn’t knock because…?”
“You were occupied.”
“Riiight…” You couldn’t help the sass that slipped into your voice, simply rolling your eyes at his peculiar formalities. “Well, if you’re going to watch me, why not just do it from inside the house next time?” You attempted to crack a joke, raising your eyebrows at him expectantly.
“Alright.”
Taking your sarcasm as instruction, he brushed past you with impressive ease and stepped into your living room.
He looked comical, trapped by low ceilings and smaller furniture made to accommodate one normal sized person. Rather than looking at the surroundings he walked to one side until his foot nudged a table, placing a hand on it and feeling the layout of the room's outer edge as he took even steps around the perimeter.
“...Jack?”
“I am mapping it.”
“...Mapping it?”
“Yes.”
Right. Of course he was.
In his exploration you noticed a faint trail of blood at his feet, causing you to lurch away from the door towards him until you realized it was just a rabbit clutched in his free hand.
Well, the remains of a rabbit.
It was very dead–hunted and cleaned, hanging limply in the man’s grasp.
There were no tears or evident damage to its flesh. No uneven edges. Just a clean, precise opening like someone had performed an operation rather than a hunt.
“I didn’t see you this morning.”
“Hm?” you asked, missing almost all of what he said as you focused back in.
“You weren’t by the stream earlier today.”
“Yeah, I–”
“You are there most mornings.”
The statement landed heavier than it should have.
Ah, right. Running into Jack by the river had become…routine. Not something you had planned, not something you had even acknowledged aloud, but something that happened all the same. You would check on your traps, and he would be there. Or he wouldn’t–and then he would be by the time you left.
“Right, sorry about that.” You said, a bit more carefully now. “I usually meet you after I see if I caught anything–”
“I know.”
Right.
You glanced at him, then away.
The obviousness of your explanation left you a bit embarrassed considering you usually passed him with blood stained pants and some collection of dead animals.
“Well, I don’t typically have any luck after it rains and since it did yesterday, I thought I would wait until tomorrow morning.”
“You were gone longer than usual.”
That…was not what you said.
You blinked, stunned for a second, before forcing a small laugh. “Yeah, well–I guess I got mixed up. The days sorta blend together, ya know?”
Your explanation seemed to satisfy him, prompting a small nod. Silence settled again–denser, this time.
Then he stepped forward, almost proudly brandishing the rabbit out to you.
“I brought you meat. I wasn’t sure if you would have anything to eat.”
The sentiment brought a smile to your face, and the realization that he was thinking about you, worrying–well it made your cheeks turn red all over again.
Man since when were you so easy?
Turning away you quickly composed yourself, taking a quick breath and clearing your now busy mind. “Thank you, Jack. That’s very sweet of you.”
He stilled.
Not just paused–stilled.
Like the word was unfamiliar and had caught somewhere it didn’t belong.
“Sweet,” he repeated, quieter now.
“...Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then he held the rabbit out further.
You took a step closer, now only a few inches from him. Your hand hovered for a moment–hesitation flickering–before something in you pushed forwards. Just for a second, you brushed your knuckles over his.
Cold.
Not freezing, not entirely unnatural.
Just cold.
His grip tightened–only slightly–and just for a moment.
But still, enough that you noticed.
You stilled now, and he didn’t let go right away.
Instead, his head dipped–just barely towards you–as if he were staring at the point of contact.
“It's still warm,” he murmured.
A shiver ran down your spine, your breath catching in your throat.
“Yeah.” you said quickly–maybe a bit too quickly–pulling your hand away as you took the rabbit from him. “That’s–uh, that’s kind of how it works.”
He released it immediately, but didn’t move away, simply lingering in silence.
“I’ll make it for dinner–beats having just vegetables and bread.” You turned slightly, trying to busy yourself, trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up for no good reason. “You can stay–only if you want, of course…”
You hesitated, “you know, just like, a thank you.”
There it was, laid out plainly.
The want.
Your home had been empty for far too long.
“...Alright.” He replied simply.
But he didn’t move, not right away at least.
And when you glanced back at him, you realized he wasn’t looking at the rabbit.
He was looking at you.
~~~~~
The news was bullshit, meteorology was a lie, and your weather app clearly had a personal vendetta.
What was supposed to be a brisk fall day with “light showers in the afternoon” had quickly transformed into a torrential downpour early in the morning.
It was just your luck, however, that it had happened to start after you had left without anything to protect you from the elements.
Seriously, the converse you refused to let go of had seen better days and the thin, worn canvas had left you with wet socks and an annoying squish following every step.
The dense foliage above you did little to stop the rain, simply delaying the inevitable; fat droplets of water slipping down leaves and soaking through your clothes one patch at a time.
Once the storm had started, you considered turning back. If you had any animals they would surely still be stuck tomorrow, and any herbs or berries certainly weren’t going anywhere. And yet, you stayed.
Old sneakers sunk into the damp earth with every step, carrying you down a path your body knew better than your brain did. Each day, the same path, the same time, the same—
You slowed.
The same stream came into view through the trees. Its once steady trickle was now a roaring current, moving fast enough that it had consumed the surrounding bank. There were no fish in sight, not a single lingering tadpole, not even an earth worm or two seeking reprieve from the wet soil.
The woods felt…empty.
The only life there was you.
“You’re late.”
You froze.
Turning towards the source of the voice you were unsurprised to see Jack standing there.
He was, of course, eerily still and as tall as ever. His drab clothing—consisting of his usual black cargo pants, but a new dark rain jacket—blended in with the dark atmosphere. His mask which was no longer as disconcerting had become a smeared mess of black…well, whatever that crap was. If he had been more diverse in this choice of clothing, it most likely would have been a stained mess.
He didn’t move closer.
He didn’t wave.
He just watched.
“I—” you let out a short breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I wasn’t planning on coming, I thought about going back when the rain started,” you explained with a soft laugh.
“You always come.”
Well, he was being rather blunt.
He wasn’t accusatory, or upset, or even curious.
Just…certain, if you had to try and place it.
You swallowed.
“That’s not—” you started, then stopped, because arguing felt pointless for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much—or why he did either.
“It rained yesterday,” you tried instead. “I told you I don’t usually check traps after rain.”
“Yes.”
He said it immediately.
Of course he did, of course he remembered something so trivial.
You shifted your weight, shoes squelching slightly in the mud. “So… I’m not late, then…Technically.”
A pause, filled by the dull pitter patter of the rain.
Then—
“You are late.”
Again, he wasn’t arguing per se, just repeating his point. Firmly.
Something in your chest tightened.
“Jack—”
“You are later than usual.”
Ah.
There it was.
You huffed out a breath, shaking your head a little. “Sure…alright. I’ll meet you in the middle, I’m later than usual.”
“I am correct.”
That—unfortunately—made you laugh.
“Don’t test your luck!” You said, a giggle slipping out despite yourself, while he simply cocked his head in response.
“I’m not testing anything.”
Oh wow, had he never heard of sarcasm? Thinking back, you really didn’t think he had. You couldn’t remember a single time he had been sarcastic. Or joking. Or…wrong.
Maybe he was raised Amish or Mormon or something.
The thought of it made you laugh again, cutting through the damp chill settling into your bones. “You’re…you’re something else, Jack.”
He tilted his head and stared in your general direction.
You didn’t think he understood the tone—maybe even the phrase itself—or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.
Another beat passed, filled only by the sound of rain hitting water, slipping from the leaves above and pelting the fabric of both your clothes.
Neither of you moved.
“You’re going to get sick standing out here,” you said finally, gesturing toward him. “You’re soaked.” As if you were one to talk—at least he had on a jacket—but he had seemingly been out here much longer than you.
“No, I won’t.” He didn’t hesitate, but he wasn’t challenging you, he was just overly confident in his immune system.
“And why’s that?”
He paused, taking the time to think for once, “…I have a good diet. Lots of protein. Vitamin C…”
A dry chuckle forced itself past your lips, eyebrows raising in disbelief—obviously you had been mistaken, he did understand a joke.
“Right.”
“Right,” he echoed, slower now, mulling over your response. “You don’t believe me. You should. I’m a doctor.”
“A doctor of what, vitamin deficiencies?”
“No, but, I know I won’t get sick.”
“Uh-huh…” Losing interest in his antics you gazed around; the rain only seemed to be getting heavier. Your hoodie was losing the fight, the cold was settling in deeper now—sharp at your fingertips, creeping up steadily into your arms.
You rubbed at them absentmindedly, only to realize a moment later that Jack seemed to be watching you do so.
“We should move somewhere, get out of the rain…” You peered over your shoulder, briefly considering the walk back. The idea wasn’t particularly appealing—not with your socks soaked through and your shoes heavy with mud.
“Yes,” Jack agreed, offering nothing else.
“There’s a rock overhang, like a cliff thing a bit further up..” you said, nodding upstream, your arms crossed tight across your chest for warmth. “It’s not much, but it’s better than this.”
“Show me.”
He didn’t look where you pointed.
At his instruction you pivoted, making your way along the uneven edge of the stream. It was different then you remembered—the rain had chewed at the bank, reshaped it into something unfamiliar—and it took longer than it should have to find a place narrow enough to cross.
Even then, it was a stretch.
Athleticism failed you at the worst possible moment; your foot slipped on the slick edge, and you pitched forward, barely catching yourself before faceplanting into the mud.
“You tripped,” he dead panned.
“Yeah, well…yeah..” You mutter, pushing yourself up with a wince. The feeling of the mud made you cringe—it was smeared across your palms, your sleeves soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to your skin.
Before you could turn fully, a shadow fell over you.
“Jesus—”
The word caught as you looked up.
Jack was already there.
Too close.
You hadn’t heard him move.
Reaching down, he took your hand. Firm—yet careful. His grip was steady, almost deliberate, as if he’d done this before.
A gloved thumb pressed lightly against the inside of your wrist, lingering just a second too long over your pulse, before sliding down to cup your knuckles. He rotated your wrist slowly, testing the joint with quiet precision, pushing it gently in different directions.
“What are you doing, Jack?”
“Does it hurt?”
He ignored the question entirely, his other hand coming up to brace your forearm—fingers spanning it easily, thumb pressing into muscle like he was mapping something out.
The faint smell of iron flooded your senses which was odd, given that you weren’t bleeding. Jack didn’t seem to be either.
“No, it doesn’t,” you huffed, trying to pull away—
His grip tightened. Not enough to hurt, not in an attempt to pull you back. It was just strong. A warning.
“I told you,” he said evenly. “I’m a doctor.”
You weren’t quite sure how to respond, simply pulling your arm back again—this time he relented and let go. “I’m okay,” you said, brushing uselessly at your sleeves. “Thank you…”
The gratitude felt strange on your tongue.
He only hummed.
The rest of the walk seemed much longer than you remembered, almost painfully so. Maybe it was the slog through the mud.
Or the way you kept adjusting your pace without realizing it.
Or maybe it was him.
You weren’t quite sure what to call Jack.
That uncertainty didn’t help when he started trailing behind you—not beside you, not even a step back, but several paces removed.
Far enough that it didn’t feel like walking together.
Far enough that, if you didn’t know better, it would feel like being stalked, rather than followed.
And yet—
Close enough that you could feel him; his looming presence, his stare bearing into you.
Watching.
You couldn’t quite hear his footsteps, and yet you always knew when he stopped.
You turned, glancing back. “What’s up?”
“You slipped.”
Did you?
You frowned slightly, thinking back. The ground was slick, your shoes useless against the mud. “Uh…yeah, I guess?”
“You shifted your weight to avoid falling,” he said. “Your steps changed.”
“…I mean, yeah. That’s kind of how it works?”
Silence.
He just stood there, staring—not at your face, but lower, like he was watching the way you stood, the way your weight settled into the ground.
Waiting.
For what, you weren’t sure.
You exhaled, a little sharper this time. “Come on, Jack.”
The remainder of the walk was a silent slog, all to something that wasn’t quite worth it.
The overhang wasn’t much.
Just a jut of rock where the earth dipped slightly, enough to block the worst of the rain. You stepped beneath it with a sigh of relief, shaking out your hoodie a little and pushing damp hair from your face.
It took a second to realize he hadn’t followed.
You glanced back.
He stood just outside, letting the rain hit him.
“Jack?”
He just looked at you.
“You can come under here, you know,” you urged. “That was like, the whole point of us coming here.”
“No. I am fine.”
You stared at him for a second, shaking your head in dismay.
He was unbelievable.
Stepping forwards you grabbed his sleeve, “c’mon, get in here you idiot.”
You tugged and, surprisingly, he moved.
There was no resistance—or even allowance—just letting you.
The second he stepped under the overhang, the space shrank considerably; you hadn’t really accounted for how big he was.
Or how little space there was.
“Okay, wow,” you muttered, instinctively stepping back—only to hit the stone almost immediately. “That’s—great. Love that.”
He stood directly in front of you now—too close.
You could feel his breath, the warmth radiating off him, and hear the faint beating of his heart.
And yet, there was no point of contact between the two of you.
But close enough that you could see the individual drops of water clinging to his mask, gathering before falling down in heavy clumps.
And close enough that the faint metallic scent you’d noticed before was stronger now, mixing unpleasantly with wet earth and damp fabric.
Your breath hitched—just slightly.
“Jack, what is that—“
“You are cold.”
Again—not a question, just an observation.
“I’m wet,” you shot back. “That’s kind of how that works.”
There was a tense pause, and then his hand lifted. The movement was slow and deliberate, but still awkward like it had been before.
“May I?”
Your brain stalled and your body stalled.
“…What?”
But he was already closer now—if that was even possible—closing the last of the distance between you two. His chest brushed against yours, his hand hovering just short of your arm.
You could say no, you probably should.
Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and spoke without really thinking.
“…Okay, sure.”
His fingers closed around your wrist–firm and still.
The same as before.
But now—without the muck of mud and the pelting of the storm–you could feel it properly.
No warmth, no give, no subtle pulse. Like a corpse.
He tilted his head, focusing on the contact.
“You are shaking.”
“I’m cold,” you repeated, quieter this time.
His other hand moved, settling—awkwardly, uncertainly—against your sleeve, like he wasn’t entirely sure where it was supposed to go; like he was trying to recreate something he’d seen before.
The space between you disappeared completely, lost to the mingling of your heated breaths and tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
You could feel the shape of him now—solid, unmoving, too still to be natural.
“…Jack.”
“Yes.”
“You’re, uh—” you swallowed, heat creeping up your neck despite everything. “You’re kind of—close.”
“I know.”
That did not help.
At all.
You let out a small, strained laugh, trying to lean back again, still stuck by the unyielding stone behind you. “Right. Of course you do.”
He didn’t move away, didn’t loosen his grip; if anything, his fingers tightened—just slightly.
“Your pulse increased.”
Oh my god.
“Yeah, that tends to happen when people invade other people’s personal space.”
He thought for a moment, “I can let go.”
He was right. He could let go, you could ask him to stop, either of you could move away.
But you didn’t, and neither did he.
“...No.” You finally said softly.
That short answer seemed to appease him.
A heavy silence fell immediately, your gaze shying away from his.
His, however, stayed; unrelenting, just like his grasp.
The rain didn’t let up for a long time.
And–not even for a moment–neither of you moved.
~~~~~~
It had been days since you had last seen Jack.
Although there wasn’t any obligation to meet up, the fact that you saw one another everyday was an unsung ritual. Whenever you were late—let alone completely absent—Jack wouldn’t let you forget it. And then he had the nerve to stand you up for the last three days.
Not that you were counting.
But you kind of were.
At first you had thought maybe he did get sick from standing out in the rain like an idiot. The glory of “I told you so” lasted a mere 24 hours before you began to worry that he was avoiding you on purpose since that rainy morning you spent huddled together.
Then, since this morning, for your own wellbeing you had half convinced yourself that he was being held for ransom somewhere.
The other half was still toying with the much more realistic possibility that he no longer wanted to see you.
The weight of that hurt more than it should have for losing an…acquaintance wasn’t quite right. Neither was a friend or neighbor or anything else you could think of.
You made a habit of seeing each other every day. You worried for each other. You provided for one another.
Whatever the word for that was would be most fitting.
Disconcertingly, your uncertainty and grief had left you unable to sleep the last few nights.
Tonight, you found yourself on the porch of your cabin. A thick wool blanket was draped around your shoulders for warmth, countering your thin flannel shorts and baggy t-shirt. A long abandoned book lay open on your bare thighs—although you had quite enjoyed it the last few days, it was comparably much harder to read by moonlight than desk lamp.
Instead, you found yourself engrossed in the perplexity of the surrounding forest.
The silence had first set in three days ago. The woods around your cabin were usually a symphony of life—the chirping of crickets, the hoot of an owl, and the rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth. But, as of late, there had been nothing.
An absolute, unnerving quiet that pressed into your very bones, somehow making you feel so much smaller and yet infinitely exposed all at once. The air itself felt thick, charged with static energy that made your skin prickle,
The woods itself, and all of its inhabitants, seemed to be waiting with baited breath.
The immense weight of the change felt crushing, nearly unbearable, as some primal part of your mind urged you to flee back inside.
You didn’t listen.
Instead, you nursed your cup of tea that had long gone cold, examining the uneven treeline. The storm had been bad, leaving branches scattered and once tall oaks splintered in half as maws of pale, exposed wood.
It had been hell to navigate even sparse patches of forest.
Examining a particularly gnarly branch, something stirred in your peripheral vision. Off to the right, a blotch of inky black emerged from the dense wreckage of foliage.
Whatever it was walked with an odd gait, long uneven strides as it hunched over. The thing was tall, similar to a bear walking on its hind legs but too thin and coordinated to be so. It was impressively silent and balanced, maneuvering with ease at almost an alarming pace.
It approached you quickly—in fact it was making a b-line straight for you—fear set in momentarily until you saw a familiar glimpse of the navy.
Jack.
Your it was a he, and he had picked the worst possible time to show up at your doorstep.
You discarded your book alongside your tea and frustration, alarm setting in at his absence and sudden reappearance.
“Jack!” You took a few steps from your porch, meeting him.
You grabbed at his arms, panicking when you felt something wet as the overwhelming smell of something metallic filled your lungs.
Your fingers tightened, the thick, coppery tang of blood flooding your senses. His navy hoodie was drenched, the fabric heavy and clinging to his frame, but beneath the dampness, his skin burned like a furnace. His breath came in ragged, uneven pants, each exhaling a ghost of steam in the cool night air.
He felt beyond feverish and was borderline boiling.
"Jack, what happened? Are you hurt?" Your voice trembled, but you forced yourself to meet his face—though there was nothing to see.
His eyes were empty voids, hollowed out and shadowed, yet somehow, you felt his gaze on you—intense and starving. His lips parted, but no words came, only a low, guttural sound vibrating from his chest.
His grip on your arms tightened, almost bruising, as if he were afraid you might vanish. He tried to choke something out, the beginning of what sounded like a no that was quickly interrupted by a guttural groan.
The silence stretched, thick with the weight of tension. You couldn't place it—there was something primal in the way he leaned into you, his body trembling not with pain, but with something else entirely. His fingers twitched against your skin, restless, desperate. Then, without warning, he yanked you closer, his face burying into the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point, not biting, but teasing, testing.
A shiver wracked through you; half fear and half something dangerously close to anticipation.
"You're bleeding," you whispered, though the realization felt distant. Your mind was hazy, but somehow your instincts made it clear; he wasn’t the one in danger.
You were.
“It’s not mine,” he finally rasped. The explanation was minimal and no less troubling than your assumption.
He, however, didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
His hands roamed lower, mapping your waist, your hips, like he was trying to memorize all of you. The blanket around your shoulders slipped, pooling at your feet as he crowded you against the cabin door. The rough wood pressed into your back, his body flush against yours, leaving no space to breathe—or think. The metallic scent of blood mingled with something else; something darker, muskier, something that made your stomach twist and tighten all at once.
"I can smell you," he gasped, his voice raw, cracked. "All of you." His knee slid between your thighs, pressing up, and the friction sent a jolt through you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he rocked forward, slow, deliberate. The movement was predatory, possessive, and yet, there was no malice—only need. Raw, insatiable need.
Your heart hammered against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. You should have pushed him away, should have screamed, should have run—but you didn't.
Instead, your fingers tangled in his blood-soaked hoodie, pulling him closer. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. And when he finally crashed his mouth against yours, you met him halfway, tasting blood and something far more dangerous on his tongue.
His mouth was a maw of sharp, uneven teeth.
Despite his ferocity he didn’t kiss you just yet; he tasted as if you were his last meal. His tongue was a wet, hot invasion that scraped roughly over yours. It was wide, long and eager. In the mess of it all it felt overwhelming, until you realized he had not one but three, all of which seemed determined to map out the inside of your mouth. Some stranger's blood left a coppery tang behind, mixing bitterly with the lingering flavor of your tea.
His hands were everywhere, rough and calloused, gripping your waist with bruising intensity before sliding up to cup the back of your neck. He pulled away from your lips with a fervent gasp, tilting your head back and exposing the length of your throat. The sharp prick of his canines sent a thrill though you as they graced down your skin, stopping just above your collarbone
He didn't bite down hard enough to break the skin—not yet—but the promise of it was enough to make your knees weak.
Slowly, agonizingly, he broke the kiss. A line of saliva and blood connected your mouths for a split second before he pulled away. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, and then his gaze dropped to your neck, his mouth twitching as he inhaled deeply.
"You smell like mine," he murmured, his voice low and rough. Though the words sounded like nonsense, you were too enthralled with him to care. He buried his face in your neck again, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collar and down to your chest.
His hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt, palms rough and calloused, burning against your bare skin. He didn't try to rush. He took his time, mapping every inch of you with his tongue and his fingers, every movement slow and deliberate.
Eager fingers traced the line of your spine, sending jolts of electricity through you. Growing impatient with the amount of fabric between you two he pushed your shirt up, nearly moaning at the realization that your breasts were bare beneath.
He cupped your chest, thumbs pressing into sensitive peaks as he found your nipples. He rubbed the nubs between calloused fingers—his touch firm, but not gentle. It was rough but undercut by an unexplainable intensity and a careful awareness. Every ounce of his self control was being put into not ravishing you.
He wanted to go slow. He wanted you to enjoy this as much as him, but his patience was growing thin and if he couldn’t take his time, he would simply revere you instead.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. The word was barely audible over the rustling of the wind, and the mingling of your heated breaths. He finally looked up, staring at you as he caught his breath.
He pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours again—but this time it was different. It was less aggressive, less messy, but somehow more desperate, and just as insistent. His hands abandoned your breasts, one tracing the curves of your ribs while the other guided your leg around his waist, his strong hold supporting your thigh.
Rough denim bit into your exposed skin as his leg moved up. His knee pressed against the inside of your thigh, pushing higher, and you felt the heat of him radiating through his clothes, searing against your skin. Once he felt your own heat, the sure sign of your excitement as dampness on his thigh, he nearly lost it.
Nails dug into the fat of your leg, urging you forwards and back over and over as he set a sloppy rhythm. The hefty weight of his hard cock dug into your hip—long, thick, and warm. The length was intimidating, your stomach twisting as you fathomed how something that size would even fit inside you.
Between moans, he panted out “I need to be inside you. Please.” His hands were already fiddling with the button of your jeans without waiting for a response
The idea was, admittedly, equal parts terrifying and appealing. Despite your complex–yet heated–feelings for Jack, he was large and not to mention exceedingly eager as he moved down your body.
His intimidating frame melted into yours while you pondered the logistics of how you would survive someone of his size inside you without proper preparation, regardless of how embarrassingly wet you had become.
In the midst of it all you didn’t notice his rough hands tugging down your shorts until you felt cold air nipping at your exposed skin. By then you were spread bare before him, thighs parted as the warmth of his tongue met your exposed lips.
The feeling was oh so foreign.
Your time alone in the woods paired with how unnatural he was had you shuddering from mere licks.
You really were easy.
Self deprecation came naturally as something about his inhumanity stirred something deep in you. That excitement–prior to now–had been unbeknownst to you and now that it had been sparked, it quickly grew into a roaring flame.
Shaking hands found their way into dark curls, tugging and urging for something–you weren’t quite sure what.
However, Jack was.
One of his tongues–lengthy and feverishly warm–parted your folds, hungrily lapping up your slick.
“Shit!” You exclaimed, left breathless as the appendage slipped inside you, longer and thicker than you had expected, larger than you had even thought to be possible, too much to be human.
It was only dawning on you now–with his head nestled between your thighs, some stranger’s blood staining your legs from his cheeks–that Jack was something else.
You weren’t sure how you had overlooked the signs, or even failed to notice after seeing his lack of eyes and rows of jagged teeth.
Perhaps the isolation has rotted your brain.
Maybe it was something more taboo.
All of your aimless pondering came to an end as something else slipped inside you, all fruitless attempts to figure the enigmatic man out drowned out by the feeling of being absolutely and wonderfully full.
Two of his tongues were inside you now, burrowing deep enough that you swore he could taste your cervix.
Jack seemed unfathomably grateful for the meal, stretching you out and curling up until a shaky gasp escaped your lips.
“Jack!” Your plea rivaled reverence as your legs parted more, beckoning him in further to the sweet spot he had stumbled upon.
It was spongy to touch, somehow softer than the rest of your slick walls and every time he nudged it the pressure elicited a delighted squeal from you.
With a renewed vigor he continued the ministries, unrelenting in his attempts to make you squirm.
The pleasure had you struggling to see straight, heat quickly mounting in your abdomen as you tightened around him. It all felt like too much–his tongue's too thick, the escalation of events too quick, the lack of communication too daunting.
And yet, selfishly, needily you forgot all apprehension.
“Puh..Please don’t stop!”
Your whine was dulcet to Jack, the sweetest thing he had ever heard. It drew a deep growl from the depths of his chest, a subtle rumble that sent pleasant vibrations through your sex.
That was enough to push you over the edge, crying out as your vision became spotty.
Heat spread through your shuddering body, spine tensing and arching as you were eased through your orgasm.
Jack’s unrelenting ministrations drew out your pleasure, urging more from you–more moans, more cries, more cum.
Even as your shakes subsided and muscles went lax he didn’t stop. Instead his jaw opened, more than it should have been able to, and his third and final tongue found its way to your swelling clit.
It became too hard to see, too hard to comprehend. Your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering until they shut as his tongue splayed over the sensitive nub. He worked quickly, sloppy circles causing your thighs to shake.
Pressure began mounting again, a knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten as your legs finally snapped shut–or as close as they could get to it–over his pointed ears.
Another growl rumbled through Jack, two hands coming up between you both to force your hips open again. Calloused fingers dug into the plush of your inner thigh, pinning them in place.
His work had left you both a mess, blood and cum smeared across your legs and his cheeks, slick separating you both by a few glistening strands as he pulled away to speak.
“Don’t move.”
“Okay…” You whimpered before you knew what you were saying, arched your back without really meaning to, tugged at his hair absently in hopes you would return to your sex.
Of course, your wish was granted.
It felt right to have his tongues slip back inside you, in the brief moments without them you had felt empty.
The realization made your cheeks flush, parted lips coming together so you could gnaw on the bottom one.
A small part of you was ashamed for succumbing to your urges, for indulging so blatantly, for not questioning what Jack was or why this was happening.
You no longer cared that he had been gone, you didn’t mind the mess he had arrived in.
You were simply glad that he was back.
The realization, although late yet again, eased your pounding heart and foggy mind, allowing you to slip fully into the throes of pleasure being readily given to you.
Jack worked you through orgasm after orgasm, not giving you a moment of respite, eating you out like a man starved.
He only stopped when your clit had become so sensitive his breath made you twitch, and when the mess coming from you was more cum than slick.
As he pulled away your hands fell from his head, slipping down his neck and over broad shoulders to tug at his hoodie.
You wanted him closer, but you also wanted it off.
To compensate for him having to pull away you wrapped your now weak legs around him.
Your attempts were futile as Jack seemed to have other plans for you both.
He wrapped one arm around you, effortlessly holding you up as he pulled you away from the wall before beginning to set you on the ground.
In your haze it took you a moment to notice that this wasn’t a temporary resting place.
“Jack..!” You cried, half whine, half scold, as he pulled the soiled sweatshirt off of his head.
The sight left you breathless for a moment, his hair a mess from your tugging, his face and neck flushed. His bare chest was soft but noticeably strong with defined biceps covered in a thin layer of hair that was also prominent on his messy happy trail.
Although you were waiting for an answer, your only form of acknowledgement seemed to be him pausing, arms still stuck in his sweatshirt as it hung limply in front of him.
Right. He was still like that.
“We…we are not having sex on the floor.”
“Yes, we are.”
You were dumbfounded by his blatant refusal, your mouth hanging open dumbly for a moment. “No we are not!” You shot back.
He stopped this time, pondering your demand and surprisingly asked, “why not?”
Splinters? Shame? Discomfort? The front door being wide open?
You could think of a myriad of reasons why it was a bad idea, and yet worlds failed you, as all you could muster was a “because I said so.”
Another beat of silence, followed by a soft plop as he finished taking his top off, before he finally relented. “Alright.”
Jack seceded from impatience it seemed. He closed the distance between you both again, scooping you up as he pressed heated kisses down your neck, across your breasts, up your shoulders–wherever his mouth could reach.
Setting you down on the couch he settled on top of you, his legs hanging over the armrest due to his height. His free hand undid the button of his cargo pants before he shifted and kicked to get them off. He cursed under his breath as he struggled, the arm holding him up trembling–not from exertion but from desperation.
His face was a deep red, sweat beading on his forehead and collar, a soft whine escaping every time your body simply brushed his.
When his pants and boxers were finally off, the last of his control seemed to evaporate. A heady groan escaped his lips, hard cock now curling up towards his frame and resting on your lower stomach.
It was long and thick, something you would surely struggle to maneuver even with both hands. Your stomach fluttered, thighs squeezing together as you eyed the veins running from his swollen head down to the bulb situated at the base of his dick.
Before you could really think of what it was, restless hands pushed your legs apart and up to rest over his shoulders, granting him access to your sex. Guiding his length between your folds, precum dripped over your entrance before he pushed in.
With a few shallow thrusts he bottomed out, forcing the monstrous size into you so quickly you saw stars.
_____
The pain was sharp, a violent intrusion that stole the breath right out of your lungs, but it was swiftly swallowed by the overwhelming fullness. You clamped down around him instinctively, your nails digging into the soft skin of his shoulders as he held himself there, buried to the hilt inside you.
You screamed, a sound that tore itself from your throat before your brain could even process the sudden sensation. It wasn’t pain—not exactly—but the kind of stretch that threatened to ruin you, a bone-deep ache that radiated outward until you felt impossibly wide, impossibly full.
“Jack…!” The syllable was barely a breath and hardly a plea–you weren’t asking him to stop, you weren’t begging for him to move, you just wanted him.
He stilled above you, his body vibrating with the effort to remain steady, his hands planting on the cushion next to your head to anchor himself. He panted, his chest heaving against yours, the heat radiating off him like a furnace.
"You're so tight," he rasped out, his voice guttural and wrecked. "You're... so tight."
He didn't move immediately, just rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged, hot pants that fogged the space between your faces. The sheer scale of him was staggering; he felt impossibly large, stretching you wide in ways that no human ever could. A heavy, musky scent—the same one that had filled the air earlier—wafted off him, thick and primal.
He leaned in, pressing a clumsy, desperate kiss to your mouth, tasting of blood and salt.
"Take it," he commanded, though the words were barely a whisper. "Take all of it."
Slowly, agonizingly, he began to pull back.
The friction was maddening, the drag of his length against your sensitive walls sending sparks of electricity shooting up your spine. When he bottomed out again with a deep thrust, your back arched off the couch, a loud moan tearing from your throat.
Each movement was deep, a heavy impact that rocked your body upwards. He was relentless, hips pistoning against yours with a brutal rhythm that had your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges.
Your nails scraped down his back, leaving angry red trails against the soft skin of his lower back, the only mark you could leave on him.
"Oh god..." You gasped, your voice cracking, drowning in the sensation of him, stretched to the limit by his sheer size.
"Jack... please, don't stop," you whimpered, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper.
You didn't need to ask twice.
He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with a ferocity that bordered on animalistic. Each stroke was deep, claiming every inch of you, hitting that same spot inside you that made your vision blur and your toes curl. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingled with your moans and his guttural growls.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky rasp. "You're taking it so well. So tight."
He shifted, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot harder with every thrust. The pressure built rapidly, a knot tightening in your lower belly until you were gasping for breath, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.
"You're going to cum," he noted. "I can feel it. You're clenching around me." The bluntness of his words drastically opposed the quiver in his words and the heavy breath between each syllable.
His hand moved down to your clit, rubbing rough circles over the sensitive nub. The dual stimulation pushed you over the edge faster than you expected.
You cried out, your body seizing as a powerful orgasm rippled through you, your inner muscles clamping down so hard on his cock that he hissed.
"Just like that," Jack urged, his face twisting in pleasure. He spoke breathily, nails leaving angry red marks as he forced your hips closer, half bouncing you onto his cock as he continued moving; driving into you with deliberate precision, his pace increasing as he chased his own release.
"You're mine," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy on your ear.
His knot began to swell, a thick, bulbous base that pulsed against your sensitive skin. It was an alien intrusion, a part of him that you were learning to accommodate–the friction creating a fire that burned in the very marrow of your bones.
"Jack, it's too big..." You whimpered, your hands grasping at his shoulders. You felt your stomach drop, sure that you wouldn’t be able to fit it–it was a miracle you had taken as much as you had already.
"Shut up and take it," he commanded softly, his voice laced with a dark, possessive need. "You can take it. You're doing so well." The praise was choppy, foreign coming from him, but well earned regardless.
He pushed forward, forcing the knot to expand, locking him inside you.
You cried out as your body was somehow stretched further, more than it had ever been before, the knot catching on your rim, and then sliding in with a pop. He was trapped inside you, a massive weight that filled you completely, leaving you no room to breathe, no room to think, only to feel the incredible pressure and the pulsing heat of him.
You gasped for air, your body trembling violently.
"Good girl," he purred, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to the roughness of his actions. "You took it all. You took all of me."
He rested there, his forehead resting against yours, the action oddly tender but far from unwelcome.
"You're so full," he continued, whispering in awe while his thumb stroked your cheek.
The sensation of his knot trapping you was intense, a feeling of being completely possessed, of being locked together.
"I'm full," you echoed, your voice barely a whisper, unable to process the magnitude of the experience.
"Good," he said, and his hips gave a small, experimental roll.
You jolted, the movement sending shockwaves through your body, the knot rubbing against your sensitive walls.
"Jack..."
He chuckled darkly, tentatively, his breath hitching his chest.
"Did you like it?"
You didn't answer, too overwhelmed by the sensation to form words. You could only arch your back, a silent plea for more, for everything.
He seemed to understand.
Jack started to move again, grinding his hips slowly and deliberately, the knot catching and releasing, sending you into a spiral of pleasure that made your head spin.
He seemed to be enjoying himself, his own release imminent, and the knowledge that he was trapped inside you– unable to pull out until he was ready–added to the immense heat and sheer alien nature of the creature you were sharing a moment with.
Your mind began to wander, twisting into a dark, erotic dreamland where you were nothing more than his vessel, his mate, his everything.
He was lost in the sensation too, his eyes fixated on where his cock was buried deep inside you.
He felt your walls clamp down on him, milking him for everything he had.
"I'm going to fill you up," he announced, as if to inform you.
His formality forced a dazed giggle from you.
His hips snapped forward one last time, and his cock throbbed violently.
A stream of hot cum flooded your insides, the sheer amount of it was staggering.
"Jack!" You screamed, your body tensing, your eyes rolling back.
He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your entire body as a stream of hot cum filled the emptiness of your womb.
He pumped his hips erratically, after every thrust, the room seemed to shrink, the world outside seemed to disappear, you were just two bodies locked together.
You, Jack, and what you had together was the only thing that mattered.
The flood continued for what felt like ages.
Eventually, he slowed, his breathing returning to a more normal–albeit heavy–pace.
The knot deflated slightly, but remained swollen, preventing him from pulling out.
He pulled his face from your neck, looking at you with adoration, but also a dark hunger.
"You're covered in me," he said, your body glistening with sweat and smelling strongly of him; your legs spread wide on the couch, your thighs sticky with a mixture of your own juices and his.
He lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You're mine now.”
He reached for his sweatshirt and wiped his face, removing the remnants of his earlier meals–a mixture of your fluids and foreign blood.
You had a clearer look at his face now.
He had a strong jaw, well defined cheek bones and traces of wispy stubble on his chin. Despite his lack of eyes you could feel the intensity of his gaze and the reverence which he had for you. The man was adoring, relishing in the sight of you laid bare before him, especially fond of the point where your bodies met.
“Thank you…” you muttered, breaking the silence, tugging softly at his neck to draw him closer.
