#ej x reader

Masky/Tim

realized you were ovulating when you started to become more cranky than usual.

when he woke up to you grinding your hips against him while lying next to him, he already knew you were ovulating.

he didn't care if it was the morning he took care of you

he held your hips and started to grind against your ass

doesnt like having to deal with your attitude, so he might as well treat you as

gets on top of you and starts undressing you, getting rid of your underwear

as soon as he slid his dick inside your wet, gushing hole, he knew that your attitude was going to fix.

makes sure you end up a moaning mess, babbling nothing but "more" and "please."

mocks how sensitive you are in your current state

its pitiful really

three rounds in, and it's still not enough for you.

"We're not done yet, right baby?"

once he's tired, he lets you ride out your orgasm

ticci toby

you get more aggressive with him

he doesnt mind, he's all for you

lets you use him however you want

doesnt mind being treated like a toy

loves it when you sit on his face and ride him

uses this opportunity to try out new things

agrees to cnc when you're comfortable about it

its something that's so sick of him, he knows

if you say no, he'll act like it's no issue

but he does manipulate you into a bit

"I promise babe, you'll enjoy it, especially when you're on your days you know?"

he doesnt mind waking up to seeing you ride him

puts his arms around your waist and thrusts up

loves teasing you, he ends up egging you

he likes to see you beg for him

to give you what you want, you don't care how embarrassing it looks

would go for rounds, but after a while, he gets tired

he makes it up by eating you out

what type of boyfriend would he be to not please his girlfriend

hoodie/brian

can handle you but he ends up getting sore because of how hard he goes.

doesnt care how feral you get, he's there to please you

uses the opportunity of your sex crazed mind to make you deep-throat him

really likes the 69 position because of that

you both get to feel good

spanks you if you stop

makes sure you squirt and cum

loves to have your juice on him

a disgusting habit he has is him making you taste your own slick

hes there to please you but also satisfy himself

which speaking he loves putting you in a mean mating press

the image of him pounding into you while having his way with you almost makes him cum

ends up overstimulating you because he cant stop himself from detaching himself from you

since he cant have kids, he makes sure to fill you up

if he sees his cum leaking out of you and cums inside you again

"oh it's leaking love, we can't have that right"

eyeless jack

can smell it on you

your smell is addicting to him

he can smell your neediness

he can also feels the symptoms

pins you down and fucks you

thinks its the perfect time to breed you

makes you stuffy full with his kids

youll be his mate for life

has you in doggy, sobbing on his bed

puts you in a nasty headlock too

youre so overwhelmed, you try to grab onto anything, but nothing helps

hes so into it though

your desperate attempts to get away from him, but he brings you closer to him

you wanted him to treat you like this, why are you running away from it?

he's so sensitive, too

as he's ramming his dick inside your warm wall, he feels so aroused and can't seem to stop

dont ever bring it up, but he whimpers a bit

his head falls on your shoulders and bites you so he can stop letting out such embarrassing sounds

A full month since you’d had a person to call home. Some days, you’d forget, sleeping soundly. Some days, you were angry. Then, on other days, his touch would linger over your skin in the dead of night. A phantom haunting you, his voice ringing in your ears- his features imprinted behind your lids.

Last night was exactly like that, but you had things to do. So you saddled up and greeted Jack as if you weren’t splitting at the seams. Though now standing in your own makeshift medbay, you found the goal harder to accomplish than you’d prepared for.

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “Mm.” The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and you reached for a scalpel. Brain elsewhere, your eyes focused on five things at once. You went to place the blade into your kit when your knuckles brushed his.

“Sorry-”

“Apologies-”

Your mumbles overlapped, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. While you weren’t close with the cannibal, he had an ability to put you at ease. No pressure to initiate small talk, no barriers to suffocate you. You could just exist in his presence, and that was enough. It was nice.

Scalpels to the left. Exchangeable blades in the upper compartment. Sterile fluids would be organized into the cupboards, with the non-injectable type placed below.

You already packed the pill bottles this morning, so that was done. Yet, you felt like something was strange, a little off-kilter. Were you missing anything?

Jeffery?

Your body locked from head to toe, a deer in headlights, before you shook it off. Distracted by only a millisecond.

But Jack noticed.

The sound of metal clinking, the shuffling of bandages, then silence. His gaze was heavy on you even if you weren’t looking at him. Dread building, the weight in your stomach growing. Everything was fine.

You swallowed, your hands shaking slightly when you folded the gauze into a neat roll.

“What happened?”

The blade clattered against the surface. Still refusing to meet his eyes, you stiffly shook your head. “Nothing. I’m just out of it today.” Yet instead of his usual nod, he sighed. Barely audible as he rounded the table.

He was less than a foot away, leaning back to rest on the ledge. His head cocked to the side by a fraction. “That’s not true.”

You shrugged, shoving down the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, Jack-” He cut you off swiftly. “I can smell your distress.” Blunt and exposing. You finally let your arms fall limp and glanced at him. Tears bubbling up before you could even speak, the only noise that left your mouth was a pitiful half-gasp. Your syllables tripped over each other, but at last, the confession forced its way out.

“He fucked someone else.”

Nothing. The room was frozen for a few achingly long seconds- Jack straightened his spine. “I see.” His face was covered by the mask, barren voids where his eyes should be. He wasn’t the emotional type, and guilt simmered at the back of your mind.

This was probably awkward for him.

“Sorry. I just- I don’t know. I haven’t talked about it with anybody. I can’t, y’know? I’m…” You trailed off, sniffling with embarrassment creeping in. However, as you went to ramble out another apology, he interrupted you. “Would you like me to hold you?” Soft, understanding, his tone made you whip your head up.

You had never been physically affectionate with him, yet you still considered him a friend. Someone you trusted. And in this moment, the offer sounded like a lifeline.

You surged forward, and his arms wrapped around you in a heartbeat. He smelled earthy, like safety and something grounding. You hiccuped into his chest, his sweater balled in your fists. Jack was gentle to his very core; the way he embraced you proved it.

One large palm cradling your head, the other smoothing down your back. He murmured quietly. “Breathe. I have you.” That had you nuzzling further into him, trying to bury your sorrows behind his ribs. You inhaled, unsteady, while you snivelled. “He only stayed cause I was easy.” A basey clicking reverberated from his chest.

“You’re not easy.” He said, speaking into your hair. You shook your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, Jack-” Pulling back to look at him, you sobbed.

“I-I feel stupid. He never cared- I did everything for him because I thought he loved me. He said he did- he promised.”

Your agony was so pungent it made the hair on his nape prickle. He brought his hand to your cheek, swiping below your lashes with his thumb.

“That doesn’t make you stupid; it makes you kind.” The faint chuffing emanating from him kept growing, Jack soothing you like a tiger would their cubs.

“Your trust in him was natural. It’s not your fault, my lamb.” The endearment filled your head with cotton, and you cuddled into his palm.

It was far too intimate. Vulnerable. You wanted to see him, too. “… Can I?” You whispered, your finger running along the edge of his mask- a longing you weren’t even aware of reflecting in your pupils.

Jack should’ve put a stop to this long ago, but he was selfish.

He was a pinnacle of self-control. The prime example of somebody who needed nothing. So when Jeff started returning with your scent stuck to him like a second skin, Jack didn’t blink. Even if his claws twitched just a bit.

His fondness for you had manifested years earlier, his wants ignored because you had your sights set on another. You were happy with the killer; it’d be wrong to hold that against you.

It’s not that he particularly agreed with your tastes. In his opinion, Jeffery was a volatile man. A mediocre partner at best, and trauma waiting to happen at worst.

Yet you had made your decision, and he would be content as long as you were.

And then Jeff had begun coming home smelling of a stranger.

He didn’t want to assume, ruining your relationship, because he had a hunch. He allowed you to figure it out on your own, waiting for Jeff to slip up. He was never the most careful of the bunch, and it was inevitable.

You could say Jack was a bad person for hoping the other man would fuck up- it was just that he knew you deserved better. You deserved someone who could understand you. Someone who could take care of you, instead of making you cry yourself to sleep. If Jeff couldn’t fill the role, then he’d happily step into position.

He borderline purred, the noise rumbling under your hand. He remained still as you nudged his mask up. The navy lifting over his jaw, his nose, then his sockets until it slipped to the floor. Jack was stunning.

The longest lashes you’d ever seen, with the cutest dimples indenting his cheeks faintly. Your sniffling had dimmed, and you were beyond occupied with simply staring at him. “What?” He arched a brow, making your ears warm.

Now that you could witness his expressions along with his words, you realized how teasing he actually was.

You avoided his gaze, tittering nervously. “I didn’t think you’d be so- like.” You shrugged slightly, and he hummed. Descending, his nose brushed over your skin, his voice low. “You seem quite distracted for someone grieving.” He muttered, his touch drifting up the curve of your spine. “It’s alright; you can continue. I’m listening.” You shivered, anguish dissipating quicker by the minute.

“Tell me, what saddens you so?” His cadence had developed an almost sultry lilt, slow and deliberate. The cold atmosphere of your basement turned sweltering, and you pouted. “Jack.” The soft whine had him running his tongue over his teeth. “Yes?”

You tugged at his sweater, flustered. “You’re doing this on purpose.” He thought your hammering pulse was adorable.

Gripping your hips before spinning your body, you were pressed against the table’s edge. Breath hitching when he nipped at your throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, little dove. I’m simply comforting you.” Jack mouthed at the sensitive skin, his leg slotting between your thighs.

The hard muscle was flush to your core, and you gasped, grasping for purchase at his shoulders. He was so broad, towering over you, his strength inhuman. “Such a precious thing. You just needed something to ease your tears, hm?”

You nodded, hips bucking against him. Your desperation made him chuckle quietly, and he withdrew. Forehead resting on yours. “Don’t worry-” He grinned, his sincerity sickly sweet.

“I’ll make sure you don’t remember his name by sunrise.”

ᯓ★

12:23 AM.

The manor was dark, crows calling into the night. Jack’s boots thudded down the hall, the cannibal well-rested and fed. He rounded the corner, his claw a second away from wrapping around the basement doorknob—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Speak of the devil.

Spinning on his heel, his gaze swept down the killer's body. Jeff was just as repulsive as he’d expected. A slob, through and through. He reeked of death, and the acidity from his sweat was making Jack’s nose hurt. “Busy.” He grunted, and Jeff scoffed. “You’ve been gone for two days- did you even get the shit you were supposed to?”

A twitch in his pointed ears, his neck stretching to the right lazily. Wasting time for the fun of it, he supposed. “I did.” A sneer formed at Jeff’s lips, and he squinted at him. “What’s up with you?”

He tilted his head. “Nothing’s up with me.” Turning once more, the door creaked open. He took a step onto the stairs leading down, ready to get back to his original duties, supplies in hand.

Except that before he could even make it fully out of the hall, Jeff barked from behind him. “The hell is that?” Right, he had taken a souvenir.

Your underwear hadn’t fit all the way into his back pocket, apparently, but he’s sure you wouldn’t mind too much about your new relationship going public.

He glanced over his shoulder, relaxed. “I told you. I was busy.” Jeff snickered, sleazy as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Whistling like this was the highlight of his day. “Shit- would’ve thought bitches got scared of you. Who’d you get lucky with, EJ?”

You didn’t need to see Jack’s face to know he was holding in a laugh, his smugness more than obvious in his voice.

“Your ex.”

— ^ ^ —

Byun Euijoo was the prettiest man in existence. Byun Euijoo was as beautiful as the poets described inanimate objects to be in their frantic rants on aesthetic crumpled paper. Byun Euijoo was your moon, sun, stars, galaxies and everything in between.

Byun Euijoo was yours and you were his and everything was hunky dory in this simple life. 

Anyways let's move on and be on our merry way—

Oh hello there, horniness. Whatever are you doing here? 

Yeah. 

You wanted to ride Byun Euijoo’s cock till the crack of glorious dawn. 

One slight issue, not much of a problem really. How the actual hell were you supposed to ask your sweet tangerine of a boyfriend if you could sit on that beautiful dick that the gods had blessed him with and ride it like a heady stallion? It was in such situations that you realised you should really not let your uterus control your brain. 

It wasn't to say you two hadn't ever had sex with each other. Hell, your current beloved was the man who had taken your virginity, wrapped it up in caramel wrappers and kept it all to himself. As he should, if you were being completely frank. 

You remembered your first time like it was just yesterday. The heavenly feeling of his slender, skilled fingers entering you first, then that damned tongue of his—you were sure it could have brought Arthur and his round table to their knees had they seen how sharp it spit its pretty words, and it could have brought out Guinevere too, what with the pace at which it moved.  

And then he was in you, actually in you, and oh all you could think about was Euijoo, Euijoo, Euijoo. He was the only thing lingering in your mind, the sole thing your mind could even comprehend, as if all coherence was reduced to the tiny space that the letters of his name took up. 

And he was so sweet afterwards too, like the meat of a tangerine—shockingly saccharine, akin to the first time you'd ever tasted chocolate as a child. Euijoo had been the perfect boyfriend, the stuff of movies, the person your friends had alleged didn't exist in real life. 

He had smoothed his hand over your messy hair, cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you came down from the high of your first orgasm. Then he'd picked you right up in his arms, cradling you to his broad chest and had placed you down in a warm bath which you had no idea when he even had the time to run. And he'd even poured in all of your favourite bath salts! How sweet of him.

Byun Euijoo was the perfect boyfriend. 

The only not-too-serious problem was he was so damn gentle with it. It had taken you maybe three days of convincing for him to go even a fraction of a frequency harder. You remembered that night, when your whispered pleas and the press of your hips finally convinced him. In your point of view, it was a goddamn breakthrough.

Even then, your boyfriend was a symphony of care. Every half-harsh thrust, every gasp, was punctuated by a soft question. "Are you okay?” "Does this feel good?" "Tell me if it's too much."

His voice had been a low, tender murmur against your skin, a constant anchor even as pleasure began to build a storm inside you.

And it did feel good. So good that the world narrowed to the points of contact: his lips on your shoulder, his breath in your ear, the deep rhythm he’d finally allowed. It felt like being known, like being cherished and consumed, all at once. 

That night planted a seed, a horny demon seed, and now, it’s grown into a full, blooming want. The memory of that controlled power, that restrained strength, has curdled into a delicious, daring thought: You want to steer the ship.

The idea of riding him felt like claiming a new kind of intimacy, not just receiving his care, but meeting it—surrounding it, controlling the pace, watching his pretty face unravel from above. You wanted to see what happens when you set the rhythm. You wanted to see his hands, usually so gentle, maybe clutch at your thighs. You wanted to hear his questions turn into gasps, his careful words dissolve into your name like a sinful prayer.

Hey it was almost like you were reclaiming all that confidence you’d lost in middle school! Yay, you!

But the dilemma was how would you ask him? How would you translate this hungry (carnivorous), bubbling impulse into words your sweet tangerine would understand?

Maybe you could start with your touch—it never failed to unravel him like a spool of wool.  A slow evening, his head in your lap, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. You could murmur it into the quiet, a half-suggestion wrapped in a kiss: ‘Euijoo… I had a thought. Something I want to try with you.’

Or perhaps you use the memory itself—the way he was grunting about how tight you’d felt when he was buried to the hilt. ‘Remember when you went harder? Felt so good, Ju. Can we try that again tonight?’

You imagined his reaction, a slight pause, the way his beautiful eyes would focus, deep and thoughtful. He might blink, then a soft smile would touch his lips. He’d say ‘are you sure, love?’ and you’d whisper your ‘yes, please’ and then he’d cup your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

He'd say, ‘Okay,’ in that voice that always felt like a promise. Then he'd lie back and watch you, his gaze full of that same tender awe, but now mixed with a new, surrendering heat. He’d be your anchor again, but this time, you’d be the wave.

So, how would you ask? With words? With touches? With a look? 

“CanIpleaserideyourcock.” 

Or yeah you could just do that. Say your words as fast as you could and make Euijoo look down at you with that expression that you could never read.

The movie was a soft murmur in the background, some romantic comedy neither of you were really watching. His arm was draped around your shoulders, your head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

He’d just brought your hand up, his lips brushing a feather-light kiss over your knuckles, a habit so ingrained it was like a second heartbeat. And that’s when your gaze drifted.

His black compression shirt (why did the handsome bastard have to wear it on the one day you were a raging horny demon) clung to him like a second skin, tracing the plains of his chest, the subtle shift of muscle in his arm. Below, the soft grey sweatpants were a study in casual, devastating temptation, hinting at the line of his thighs, at the relaxed, heavy drape of the fabric between them. A contrast to your own outfit—just his oversized shirt and a pair of panties, feeling both protected and perilously exposed.

Your mind didn't just wander, oh it fucking sprinted, replaying the heat of his skin, the weight of him, the way his control had felt like both a sanctuary and a cage you suddenly wanted to rattle. The thought was a drumbeat, synchronizing with your pulse: ride him, ride him, ride him.

You must have tensed, or let out a tiny, trapped sound, because his fingers stilled on your hand. "Hmm?" he hummed, the vibration gentle against your temple. "What's wrong, love?"

His voice, always so tender, was your undoing. The question, the sweet concern, was the final crack in the dam. He was being so careful and gentle and all you could think of was his cock buried deep as fuck in you. The words, marinated in want and a frantic lack of filter, tumbled out in a single, breathless, jumbled rush.

"CanIpleaserideyourcock."

Silence.

Not the empty silence of the paused movie, but a thick, profound, living silence that swallowed the room whole. The only sound was the frantic thud of your own heart in your ears.

Slowly, so slowly, you felt him shift, his arm slipping from your shoulders. You couldn't bring yourself to look up, your face burning with a heat that could power a small city. You stared rigidly at a loose thread on the knee of his sweatpants.

Then, a finger hooked gently under your chin, tilting your face up.

You were met with the look. His beautiful eyes were wide, pupils dark and blown, but his expression was utterly, mystifyingly unreadable. It wasn't shock, exactly and it wasn't disapproval. 

It was a deep, intense focus, as if he was translating a complex and fascinating new language—the language of your blunt, desperate hunger. His lips were slightly parted, and a soft, curious smile played on them. He just looked at you, he looked at you for so long that you thought you might dissolve into the couch cushions.

Finally, his thumb stroked over the apple of your burning cheek. His voice, when it came, was low, a little rough, and laced with that same unreadable awe.

“What was that, my love?

The sound of his voice, so gentle, sent a fresh wave of fire over your skin. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone completely dry. You managed a tiny, shaky breath.

Euijoo didn’t rush you. His thumb continued its slow, maddening stroke on your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. It was like he was waiting for a precious secret, giving you all the time in the world to form the words properly, even though you’d already thrown them at him in a chaotic heap.

Gathering every ounce of courage left in your trembling body, you forced your lips to move. This time, you tried to pace it, to give each word its own weight, though they still came out as a hushed, pleading whisper.

“I said…..can I… please…..ride your cock?”

There it was, out in the open like a wild cat. Just a full, coherent sentence hanging in the air between you. You cringed as you said each word.

The look on his face shifted, softening at the edges, that curious smile blooming into something warmer. He leaned in, until his forehead was almost touching yours, his breath a warm caress against your lips.

“Love….” He murmured, the words vibrating with a low, appreciative hum. “You do realise what you’re asking?” 

You merely hummed, suddenly having lost the microns of confidence you’d had five minutes ago. God he looked so beautiful, there wasn't any word in the lexicons of all the languages you knew to properly describe him. Those eyes, those lips, that skin—what sort of Homer or Sappho were you to depict him in a way that did justice?

“Baby.” Your boyfriend pulled back just enough to see your whole face, his eyes tracing your features as if memorizing this moment, “Tell me properly.”

His words were a tantalizing invitation, a request to step into your own desire, fully and without shame. You took a shaky breath, the air feeling thin and electric.

“Well, you know how we’ve been having sex lately…”“Uh huhh…”

“And you know how we usually only fuck….normally.” Well that was certainly one way to describe it.

“And you know how I really, really love you.”

“I really, really love you too, angel.” God he was so fucking sweet, even while you were being the most awkward deer in headlights.

“Do you not like it, angel?” Euijoo said, his expression a beautiful conflict of awe and concern, “Do you not feel good?

The concern in his voice, so genuine and immediate, shattered the last of your awkwardness. It was so him—to hear your clumsy phrasing and instantly worry he hadn’t been enough.

“No! God no, Euijoo, that’s not it at all,” you rushed out, your hands coming up to frame his face, forcing him to see the truth in your eyes. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. It’s just….”

“Just what, my love?” Euijoo asked and you took another breath. You could do this; for him, you could find the words.

“Well, I love how you take care of me. You make me feel so good, always.” You bit your lip, searching for the right way to explain the hunger that felt both foreign and fundamental, “I just want to try something new, you know? I want to make you feel good. Your voice gained a sliver of strength, fueled by the honesty in his eyes. “Please, Ju?”

You watched his beautiful face process them, his eyes darkening, his lips parting slightly on a soft, indrawn breath. The awe was still there, but his concern had been utterly transformed into a kind of captivated shock.

“Oh….” he breathed, the single syllable loaded with a universe of understanding. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your waist, tightened their grip almost imperceptibly. 

“I mean you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.” You laughed awkwardly, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I’m sorry, it was a stupid idea I just—”

Euijoo closed the small distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was devastatingly soft—a promise, a taste, a silent conversation. When he broke away, his lips lingered a hair’s breadth from yours.

“It’s not stupid.” Your beloved murmured, the words a warm sigh against your mouth. His hands slid from your face to your shoulders, a gentle weight, “I just don't want you getting hurt, my love.”

Now let us pause for a second, dearest reader. 

Byun Euijoo was yours and you were his. 

And my, was he a liar, liar, liar. 

Pretty liar, though.

Euijoo had the face and demeanour of a complete angel. His friends and family knew him to be nothing more than the sweet, kind boy with infinite patience. The epitome of a soft spring, as his girlfriend had dubbed him. 

But oh god if only you knew about him when the lights went off. Oh if only you knew about all the times he’d wrapped your panties around his dick and imagined it was your warm heat wrapped around him instead. Of course, he’d never force any of his fantasies onto you. He’d never want you to get hurt because of you, his pretty baby to cherish.

Euijoo had thought it had been enough—the first time you two had made love to each other. The dulcet tone of your soft mewls and moans had him going so fucking crazy. The way you’d whined his name when he entered you, he could feel himself grow even harder in you, which he didn't even know was possible. The way you looked up at him with cartoonishly dazed eyes, at the verge of going cross eyed, even though he’d been so goddamn gentle, the combination of it all had been busting maybe fifteen more times.

And the day you’d asked him to go harder? Oh that had been Armageddon. 

And now here you were, all pretty and soft and doe-eyed. And oh you were even climbing onto his lap now. How amazing for his poor dick.

Shifting forward on the couch, you placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle of them through the thin shirt. Ignoring his gentle hold, you swung one leg, then the other, over his lap, settling yourself firmly astride his thighs. The new position, the feel of him solid beneath you, the way his breath hitched—it was intoxicating. You looked down at him, at his parted lips and wide, surprised eyes.

“It’ll be good.” You said, your own voice gaining a sure note you didn’t know you possessed. “It will be good because it’s you and it’s me, and we both love each other very much and I really, really, need you right now.”

It would be the last day on earth for Euijoo’s mental stability.

You saw the moment he surrendered. The concern in his eyes was eclipsed by a dawning, deep-seated heat. A slow, breathless chuckle escaped him, a sound of pure wonder and capitulation. His hands, which had been resting on your shoulders, slid down your back, coming to rest on your hips. 

“Okay,” he breathed, the word a sacred pact. His head fell back against the couch cushions, his gaze locking with yours, full of that tender awe and now, a complete, open surrender, “Okay, my sweet girl.”

A slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his usual gentle smile. This was something new—something edged with a thrilling, surrendered heat. He leaned in, until his nose brushed yours.

“But,” He whispered, his voice a low vibration that went straight to your core, “you have to promise that you won't force yourself for my sake, hmm?”

“I won’t.” You said, jokingly holding up your pinky, “I promise.”

Euijoo took it anyway, intertwining it in his, and bringing your hands up to his lips again to kiss your knuckles. What a gentleman. 

The heat of his body seeped through his pants, and you could already feel the growing hardness of his cock pressing against your core as you settled. Euijoo exhaled sharply, hands now coming to rest on your waist, gripping just firm enough.

“Well, if you’re sure, angel.” His reluctance melted under your gaze, that secret excitement bubbling beneath his sweet boy facade. He pulled you closer, lips crashing into yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

Your mouths moved together, tongues sliding and teasing, the kiss turning messy and heated. You rocked your hips experimentally, grinding down against the bulge in his sweatpants, the friction sending sparks through you. A soft moan escaped you into his mouth, and Euijoo groaned in response, his fingers digging into your sides as he kissed you harder.

You picked up a rhythm, rolling your hips forward and back, pressing your clothed heat against his cock with each pass. The barrier between you only heightened the tease, the pressure building deliciously without any real relief. His hands slid up your back, one tangling in your hair to tilt your head, deepening the kiss as his tongue danced into your mouth in time with your movements.

Euijoo's breaths came in pants, his secret thrill making his grip possessive. He loved this—your eagerness, the way your body moved for him, so desperate. And he revelled in the fact that it was because of him. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours. 

“Mmmh…..” Euijoo groaned softly against your lips, voice rougher now, his control slipping just a fraction, “So pretty, my love.”

He bucked up subtly, meeting your grinds, the outline of his cock rubbing right against your clit through your panties. You whimpered, nipping at his lower lip, your hands clutching his shoulders as you humped him faster, chasing that building ache.

“Let’s go somewhere else, hmm?”

Before you could protest, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the couch. You clung to him, legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you toward the bedroom, your heart racing with anticipation.

He carried you as if you weighed nothing, your bodies pressed together in a seamless, heated line. The journey to the bedroom felt both eternal and instantaneous, a blur of hallway shadows and the soft, grounding sound of Euijoo’s breathing against your neck. 

When he reached the bed, your beloved lowered you with a reverence that stole your breath, following you down so his body covered yours, caging you in warmth and strength.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath him—hair fanned out, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling with the same ragged rhythm as his own. His thumb traced your lower lip.

“You’re sure, angel?” Euijoo murmured, with a kiss to your cheek that made you smile, “Like, one hundred sure?” 

You shifted atop the bed, heart thumping as you moved to straddle Euijoo's hips once more, the mattress dipping under your combined weight. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, but he kept his hands at his sides, palms flat against the sheets, giving you the space to lead. You could feel the hard heat of him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, a direct line to your own aching core. 

You smiled up at him, “Yes, Ju, I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” He said, pressing a final kiss to the tip of your nose, before rolling to the side, lying back against the pillows, his gaze fixed on you with raw anticipation. The trust in his expression was absolute; he was handing you the reins, fully surrendering himself to your desire.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped the hem of your shirt—borrowed from him—and pulled it up over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Cool air kissed your bare skin, you felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his breath hitched made heat pool in your core. 

Next, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your thighs and off, kicking them aside. Now fully naked, you sat there for a beat, feeling his hardness twitch against your bare pussy through his sweatpants. Euijoo's jaw clenched, his chest rising faster. 

“God, angel, you're so fucking beautiful like this…..” he murmured, voice low and rough, but he didn't move, honoring your turn to take charge.

Emboldened by his words, you reached for the edge of his shirt, tugging it upward. He lifted his arms to help, peeling it off and tossing it away, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. 

Your hands moved to his sweatpants, fingers dipping under the elastic to grasp the base of his cock briefly before you pushed the fabric down. He lifted his hips, letting you slide them off along with his boxers, his thick cock coming free, hard and veined, the tip red hot. The first touch of bare skin to skin was electric, a sharp, shared gasp filling the room. 

You paused, staring at it, the sheer size making your throat dry. As it always did when you had sex with him. Yeah you were (sort of) used to the size by now, but oh the feeling of him splitting you open like a walnut? You could never get used to it, even if you got married and had twins with him. But that’s a fantasy for another day.

Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip, feeling him throb under your touch. The skin was hot, velvet over steel, and you marveled at how your fingers barely met around his girth. 

“Shit…” A low groan escaped Euijoo's lips, his head falling back against the pillows. “Nghh—keep doing that, my love…good girl.”

Internally, his mind raced—your sudden boldness, the way you handled him so tentatively yet purposefully, it ignited that side of him no one would ever see, making his cock ache even more. He wanted to flip you over, pin you down, and drive his cock into you, but he held back, savoring your initiative like ice cream on a summer Sunday afternoon.

You stroked him a few more times, thumb swirling over the head to spread the precum, before positioning yourself. Lifting your hips, you guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, the blunt head nudging against your slick folds. 

Well here went all your sanity down a hole.

You remembered the first time you thought ‘oh I’m kinda in love with this guy’. It was a Saturday morning, and as all Saturdays are—romantically lethargic—you’d gotten up at 11 am, to the smell of toast and the outline in the bed where your lover should have been.

You’d found him in the kitchen, a kiss the cook apron wrapped round his waist (you happily obliged the instruction later), the tip of his tongue stuck out and his brows furrowed in concentration as he peeled a pomegranate for you.

His fingers, oh those slender fingers that always knew juuust where to touch and fiddle to have you squirting around them. They were dyed faintly red now, presumably from a few accidental squeezes of the seeds.

Euijoo didn’t even notice you saunter up to the counter, merely picking up another pomegranate and splitting it open and ohhhh

Oh he was splitting you so fucking open.

What the fuck were you even thinking about right now? What was there even left to think about as you sliiidd down on his length, evoking emotions in your head that you were sure only the heavens themselves could explain properly. 

A gasp tore from your throat, turning into a moan as the burn hit—he was so much thicker than you'd remembered from the times when your back would be comfy against the mattress and your body shadowed by his broader frame, filling you in a way that made your walls clench instinctively.

“Oh—nghhh Euijoo!” You whimpered, pausing with just the head inside, your body trembling. How the fuck was he this big?

Euijoo chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate, though his eyes burned with restrained hunger. His hands stayed down, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Easy, my love. You’re doing so well.” He said soothingly, “Breathe, baby—just try again hm?” His voice was soft and encouraging, but inside? Inside he was on fucking fire, the sight of you struggling to fit him was driving him wild, like a wolf to some stray deer in the forest.

You nodded, biting your lip, and tried again, lowering yourself further. The stretch intensified, his cock pushing past the initial resistance, and tears pricked at your eyes. He felt huge, splitting you open, and you'd only had him in one position before, where he controlled the depth. Now, it was all you, and the fullness made you cry out, a sob mixing with your moan as you hovered at just a couple inches in.

“Hah—c-can’t!” You whined, tears spilling over, your hands pressing against his chest for balance, “Too big Ju, I can’t—hmmm….”

Euijoo's chuckle deepened, still gentle, but his cock pulsed inside you, betraying his arousal. He would have been a liar if he said this wasn't the prettiest you’d ever looked, tears like the finishing touches of paint on the masterpiece of your cheeks. 

“Shh my love.” Euijoo consoled you, “My brave girl, so perfect for me. Keep going angel, you can do it.”  He didn't touch you, letting you fight through it, though every fiber of him screamed to thrust up and bury himself deep as deep could be humanly defined. 

Wiping at your tears, you took a shaky breath and sank lower, inch by glorious and oh fucking hell did you mean glorious inch, until you had him halfway in. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched to its limit, and you panted heavily, sweat beading on your skin. 

“Euijoooo…” You pouted down at him, “Help me—hahhh—feel so full…..” You sounded so pathetic, so needy, so damn ready to give up every last bit of your sanity just to make it fit.

It was borderline insane how much you had his composure unravelling so beautifully. Just one word out from the pretty little mouth of yours in that pretty little tone and Euijoo was a gone man. Please, you’d said, his pretty angel asking him so politely. Now who was he to refuse? 

“Oh?” Euijoo said softly, tilting his head, “I thought you wanted to do it on your own, angel.”

“Can’t…” You whined in anguish, “Can’t do it Ju….need your help, please?” 

“Mmhh,” He hummed, pretending to think, “You sure you don’t wanna try on your own, my love?”

You shook your head frantically. He moved a little as he chuckled and you were like a volcano just ready to erupt. His voice was so soft in your ears, his tone so concerned for you and oh your boyfriend was so pretty and his dick was so good, and you were quite honestly about to die. 

“Please, Ju?” You moaned, rocking slightly to ease the pressure, but it only made you feel him more, “Please—just need it in….I promise I’ll do everything—-ah hahhhh—everything else…”

That was his breaking point. ‘Everything else’, oh weren’t you just fucking sugary sweet? Euijoo's hands shot to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with a firm grip.

“Alright, my love.” Euijoo chuckled low, as if he was amused by the gravity of the situation, “Let’s settle you in, hmm?” 

In one swift motion, he yanked you down fully, his cock slamming home where it always belonged, bottoming out inside your tight heat.

The sudden fullness overwhelmed you—every thick inch sheathed to the hilt, pressing against your goddamn cervix—and your body shattered. 

A sharp cry escaped as your orgasm crashed over you, pussy clenching rhythmically around him, waves of pleasure ripping through your core. You came hard just from being filled completely, juices soaking his base as you shuddered atop him.

“Already, my love?” Euijoo held you firmly through it all, those beautiful seconds in utmost heaven. He groaned as he felt you clamp down, holding you seated on his cock, feeling your walls milk him. His eyes darkened with possession, he was so thrilled at how easily you'd knotted out for him.

Your body trembled in the aftershocks of that first orgasm, pussy still spasming around Euijoo's cock as he held you impaled on him, his grip on your hips unyielding but gentle. The fullness was intoxicating, every ridge and vein of him pressed deep inside, making your walls flutter with residual pleasure. You caught your breath, tears drying on your cheeks, and met his gaze—those dark eyes smoldering with a mix of tenderness and raw hunger.

“Good girl.” Euijoo whispered, his thumbs stroking circles over your hipbones, “You took me so well, angel. Now go on—make yourself feel good.” 

His voice was soft, coaxing, but the way his dick twitched inside you betrayed how desperately he craved this, reveling in your submission to the act.

You nodded, a shy smile breaking through as you braced your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under your palms. Lifting your hips experimentally, you rose until just the tip remained inside, then sank back down slowly, an obnoxiously loud moan spilling from your lips at the draaaag of his thickness through your sensitive folds. It wasn't as overwhelming now—the stretch familiarizing itself—but the friction sent sparks up your spine.

It was different from anything before. This was your rhythm, your pace. And you had no idea what to do with this new found power. Maybe get drunk off of it? 

“Oh….Ju….” You breathed, starting a tentative rhythm, rising and falling with shallow bounces. 

Your thighs burned already from the effort, but the pleasure built quickly, your clit grinding against his pubic bone with each descent. You picked up speed, hips rolling in a circle at the bottom, chasing that building heat like a fairy starved of magic dust.

His head tipped back against the pillows, tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief. His breaths became ragged prayers, your name mixed with broken curses and pleas. 

"So good…..fuck, just like that…..my love, my perfect girl..."

Watching him come apart was the most potent aphrodisiac. His usual gentle control was gone, replaced by a raw, desperate vulnerability. You leaned forward, and the change in angle drew a sharp cry from him, his eyes flying open to lock with yours. In their dark depths, you saw it all: awe, adoration, and a surrender so complete it stole your breath.

Euijoo groaned low in his throat, head tipping back as he watched you through half-lidded eyes. “Fuck, yes—ohh nghh—fuck angel, you’re so—ohhh—so fucking perfect.”

He kept his hands light on your hips, guiding without forcing, letting you set the pace. Internally, his blood roared; your boldness, the way your soft moans and whines of his name came, the slick sounds of your pussy swallowing him—it was driving him fucking insane. Euijoo was aching to wreck you.

“Does it feel good?” You asked, voice breathy, leaning forward slightly to kiss his jaw. “Am I……am I doing it right?” You rode him harder, breaths coming in pants, the room filling with the wet slap of skin and your shared moans.

“More than right, my love.” Euijoo rasped, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking your nipple, “Keep going angel, don’t stop.”

His praise spurred you on, and you ground down deeper, faster, wilder, the coil in your belly tightening again. But your legs quivered, muscles fatiguing from the unpracticed motion. You hadn't anticipated how tired you’d get after just a few minutes. How the hell did he do this every other day for you?

After a few more determined thrusts, exhaustion hit like a wave. Your rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as you slumped forward, forehead pressing against his chest, gasping for air.

“Ju…I can’t—too much…” You whimpered, still clenching around him, but your body refused to lift anymore. The fullness kept you on edge, pleasure teetering but not quite tipping over.

“Aww my poor baby—tired alright?” Euijoo's chuckle was dark, affectionate, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. “You’ve been so good for me, my love.” He kissed the top of your head, but his hips shifted beneath you, a subtle flex of his abs. “Just hold on tight for me, yeah?”

Before you could respond, he planted his feet on the mattress and thrust up sharply, his cock driving deep into your core. 

The sudden jolt made you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, bucking up into you with controlled power. Each upward snap, snap, snap, filled you completely, his tip battering that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Fuck—take it for me, my love.” Euijoo’s voice dropped to that arousing timbre he rarely let slip, hands clamping on your ass like magnets to iron to spread you wider for his thrusts. “Hmm—feel that baby? Does that feel good?” 

You could only moan incoherently, body rocking with his movements, pussy stretched and pounded relentlessly. Forget stars, you could see the andromeda galaxy behind your eyelids as they snapped shut to focus on this delicious, delicious experience.

“Euijoo—oh god, yes! Harder, please!” The words tumbled out, desperate, as he railed into you, the bed creaking under the force. 

His control was slipping, unleashed in the way he angled his hips to grind against your clit with every plunge, sweat dripping down his temple.

"Look at you," he whispered, "Look at what you do to me, you beautiful girl."

His hips began to meet yours in a stuttering rhythm. The force of his thrusts, combined with your grinding pace, pushed you both swiftly toward the edge. The world narrowed to the shared gasps for air and the blinding point of friction where your bodies joined.

You could feel your climax building like a tidal wave, the pleasure threatening to consume you whole as a lover consumes the seeds of a pomegranate. Euijoo's thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by your moans and Euijoo's grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Euijoo moaned, his hips snapping in a particularly hard thrust. “Hmm my pretty angel—gonna make you cum aaall over my cock. You want that? Say it.”

"Euijoo!"  You cried out, your back arching. “Yes—please, Ju, make me cum!” You begged, tears of overstimulation pricking your eyes again, the pleasure coiling unbearably tight.

"Cum for me, my love," Euijoo commanded, his voice rough with his own impending release. "Good girl ohhhh fuckkk—thaaat’s it, my love.”

His words pushed you over, and your orgasm shattered, juices soaking the sheets beneath. Your pussy clamped down on Euijoo's cock, milking him for all he was worth.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Euijoo groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. "Yes baby, nghhh…..."

He came with a broken shout, his body arching off the bed as he spilled deep inside you. The feeling of him pulsing within you, so utterly lost to pleasure, triggered your second climax. You wailed his name, body seizing in ecstasy, riding the waves as kept fucking you through it, prolonging the bliss until you were a trembling, boneless mess slumped against him once more.

For long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing slowly returning to normal. Euijoo’s strong arms, still trembling with the aftershocks of his own release, wrapped around you completely. He gathered you against him, turning you gently onto your side so he could press your back flush against his chest. Every inch of his skin was warm and damp, a perfect mirror to your own.

Euijoo nuzzled into the nape of your neck, his breath a soft, calming tide against your sensitive skin. His lips found your temple, pressing a kiss there that was so tender it made your heart ache. Then another on your cheekbone, another just below your ear—a soft, worshipful trail.

“Shhh, my love,” he whispered, his voice a raw, husky rasp that vibrated through you. One hand splayed possessively over your stomach, holding you close, while the other came up to gently brush the sweat-damp hair from your forehead. “My perfect, perfect angel. You were so good. So brave for me.”

He pressed another lingering kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve got you. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, carefully, he shifted. His softening cock slipped from your body with a soft, intimate sound, making you both shudder with a final, gentle aftershock. He didn’t let go for a second. He simply adjusted his hold, rolling you both just enough so you were nestled side-by-side on the messy sheets, facing each other.

His eyes, dark and soft and full of a love so profound it stole your breath, searched yours. His thumb traced the apple of your cheek, wiping away a stray tear of overwhelm.

“Rest now, my love.” Your beloved breathed, “I love you so so much, yeah?” Euijoo leaned in to capture your lips in a chaste kiss—soft and endlessly sweet. 

Byun Euijoo was the love of your life.

Byun Euijoo was yours and you were his and everything was hunky dory in this crazy life. 

And all that was left was to giddy up!

fin. 

A/N: if it wasn't obvious enough, hi i am in love with this man. the day a euijoo giddy up edit comes on my fyp is the day my grave shall be filled. Remember when i said Killshot Baby was my favourite child amongst my fics? Yeah i think giddy up has taken her spot now!

divider by @bonnieknowsbest

&team taglist: @eu1joo @kwnnies @nichozzystuffs @blueuijoo @pglpblm @ikigaijo @leehancore @dearvampyr @riri4andy @tokunodoll @sunsoomi @makizdoll + Shoot me an ask or comment to be added!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"do you want it open or not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nicholas was fucking dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

god, you were fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

you slammed your laptop closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

another sandwich, untouched and resting neatly on a napkin.

you eyed it, suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you knocked once.

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

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

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

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

this angle was better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@wenomakiluvr @guliexe @cheolscherries1812 @jungwonsgff @heesoulnotes

@kjjupilled @xionvlog @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @minhosimthings

@luperque @ikeuholica @nichozzystuffs @s3ungh4nsgf @zzniya

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

@sunoosun00 @tayl82 @bubbletsworld @iluvujo @euijoo1sidechick

# Fuma

wears the cutest pokemon pjm sets and buys one for you too so you can match with him. he will sleep on his back, one arm holding you on his side and against his chest (just imagine those strong muscles around you, oh god😵) still, he feels warm and soft. you will feel so safe in his arms fr.

wakes up early in the morning, like REALLY early. he makes sure to tuck you in under the blanket and leave a kiss on your forehead before leaving the room to go do some chores. will come back hours later and take you into his arms, softly caressing your hair until you wake up naturally. he will greet you with the softest "good morning" and a very sweet kiss.

# Nicholas

clingy asf. he sleeps shirtless, so he will use you as a warmth source. the moment you get in bed, his leg is throw over you, arms around your waist like a big teddy bear. he likes to nuzzle his face on your shoulder and leave little kisses on the skin there. also loves to receive love from you; soft caresses on his arm or small forehead kisses will help him relax and fall asleep faster <3

WON'T wake up in the morning. likes to sleep until late. it's usual for you to find him all curlep up against you, lips slightly parted as he breathes out softly. if you try to wake him up, he will only hold you closer until he decides it's time to start the day.

plus: i think he also likes to be the little spoon, especially when he's too tired or stressed. will even let you play with his hair if he really needs the comfort :(

# Euijoo

i feel like he's not really into cuddling a lot for some reason.. still, he won't deny you if you really want to hug him. he will wrap his arms around you, his grip very gentle, and rub your back to help you get sleepy. also loves to hold your hand, leave kisses on it and nuzzle his nose against your knuckles. i can see him humming some song into your ear just because he knows his voice will help you relax.

sometimes he wakes up before you. when he does, he likes to run his fingers through your hair and just watch you sleep, because he thinks you look so pretty and cute like that. he will be sooo careful with his movements tho in order not to wake you up. the first thing you will see when you finally open your eyes is his pretty perfect smile and slightly blushed cheeks. he's just the biggest sweetheart i swear.

# Yuma

you will be envolved in his arms as soon as you get in bed with him. i swear, that man WON'T let go of you. he's just so cat lol. he's another one who sleeps shirtless so you'll basically be squished against his chest. he can be a little freaky devil so he might slide his hand under your shirt and purposely make you shiver when caressing your skin with his fingertips. i feel like he will also slide his hand under your panties saying "it's just too warm" LOL.

will throw a tantrum if you try to wake him up, turning around and hiding under the blankets like a little kid. he will pout and try to give you the puppy eyes just so you stay with him a little bit more. and ofc you'll find yourself falling for it, who wouldn't?

# Jo

oh he's so lovely and soft. he likes to have your head on his chest as you two watch a movie on his laptop before sleeping. when he notices you've fallen asleep, he will carefully craddle you in his arms and put the blanket around you. he will wrap his arm around your shoulders, hide his face on your hair and just breathe in your scent. he will give you so many kisses while you sleep, since he won't feel as shy as when you're awake.

mornings with him are so quiet. he always whispers "morning..." (with that slightly raspy, deep voice), before kissing your cheek and bringing you in for a hug and some cuddles. he stays in bed for a while, silently scrolling on his phone while playing with your hair with his other hand. if you fall asleep again, sometimes he will join too. he just loves feeling you close.

# Taki

so clingy in a playful way. he will trap you in his arms and shower your face and neck with kisses, all while giggling like crazy. once he starts feeling sleepy tho, he lets his head fall on your chest, a silent request for head pats. he loves feeling your touch against his cheeks or through his hair, it makes him feel so safe. if one day you're feeling down or just need some extra love, he will give you EVERYTHING. hugs, kisses, reassuring... he will even share some snacks with you and listen to whatever you wanna talk about before sleeping. he won't let you go to bed feeling sad. never.

he's actually really responsible and wakes up quite early. he will give you the biggest smile and hug in the morning, just to make sure you start the day with a smile. will cook breakfast for you, just to have the excuse to steal kisses from you at every bite you take.

# Harua

loves to hug something (you) in bed. you two will lay on your sides so you can look at each other's faces while cuddling. he loves talking with you in the darkness of the night. also kisses a lot, giggles everytime he accidentally kisses the tip of your nose instead of your lips. a lot of skinship is also involved; his hands roaming along your hips, thighs, waist... but always in the sweetest, most intimate way.

a bit difficult to wake up, he needs some time to shake off sleep. will burrow himself in your neck to hide from the morning sunlight and will probably end up falling asleep again. or if he wakes up in another mood, will start kissing you there instead, press closer against you until you get the message of what he wants. will do it under the blankets for sure.

# Maki

he doesn't really care how you two sleep, but you mostly end up with your head resting on his arm (biceps🤤). one of his hands will rest in the back of your head or your nape, just so he can push you closer and kiss you whenever he wants. he likes to feel your arm around his torso and interwine your legs together.

you try your best not to look visibly flustered. three years in, and he still makes butterflies erupt in your stomach with just a few words. “thanks, baby. help me choose my necklace?”

“sure. turn around for me.”

from the upward curve of his lips and the glint in his eyes, you should’ve seen it coming—but still, he manages to take you by surprise as you turn around to face him and are instantly met with his lips to yours.

“yudai!” you say, trying to sound chiding only laughing. “i spent so long on my lip combo,” you whine, turning back around to check your makeup in the mirror. you’re good to do your lips all over. 

“sorry, baby.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “you just looked too good, couldn’t help myself. here,” he says, reaching with a thumb, presumably to wipe your smudged lipstick—only to press his lips to yours once more.

fuma

you’re finishing up your makeup in front of the bathroom mirror when your boyfriend walks in. he seems only to be here to fetch something—but when he sees you, he changes his plans, coming up stand behind you instead, hands firm on your hips as he starts to press kisses to the side of your neck. you sigh, half letting yourself melt into his touch, half aware you have plans you’re going to be late for if you let him have his way.

“what did i do to deserve you, hm? i must’ve saved the country in a past life,” he hums against your skin. 

“don’t distract me, fuma. i need to do my lip combo.”

“hm? i’m not doing anything,” he says, pressing himself closer to you, arms coming to wrap around your waist.

you swear you feel something hard against your lower back. “fuma,” you say, your tone a warning—as much for him as for you.

“what can i do when my baby looks this good?”

“you can keep it in your pants,” you bite back, making him laugh.

you manage to ignore him until you’ve applied your lip gloss. you pop your lips, proud of your work, then turn around. “okay, i’m ready to—” you’re cut off by your boyfriend’s mouth on yours.

you’re just a girl—when fuma’s lips move against yours like this, so messy and desperate like he couldn’t wait a second longer, your lower back pressed against the sink, you can’t help but kiss him back.

“we’re gonna be late,” you mutter weakly.

“they can wait,” he says, pulling you into another kiss.

nicholas

“all this? for a girl’s night?” your boyfriend asks, sitting up on your shared bed.

“yes, nicho, all this.” you ignore his pouting—you’ve had this conversation countless times already.

putting his phone down on the pillow next to him with more force than needed, he crawls over to you, sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at your reflection in the mirror. “what do you need to look so good for?”

“it makes me feel confident. we’ve been over this.”

“you’d make a trash bag look sexy, baby.”

you sigh, picking up your lipstick. “that’s nice of you to say, angel. but i’m not wearing a trash bag to the club.”

with a discontented sigh, he gets up from the bed and wraps his arm around your neck from behind your, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. that’s nicholas for you—always needy when it’s least convenient for you. “careful, baby,” you say gently. “i’m doing my lipstick.”

“i hate knowing other guys are going to see you like this.”

“who cares about other guys when it’s you i’m coming home to,” you say, probably word for word from the last time you went out without him. you’re coming off annoyed, but really, you love seeing him like this.

“i’m gonna miss you tonight,” he says, kissing your bare shoulder. it makes you shiver—he smirks at you in the mirror, fully aware of what he’s doing.

“i thought euijoo was coming over?” you ask, trying to keep your tone steady as your boyfriend kisses up your neck.

he hums. “still gonna miss you.”

then, without warning, he presses his lips to yours. “nicho!” you exclaim, leaning back. his grin is wicked as you check your reflection. “i’m gonna have to do my lip combo all over again.”

“fix it, baby. i’ll mess it up again.”

euijoo

you’re leaning toward the mirror, lips parted in concentration as you finish your makeup. euijoo has been watching from the doorway for a small while, arms crossed over his chest, a small, adoring smile on his lips. “you almost ready to go, baby?” he asks softly.

you nod. “yeah, just a minute.” you’re meeting his parents for the first time tonight at a fancy restaurant, and you want to make the best first impression possible. you’ve put it in your mind that your makeup needs to be perfect to do that. “do i look okay?” you ask, smoothing out your dress anxiously.

in a few steps, euijoo has crossed the distance between you, and plants himself behind you, one hand on your waist, the other brushing your hair behind your shoulder. he leans down to press a kiss to the crook of your neck. “you look gorgeous, as always. what are you so nervous about? i’ve only told them great things about you, they’ll love you.”

“i know, i just—i want them to think i’m worthy of you.”

he laughs light-heartedly. “worthy? baby, by the end of the evening they’ll probably wonder how i got you to date me.”

you pout, slowly letting yourself be soothed by your boyfriend’s words and gentle demeanor. “you really think?”

“of course. what can i do to ease your nerves?”

you recognize that tone—he wants something he won’t outright ask you for. but even if he doesn’t care, you won’t be late for your dinner plans. so instead of letting yourself melt into his touch, you offer your cheek to him. it’ll have to do for now.

euijoo smiles, pressing his soft lips to your cheek, and the simple touch has you relaxing already. but he presses another one, and another, progressively getting closer to your mouth—”not my lips, baby. i don’t want to mess up my lipstick.”

his lips find the corner of yours, and when he leans back, a little lip gloss shines on the corner of his lips. you shake your head, lightly admonishing him as you wipe the makeup up with your thumb. “juju…” 

he only gazes down fondly at you. “you’re perfect,” he muses.

yuma

after months of being with yuma, you should know that whatever you tell him not to do, he’ll take as a challenge to do. really, it’s your fault for telling him not to distract you while you’re doing your makeup, and not to kiss you after you’ve applied your lipstick. you even give him a minute to get it all out of his system—but it only does the opposite. after the kiss, he’s even needier, clingy as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly, burying his face in your hair.

“don’t go,” he mumbles.

“it’s for work, baby, i don’t have a choice.”

“i can’t just kiss you for a minute,” he whines. “it’s not nearly enough.”

“you’ll have all the time you need when i come back, okay?”

he frowns at you in the mirror—changing his strategy from whiny to upset? in any case, it doesn’t work. you ignore his glare as you apply your lipgloss. he plants kisses along your neck, your jawline, but every time he tries to get near your lips, you lean away.

he huffs. “what’s the point of having lips so pretty if your boyfriend can’t even kiss them?”

“the one time i ask you not to kiss me, i swear,” you mumble. “you’re not going to die.”

he rests his hand on his heart, fakes a pained expression. “i just might.”

you push him away with your hip, tell him to leave you alone—you’re surprised when he actually does. he’s waiting for you in the hallway when you’re done. you think that maybe he’s matured when he helps you slip on the shoes he picked out for you, and are about to thank him when he stands and, before you can react, traps your lips in a kiss. not even just a peck that won’t do too much damage—a full-on mess of a kiss, tongue and all, his hands firm on your hips so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

when he leans back, his grin is wickedly smug. “uh-oh, baby. i think you’re gonna have to redo your lipstick.”

jo

if you explicitly tell him not to, your perfect baby never messes up your makeup. he saw how long it took you to get your lip combo perfect before the party, so when you tell him, “no kisses, tonight,” he follows that rule to a tee.

it doesn’t mean he’s not desperate to kiss you, though. as you get ready together, he has to content himself with pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead, and stops himself from pouting when you can’t reciprocate. during the party, his eyes keep drifting to the lipstick staining the rim of your cup, and he’s always ready to wipe a smudge if you mess up your makeup while eating. he has the self-restraint of a saint when you use him instead of a mirror to reapply your lipgloss, dumbly nodding when you ask him whether it looks okay.

after the party, as you’re waiting outside for your uber, his jacket around your shoulders, he briefly wonders whether he should wait until you get home, then decides against it. you look so cute, slightly swaying on your feet from the wine you drank, a contented smile on your face, your hand warm in his. “can i kiss you, y/n?” he asks softly. you nod happily.

the feeling of his lips on yours is such a relief after waiting all night for it. by the time your uber arrives, he’s wearing as much lipstick as you are.

harua

“okay, baby, i’m off,” you call from the hallway, slipping on your shoes.

from his position on the couch, harua perks up. “aren’t you forgetting something?”

you look inside your purse. keys, phone, wallet. “nope, i’m all good.”

he frowns, then makes his way to you. arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, he says, “you sure about that?”

your features relax into a smile. “baby, i’m sorry, i can’t kiss you. i spent too long on this lip combo to mess it up.”

your boyfriend is unimpressed. he glares at you without a word.

you walk up to him, ruffle his hair. “i’ll give you all the kisses you want when i get home, okay?”

clearly, this isn’t good enough an offer. too quickly for you to react, he leans in, presses his lips to yours firmly. then, with a huff, he walks back to the couch. you check your lips in your front camera—the damage’s been done.

“haru!”

when you look at him, there’s a small smirk playing on his lips. you’d be mad at him if he wasn’t so adorable. “have fun, angel,” he says, plopping some chips inside his mouth.

taki

the entire time you’ve been getting ready, your boyfriend has been gazing longingly at you like a lovesick puppy. it’d be distracting if you weren’t so used to it—rare are the moments you spend together when at least his hands or his eyes aren’t on you. from when you chose your outfit to now, as you’re sitting at your vanity, lips parted as you apply your liner, he’s been laying on your shared bed, staring at you like you hung the stars in the night sky.

he’s been quiet this entire time, so when he starts making his way to you, telling you how pretty you look, you know he’s up to no good. before he’s even touched you, you warn, “taki, don’t. the tutor is so strict, i can’t be late for this class.”

“who said anything about making you late?” he asks, a playful smirk on his lips as his hands find your shoulders, your hair. he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “i just wanted to admire you from up close.”

“you can do that without bothering me.”

he looks at you like a wounded puppy. you roll your eyes—you know taki isn’t really offended, he just likes to pretend he is so you’ll baby him. “fine. one kiss, okay? just one. and on my cheek.”

you shouldn’t have been so trusting. your boyfriend holds your head steady as he plants his kiss to your cheek, but of course, he doesn’t stop there. as you try to squirm away from him, he peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, your chin, your nose, your forehead, and, eventually, your lips. 

he grins proudly, admiring his work in the mirror—the lip gloss on his lips, the smudges around yours. “thanks a lot, taki,” you mumble.

“the pleasure is all mine, babe.”

maki

you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap in front of your vanity as you apply the final traces of lipstick for you lip combo. you’re both staring at your reflection in the mirror, you in concentration, him in quiet, lovesick adoration. you’re apart for one evening and he’s acting like it’s the end of the world. his big arms feel warm and reassuring around your body, his chin a welcome weight on your shoulder, but if you told him how much harder he’s making it to go out without him, he’d find a million reasons for you to stay in. however, you can’t bail on bottomless brunch with your girls.

“i get that girlhood is important and all, but surely us boyfriends could tag along once in a while?” he mumbles, pouting against your shoulder.

you smile. “we can’t gossip about you guys if you’re here.”

he gasps dramatically. “you gossip about me? what do you say?”

you ignore him as you lean forward, admiring your work. satisfied with yourself, you shift on maki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “how do i look?”

his features soften into a fond smile. “perfect, baby.”

when he leans in for a kiss, you tut at him. “nuh-uh. i’m not letting you mess up my lip combo.”

he raises an eyebrow. “oh?”

suddenly, his hold on you tightens—you try to squirm out of his arms, but he’s too strong for you. “no! maki!” you exclaim, giggling. 

he peppers kisses all over your lips, and by the time he’s done, there’s more lipstick on his lips than on yours. you sigh as you check your makeup in the mirror. “great, i have to do it all over again now.”