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After an aching heartbreak, you force yourself to continue on normally. Refusing to let him interfere with your business- especially since your meetings usually involved a certain medic.
Though it seems the medic in question is bargaining for more than just supplies.
!! EJ x GN! Reader !!
-> Jack is the father who stepped up what can I say ->
Previous pt here <<
Divider by @neosprites
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— ^ ^ —
“You’re spacing out again.”
Jack’s words made you blink back to life, and you quickly cleared your throat. “Sorry- I didn’t sleep well.” Apologetic, you simpered.
Medical tools were strewn across the desk, gauze wrap still organized in its rightful boxes. You and Jack had a monthly agreement- he’d visit with bandages and new blades in trade for unmarked pills.
Medication you’d bought off shady sites and over-the-counter pain killers that weren’t available to him in exchange for his instruments and knowledge.
It had been a full month since you’d seen Jeff.
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.
Synopsis : Asking your sweet boyfriend if you could ride his cock for the first time.
Pairing: bf!Euijoo x fem!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, cock riding, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you dumbass), dry humping, big dih euijoo, dom!euijoo, sub!reader, MANHANDLING FUCK YEAH, overstimulation, euijoo lowkey a masochist freak
A/N: oh hello there dearest reader. Now you might ask, mona what a lovely surprise that you wrote cock riding for euijoo! like we would never have imagined that you'd write one of your favourite positions for one of your favourite men. And to that my dearest reader I say why of course. of course this is the most self indulgent fic I have written and will ever write in the centuries to come. As always, enjoy, my darlings!
Word Count: 6.4k (i am sane)
Byun Euijoo was the love of your life.
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!
in which your boyfriend doesn't care how long you spent on your lip combo ♡ requested by @elisa21sstuff—i ended up making it more suggestive more than smutty, hope that's okay with you and you like it!!
yudai
your boyfriend stops dead in his tracks when he walks into your shared bedroom and sees you. you’re standing in front of the mirror, debating between two necklaces to go with your outfit for tonight’s date. he’s taking you to an upscale restaurant and you want to look your best.
you side-eye him but say nothing as he makes his slow way over to you, a smirk on his lips. he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on top of your head, making your bodies sway lightly from side to side. “you look beautiful,” he says, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “and all mine.”
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.”
he’s grinning wickedly, returning to his position with his chin on your shoulder like he hasn’t done anything. “and i get one more minute with you.”
e. jack... whose been out on missions far too often as of late. however, even after a long day of working under the operator and dealing with jeff's constant annoyance, he makes sure to pick up your favorite food.
e. jack... who rushes home, heart aching at the thought of you asleep on the couch. he can imagine it. you're probably curled up in his blanket, waiting for his sorry ass to come home and cuddle you...
e. jack... who silent steps into your shared home, quickly re-latching the rusted, silver, apartment key to the hand-made (crafted lovingly by you) chain around his neck.
e. jack... who, practically melts as soon as he steps into the apartment, any and all tension he had accumulated disapating once in your presence. he immediately kicks his heavy snow boots off, gently placing them next to your fuzzy slippers before entering the kitchen.
e. jack... who, even in the deep hours of the night, still takes time to notice all that you do for him- including leaving him a cup of warm black tea, topped with a loving splash of honey. it was neatly placed on a pretty lavender tea set, one he had bought stolen from a small antique store you had mentioned.
e. jack... who notices a small sticky note laying next to the teacup. on it was a small drawing of the two of you holding hands, with text reading, "i hope you had a good day at work jackie! love u, mwah." while he wishes he didnt have any responsibilities, he would miss the sweet letters you wrote him.
e. jack... whose heart may finally give in when he notices you asleep on the couch. specifically on the armchair he claimed as his spot. you were curled up in one of his shirts, legs bare and wrapped around his pillow- looking as soft as an angel.
e. jack... who slips in behind you, body twisting to meld with yours, a clawed hand curling around your mid section. his hips are slotted against your ass, as close and comfortable as can be. he buries his nose in your neck, inhaling deeply with a soft purr.
eyeless jack... who wishes for this moment to never end.
this was so indulgent. anyway bello crp fandom, ive been in love w/ you since I was 6....
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synopsis | your university's hot literature professor has made it his mission to make your life hell, and you're determined to find out why.
details | professor!euijoo x female!reader, reader is a teaching assistant & consenting adult, gendered terms (ma'am, girl, etc.), 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, bff!yuma, exhibitionism, masturbation, reader is a bit of a peeping tom, muppets mention, cursing, you might actually learn something from this, horny poetry, soft dom!joo, thigh riding, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT WRAP IT WRAP IT), creampie, no use of y/n, lowercase intended
wc | 12.2k
from the author | who else is excited to stop Hearing about this
“could you hand me that pen?”
you didnt even realize you were zoning out; it was just so boring. as a teaching assistant, you’d already taken this introductory seminar and several like it. and the classrooms were all the same, set up auditorium-style with mounted desks on risers that went so far back that you couldn’t even tell if the students were awake or not. nine times out of ten, they were not. it felt like the backrooms, an endless stretch of repeating white brick and gray carpet. add on the bright white flash of the projector casting the bottom left corner of the screen directly into your eyes and there you had it: a recipe for zoning the fuck out for three hours.
but when you looked up, professor byun had his hand outstretched to you, a patient smile etched onto his face. that’s really all it took to snap you back into yourself. the pen seemed to turn to liquid as you grabbed for it, fumbling over your own fingers. silence settled over the lecture hall like fog, the shrill scraping of the pen’s plastic casing on your wooden desk the only sound louder than your heartbeat climbing to your ears. you handed it to him, finally, mouthing sorry as he plucked it from your fingertips. it was quite literally your only job to hand him pens or paper or whatever he might need while he was teaching. that was the job description, but you’d had the longest week of your life, and professor byun’s 8 am literary studies seminar was the tired, dreary cherry on top.
one thing you could always appreciate about your supervisor, or mentor as he so graciously asked you to call him, was his grace. he was incredibly young, only a few years older than you, so he still knew how draining it was to be in your position. you’d applied to graduate school with the hopes of being in professor byun’s exact same position one day, droning on and on about your favorite subject matter and forcing forty-ish people to listen, or at least pretend to listen, to you ramble for three hours twice a week. so, he was very open to taking you under his wing as his teaching assistant at the beginning of the semester. you didn’t account for how distracting it would be from your studies, though, to work alongside a hot literature nerd.
byun euijoo was a sight for sore, tired eyes. he loomed over almost everyone, shoulders broad and accentuated most days by a padded blazer. he wore thin framed glasses on the slope of his nose, the tops of which were covered, usually, by a wisped veil of brown hair, ends curling and flipping up at the base of his neck. everything about him was good; his face was sweet and soft, especially when he would smile, accentuating the supple curve of his cheeks. not to mention the warmth of his eyes, round and inviting. yet, it was so difficult to maintain eye contact with him for too long, his gaze too expectant, too hopeful. it made you sick. even when he grabbed the pen from you under the judgemental stares of his students, his stare was forgiving. dont sweat it, he scrunched his eyes in a subtle smile, brows furrowed, understanding.
the lecture wrapped up after what felt like days. the past two weeks had been dedicated to different literary critics, which was simply old news to you. there was no harm in a refresher course in post-structuralism, but, unfortunately, not even byun euijoo could have made that class interesting. you had already been grappling with your own instability. and apparently it was evident.
“are you doing alright?” professor byun asked as the last of the students filed out of the lecture hall. their conversations buzzed until the chatter fizzled out into a dull silence. you had started shoving your own belongings into your bag, noticing the pen you handed him earlier roll across the table, gradually slowing to a halt as he added, “you seemed a bit out of it today.”
even as he leaned, casually, against the desk, you felt like the room was closing in on you. he had traded his blazer for a light, knit cardigan that draped over his shoulders, held closed by two buttons in the center. he looked effortlessly casual, stark next to your half-assed attempts at professional attire. everyday was a struggle to look twenty something, having had too many students call you “ma’am” when you handed them their graded papers back. somehow only byun euijoo, highly regarded literature professor, could wear jeans and a cardigan and still look like the most respected person in the room.
“oh, yeah. sorry,” you slipped your bag onto your shoulder, using the heaving motion to put some space between the two of you. it was rare that he lingered post-lecture, usually running off to another class or do whatever in his office from noon to dusk. you’d never seen office hours run an entire afternoon, but apparently that’s what happened when people cared about your opinion and actually wanted to meet with you; you just had to sit in your office for an entire day. no wonder he was sticking around today. “i’m just tired. i’m pretty sure my roommate is conducting unauthorized sleep studies on me for a project.”
like in a dream, he raised both eyebrows at your theory, lips pressing into a thin smile. you didn’t need to tell him all of that, but he seemed to appreciate the honesty. he nodded, “yeah, that,” he laughed, “that sounds less than ideal.”
“but it’s due soon,” you quickly added, “so i should be back in action later this week. up and at ‘em. ready to, you know, hand you the pen and stuff.” if there were ever a perfect time to stop talking, it would have been thirty-five seconds ago. it actually would have been several minutes ago, immediately following his simple and polite, “yes” or “no” question. there was no version of that conversation that ended with embarrassment. i’m just stressed, you should have said, thanks. because what graduate student wasn’t stressed?
professor byun nodded, the motion tousling his hair over his forehead. “well, good,” he feigned a serious, stern expression, “i need my pen.” you could’t help but smile, just a tad, as he was so damn charismatic. he pushed himself off the table in a swift, smooth motion and held his hand up, hesitating for a moment like he was going to clap you on the shoulder. a reassuring gesture, surely, but instead of following through, he flipped his arm over, checking his watch. he pushed his glasses up on his nose, scrunching it awkwardly. “let me know if i can do anything for you, okay? i mean it.”
“sure,” you gave him a small smile as he slipped through the gap between you and the whiteboard behind you. his cologne wafted over you in a swift gust, sweet and warm. “thank you, professor byun.”
he suddenly stopped in his path to the door, broad shoulders slumping. he reminded you, urged you, “i told you not to call me that. call me euijoo, please.”
euijoo. the name was sweet, like him. or at least the version of him you made up; the one that sipped his coffee at the boiling point in a graphic t-shirt every morning; the one that preferred cats despite wanting a dog, a big one with scary, human-like eyes; the one that practiced eye contact in the mirror while he brushed his teeth because no one was naturally that attentive. sure, you could call him that. you could call him by his name, informally, no problem. you were essentially equals; he was only a few years older than you, but it always felt kind of weird to refer to him as professor, especially since he wasn’t even your professor. you always erred on the side of caution, though, careful not to offend or insult him.
“oh, one more thing!” before you could confirm or deny his request, he spoke again, this time raking a hand down the side of his hair, smoothing it awkardly, “could you get those exams from last week graded?”
“sure thing,” no, i have a life, “I’ve already started them,” i havent touched them, “I’ll drop them off later during your office hours, if that’s okay?” im going to disappear and then youll never know that half your students dont know the difference between feminist and queer theory.
“yeah,” euijoo breathed, unsure. he adjusted his glasses again, glancing at his watch before nodding, “yeah, that should be fine. i’ll be in a meeting until 2, but you can stop by any time after that.”
almost too eagerly, you agreed, “you got it!”
and as euijoo left the lecture hall, you realized just how much shit you had to do. you wiped down the whiteboard, which euijoo never did before he ended class, simply content with leaving his little notes and concept headings scribbled for the next professor to deal with. but you had some respect for other people’s time. you logged him out of the room’s computer, turning off the projector in the process, and shut all the lights down before leaving the lecture hall yourself. the stack of fifty-something ungraded exams pulled you down, a weight on your shoulder and your mind.
“hi, professor byun. im having some problems understanding the material for the upcoming exam. what’s the main difference between derrida and barthes’ concepts of post structuralism?”
your sandwich remained neglected in its plastic container next to you, accompanied only by the fountain drink you’d treated yourself to. condensation trickled down the cup in steady rivulets and pooled around the base in a ring. when you picked it up to take a sip, water dribbled across your laptop's keyboard. you wiped it clean with your shirt sleeve as you finished reading the email from one of the students in the literary seminar. you asked, “what do i even say to this? read the textbook, review the slides, make it up? you can basically just make it up.”
“yeah, i dont know what the fuck any of that means,” yuma took an obnoxious bite of his lunch, doing absolutely nothing to console you in your stressed state, which, according to what you told euijoo, was completely his fault. he agreed to meet you for lunch, even offering to pay for your sandwich, under the condition that you would look over his lab report- the sleep study. “sounds like something i’d ask if i were really distracted during class and wanted some extra help.”
yuma punctuated his statement with a concerning number of eyebrow raises, his tongue poking out from a mischievous grin. you rolled your eyes, “funny.” you should have known better than to ask yuma any kind of serious question. you’d been friends with him long enough to know that he would explode if he missed the opportunity to turn a pressing situation into a punchline for a dirty joke. and you had lived with him long enough to know that his flirty personality worked very well for him. but you couldn’t entertain his shenanigans. not today. “what’s worse is i dont even think he covered that this week. is that even supposed to be on the exam?”
the campus dining hall was starting to get crowded, undergraduate students getting out of their noon classes and coming straight to fuel their brains. everything that wasnt fast food was grotesquely overpriced, so you were thankful for yuma’s wallet. you dreaded having to look over his paper, though, the title page mocking you atop the stack of exams you had yet to grade. it was as though it had eyes, staring right through you. the last thing you needed was to know what your body did while you were sleeping. that was, quite frankly, none of your business. in hindsight, it wasn’t yuma’s either. you hated the idea of him standing at the foot of your bed with a clipboard throughout the night, marking when you snored, taking your pulse with two clammy fingers, and shining his phone flashlight in your eyes. research is research.
“do you think he knows he’s hot?” yuma asked, pushing the last of his lunch around in the bottom of his cardboard to-go box. you had tried for many years to learn the way yuma’s brain worked, but it became clear very quickly that there would never be any way to predict what he would say next. he was genuinely curious, and, honestly, so were you. you thought back to that morning, the frantic apologies he muttered every time the computer buffered and took longer than anticipated to load whatever he was projecting onto the board. he was a little bit late, and none of the students even looked up from their phones when he walked through the door- only you did that.
“definitely not,” you closed your laptop, having sent a reply to the student’s email that just said, in typical, effortless byun euijoo fashion, please refer to the class notes. you shoved the device into your bag and scooted the stack of papers toward you. “hes got, like, clark kent vibes, and clark was famously not hot. it was his whole thing.”
only clark kent, much like euijoo, was hot; he was just awkward, hunching over and diminishing himself to blend in. you wondered if euijoo was doing that, too, if euijoo was hiding something, like a superpower. or a secret.
“you just have a thing for cardigans. a hot nerd in a cardigan is gonna do it for you every time,” yuma shrugged before reaching his hands across the table, gently taking your hand between his, “its sick. you need to talk to someone, seriously.” you pulled your hand away and swatted at him, narrowing your eyes. yuma put his hands up, palms out defensively, “i’m just saying, damn.”
“i can’t even joke with you right now, yuma,” you pressed your fingers to your temples, blocking him out in every possible way as you squeezed your eyes closed, “i have so much to do.”
yuma flipped through the corner of the stack of papers, as if he were counting all fifty of them. he raised his brows, whistling for effect, “yeah, dr. murata just makes me click the slides for him and grab his shit from the printer.”
like you, yuma was a teaching assistant, only his supervising faculty member for the psychology program’s introductory seminar was more experienced, less hands on with his mentoring. in some ways, you were grateful that euijoo was giving you some genuine experience with planning and grading rather than just leading discussions. yuma wasn’t getting any of that. in fact, it seemed as though your dynamic with euijoo was similar to yuma’s with dr. murata, only inverted. you constructed the lesson plans, graded the exams, took attendance, handed out supplemental lecture materials, recorded discussion participation, and answered all of the emails about the class, all while professor byun stood in all his professional glory behind the computer and clicked away. slide 1, slide 2, could you hand me that pen?
but, it was fine; you signed up for this, for running errands and buying him water from the vending machine and grabbing his shit from the printer. it would make you a better educator in the future, surely.
you had just flipped open yuma’s draft and began glancing over the introductory section when yuma reached back over the table and snatched it from the top of the stack. “don’t waste your time with this,” he sighed, giving you a pitiful look, “i wrote it, so its gotta be good. this,” yuma motioned to you, just in general, blinking rapidly, “this is bad.”
“well, thanks,” you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at him once, then twice, just to see if he would backtrack at all. as expected, he did not. instead, he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders, crumbling his napkin from lunch up in his fist and stuffing it into his pocket. yuma kissed his fingertips and cast the gesture toward you- a blessing.
“see you at home,” he shouted over his shoulder as he left the dining hall, as he left you with euijoo’s papers and euijoo’s emails and your uneaten sandwich and your very, very wet cup of soda.
it took you all of three hours to finish grading the stack of exams, complete with marginal feedback and brief comments on the essay questions at the end of each test. you were already exhausted, but the repetitive marking and circling and scribbling nice! next to every half-assed analysis sucked the rest of your energy out of you through a short straw. you had wanted to drop the stack off in euijoo’s office, just as he asked, and go straight home. maybe yuma would have started cooking something, and maybe he would have even saved you a plate knowing how miserable you were earlier. maybe. but none of that mattered when euijoo asked you, “did you bring the lesson plans for next unit?”
you stood, confused, in the middle of his office. you’d been in there a dozen times, always observant of which books were missing from his shelves, which books were strewn about on his desk and stuffed full of sticky notes and highlighter ink. you wondered how he could even see in the dim lighting, the only source the small table lamp on his desk. he was a collector of things, memories, like the stack of receipts he would use as bookmarks.
you furrowed your eyebrows, reaching into your bag aimlessly, “sorry, i don’t remember you asking for those yet.”
“hm, i must have forgot,” euijoo leaned back in his chair, one of those really nice, vintage leather ones. he crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his cardigan pulling taut against his forearms, riding up to reveal the delicate skin of his wrist. you thought about what yuma had said. you really did have a problem. he worked his lips into a fine line, thinking as he studied the obvious hesitance on your face. he sat up straight, clearing off a space on his desk in front of him, “you know what? don’t even worry about it.”
“are you sure?” you blinked back your surprise. the smile he gave you was laced with something, you were sure of it. euijoo shrugged it off, as if doing his work that he was paid to do was somehow a favor to you. it felt like it, though. it also felt like a test, like a trial you were supposed to overcome.
“positive,” he asserted, said as if there were no other obvious option, “you should go home and get some sleep, yeah?”
yeah, you should have done that. you should have agreed with a nod, turned heel, and went directly home. but there was something about him that kept pulling you in against all rationale, against all reasoning. you noticed that his eyes dragged a little too far down your face when you spoke, tracing your lips. sometimes his gaze kept going, falling down your neck and further. you chocked it up as being a product of yuma’s delusions; you were imagining things because yuma kept giving you things to imagine. he’s testing your boundaries, yuma had mentioned, its his way of seeing how far you’ll let him go. and in some ways, that made sense. euijoo just kept adding extra duties to your workload. how far would he take it? how far would you let him?
evidently, the limit did not exist. because you went straight from his office, where he looked you up and down and gave you the evening off, to the library, where you opened up a template and began constructing the lesson plans for next unit that he didnt ask you to do but pretty much wanted you to do. and you were nothing if not a people pleaser, an overachiever, and an ass kisser. and you were kissing his ass big time. you had curled up in the corner of the library for an additional two hours, racing the sunlight so as to not be traipsing around on campus after dark but to no avail. the streetlamps on the sidewalk corners stirred to life as soon as you collected the lesson plans from the library printer, peering in at you through the windows. they were taunting you, mocking your attempt to earn brownie points with euijoo. all for what? a letter of recommendation? was he even qualified to write those?
the walk back to his office was the same as before, just with slightly more dread involved and less daylight to reveal the jagged cracks and dips in the sidewalk. the staircase was just as humid. the hallway that housed the faculty offices was dim, too. the department professors and staff had already packed up and went home for the evening. like you should have. their doors were closed, little personalized signs and posters and corkboards adorning them. as you shuffled down the tight tunnel of a hall, you noticed that euijoo’s door was now closed, when earlier it had been propped wide open to reveal his somewhat messy but nonetheless impressively organized bookshelves and desk. the papers grew heavy in your hands, the ink no doubt smearing under the pads of your clammy fingers, as you stopped in front of his office door.
byun euijoo, the little black plaque stared back at you, assistant professor. and beneath it, scrawled on a notecard and taped haphazardly to the dark oak: please knock!
it was worth a try; if he wasn’t in, you’d simply bring everything with you to his class next week, or you’d try again tomorrow. embarrassment flooded your cheeks at the idea of knocking on a door to an empty room. you couldnt decide if you wanted him to be in there or not, if it would be less humiliating to present the lesson plans a few days later rather than a few hours. the latter screamed, hey, im desperate for your approval and i think youre weirdly hot! maybe not the second part, but certainly the first. perhaps he would find it endearing that you dedicated your entire thursday to doing his job for him. wait, was byun euijoo an asshole?
surely, not, right?
there was only one way to find out, to really know what boundaries he had silently set for your workload. there was only one way to know if he would appreciate your hard work or think you were a freak, or a loser, or just desperate. or some pathetic combination of all three, which was honestly the most likely option. regardless, you lifted your hand, tucking your thumb into your fist for maximum knocking efficiency. the plan was three solid raps, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to disturb anyone who might still be lingering, but your knuckles never made it to the door, frozen in mid air and still balled up. you heard something on the other side. and you tried not to make a habit of eavesdropping, but sometimes the situation called for it.
this was one of those situations, and “eavesdropping” is a generous term, for what you were doing was not eavesdropping but merely standing on the other side of a closed door, acutely aware of your surroundings and attentive to every movement and sound around you, including the noises seeping from beneath euijoo’s office door: a hiss through closed teeth, an uneven rustling of cloth, the fervent but faint creaking of a desk chair- it sounded like he had knocked over a cup of fresh, hot coffee, the liquid searing into his skin.
“fuck,” he dragged, barely under his breath, voice low but not low enough. either the coffee was really hot, or you were hearing something you were never meant to, something private, something you had shamefully imagined a few times when your mind would wander while he lectured. you’d watched his slender fingers coil around the whiteboard markers, scrawling who-knows-what in unreadable handwriting, tendons flexing, wrist stiff. now, you could hear the slick, ceaseless movement of his hand, coiled around his cock instead.
your face grew hot, blood pumping from your racing heart. you hated the way your mouth watered, how your neck angled your head just enough to press your ear closer to the door. you were close enough to hear the stifled moans that lodged behind his lips, escaping only in sighs and grunts, as if he were clearing his throat. it could have sounded ordinary if not for the occasional hum or hiss, the kind only someone drunk on their own pleasure would let slip. you imagined him, head thrown back and resting on the leather of his chair, his throat working as he gulped down his whines and curses like a steady trickle of water. you imagined him, chest rising and rarely falling in the dim light of the room as his hand dragged the length of his cock in desperate strokes, until he couldnt take it anymore. his breathing grew faster, and your clammy hands grew weaker, and you should have known this would happen to you.
you should have known the paper on the bottom of the stack of lesson plans you were holding would slip right out of your hands and sweep, incriminatingly, through the inch of space between the vintage flooring and the door to his office, which was closed for a reason. there was no denying yourself, now. so, you knocked, rapidly and perhaps too eagerly to compensate for the cold sweep of dread that mixed with the hot pool of shame in your gut, like the start of a summer storm. shit, shit, shit, the voice in your head chanted while every part of your body burned, trembling as you heard him scramble on the other side of the door.
there was a stillness followed by a choked, startled noise. he cleared his throat, for real this time, and shouted, “coming! er- i mean. one second!” there was a breathless quality to his voice that, unfortunately for you, made your thighs clench and your face heat up. you should have just turned and left, and you probably would have if not for the incriminating paper on the other side of the door. he would have known that you were there, and leaving would only be more suspicious. at least now you could defend yourself. no, professor byun. i wasn’t eavesdropping on you beating your shit crazy style. i would never, ever, ever even consider doing that. but as you heard the buckling of a belt, the shifting of his chair, and the deep, recovering sigh, it was nearly explicit what you had been doing.
the door swung open, the gust rustling the paper on the floor behind him and blowing loose pieces of his hair, no longer carefully arranged to look naturally messy but genuinely messy. he had abandoned his cardigan, leaving only a faintly wrinkled white tee clinging to his shoulders. his face and neck were flushed dark pink, veins pulsing on the side of his throat. euijoo gulped when he saw you standing there, clutching the paper close to your chest. you knew you looked guilty; you could tell by the way his ears stayed red as he asked you, “what… what are you doing here?”
“lesson plans,” you held them out, arms straight, “i went ahead and did them and, uh, thought i’d drop them off.”
“oh,” euijoo wiped his hands on the front of his pants, quickly and inconspicuously, before taking the stack from you and holding them comfortably in one hand, “i thought i said i would do them, hm?” euijoo feathered through the papers, looking over them, inspecting them.
no, you wanted to say, you said ‘dont worry about it,’ meaning i’d be doing them next week anyway. but instead, you feigned an innocent confusion, quirking an eyebrow all the way to the ceiling, “did you? i guess i misheard you. plus, i had the time! it was no trouble at all.” your smile was sweet, convincing.
but euijoo’s wasn’t either of those things. in fact, it was barely a smile, bordering on a smirk, one that said he knew everything. he held your gaze for a beat too long, maybe to gauge you, to see if you were really standing there long enough to hear or know anything. but he knew you weren’t stupid. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth before darting across his bottom lip, still bitten and glistening form having it tucked between his teeth while he-
“well, then, uh,” he sucked his teeth, still breathless, raising the stack of papers and meeting your eyes one final time, “thanks. i appreciate it.”
“how horny do you have to be to jack off in an office?”
yuma had completely ignored everything else you told him, including that the last three weeks had been absolute hell for you. after your encounter, euijoo piled the tasks on without remorse. suddenly, there were more papers, midterm tests turned into midterm papers, and more quizzes were being given in class, seemingly for the sole purpose that you would need to grade them. and euijoo grew cold, toward everyone but especially you. it was as though all of his charm had sloughed off overnight, like he had molted and evolved into some brooding asshole with a pen behind his ear.
“that’s what stuck? not the unbearable stress i’m under? or my misery?” you prodded his side on the couch, the show he was watching dissolving into static background noise at the sudden dump of gossip you provided, “yuma, think about my misery.”
“you’ve been in misery this whole time,” yuma rolled his eyes, muttering, “only difference is that it’s at least interesting now.”
“interesting for you,” you covered your face with your hands, sighing deeply. “horrible for me. he won’t even look at me, and i didn’t even do anything.”
the class was the definition of tense following the incident. your lesson plans were thorough, yes, but they were not nearly as packed with papers and assignments and groupwork as euijoo was enacting. you felt bad for the students, mostly, that your eager-to-please nature had tripled their final courseload. but then you felt bad for euijoo, and yuma scolded you for that. he said, “he’s a grown man. frankly, he needs to just get over it.” but you knew what it felt like to be embarrassed. granted, you dealt with it a little differently, with a conversation or just ignoring it completely. euijoo was confronting you with his embarrassment every single day, sliding stacks of ungraded papers across your table toward you at the end of class and leaving without a word. you’d been grading them at home and just bringing them to class to avoid another encounter in his office. even during office hours, you felt like it would only bring up ill feelings. or other feelings.
“here’s what i think,” yuma stood up from the couch beside you, ignoring your displeased grunt as you slumped over into the warmth of his empty cushion. he clapped his hands together in a righteous, all-knowing fashion, as if he had stepped into the shoes of a scholar. one who studies unfortunate tension between awkward individuals and inappropriate work relationships. he announced, “i think professor big-dick has the hots for his TA, and i mean you if thats not clear. and i think he has poor emotional processing skills and a very high sex drive. and no, that’s not a headcanon or personal fantasy- just the truth. and i think the combination of all of those things has left him very confused and, if i might assign vulnerability to a male figure of authority, scared.”
you knew yuma had a wild imagination, but this was beyond your expectations for whatever he was about to tell you. the inside of your mouth was bone dry from how long you jaw had been flat on the floor. you couldn’t believe what he was implying. yet, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt like you knew there was some truth to it. “no,” you shook your head, rubbing your eyes, “don’t suggest it’s my fault somehow that he’s fucking my entire life over.”
“not your fault, babe,” yuma flicked his hair from his face with his fingertips, “you’re hot and smart. and now he knows you’re a sick little voyeur-”
“yuma!” you threw a pillow at him, and he didnt even budge when it smacked into his chest, still standing in an overconfident pose, “you would’ve done the same thing!”
“yeah,” he shrugged, “only he wasn’t thinking about me, idiot. i’d just be a creep.”
you couldnt help but feel as though you’d crossed a line somehow, albeit accidentally. but crossed nonetheless. it seemed as though you’d never be able to go back to the lighthearted, supportive, non-complicated relationship you’d had with euijoo only three weeks prior. he’d checked in on you then, at least, begged for informalities. now, he expected your complete surrender to his every wish without a second thought for your own studies beyond your duties as his assistant. you had papers to write rather than grade. you had your own exams to study for, but you were too focused on making study guides for the final exam in euijoo’s class to even worry about how much of your own degree was being swept under the rug.
so, you kept what yuma said in the back of your mind: confused and scared.
the next time you saw him, it was a tuesday. there were only a few classes left until finals week. and until your mentorship with euijoo would expire, hopefully with a letter of recommendation to show for it. if you were lucky, you’d remain amicable and disregard all the unnecessary tension he’d created and you’d tried desperately to dissolve. it wasn’t explicitly sexual, but yuma was so sure that you began to suspect it, too.
euijoo was still charming, you’d noticed, even when he was clearly stressed out. there was something extra alluring about the throbbing vein in his neck, the way his glasses slid down his nose as he buried his face in his computer at the front podium. this class period was a dedicated work day for the students to finalize their presentation scripts and slides, so you and euijoo were basically useless, lingering silently mere feet from each other for three hours. his shoulders hunched over as he typed away, the faint click of his keyboard breaking through the soft chatter of the class. it was all you could hear, the mechanical tapping only muted by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
and when the class was over, you weren’t as prompt leaving as you had been for the last month. usually, you had your laptop stuffed into your bag before the first student left the room, ready to bolt. but today, you stuck around a moment too long, and euijoo was already standing next to you when you closed your laptop. you could feel his eyes on the top of your head, tracing the side of your face. you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. instead of looking up at him, instead of meeting his eyes in this perfectly planned display of power, you stood up from your chair and met his gaze that way. he was taller than you, so you weren’t eye-level with him, but it felt like enough to tilt your chin up and roll your shoulders back. euijoo tilted his head at your boldness, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, like he was neutralizing a smirk. you narrowed your eyes into his, fighting the pull to get completely lost in them. his glasses made you think of an aquarium, his eyes swirling like tepid water. there was a part of you that wanted to tap on the glass, like a kid, if only to see if he would flinch like a fish or push back, like a wave.
you got your answer. euijoo broke eye contact with you to reach into his bag and pull out a stack of papers. he gently placed them on the table between you and, with four fingers flat on the top, slid the stack as close to you as he could, closing the distance between you with one confident stride. you softly gasped, and you hoped he didnt hear.
“thursday,” euijoo said as he leaned down, just enough to make sure you could hear him. his breath tickled the cusp of your ear and, then, he left, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. you stood there, frozen. there was an unfamiliar feeling in your chest, one that tasted like lust but hit like anger.
your feet were moving before you could think about what to do next, dragging you out of the empty seminar room, down the hall, and into the faculty office corridor. you scanned the names on the doors like you didnt know exactly where you were going. and when you got there, he was peacefully sat at his desk, book spread open before him and a pen in hand. you marched right through his door, propped open with a rubber wedge, which you swiftly kicked out of the way to let the door close behind you.
as you charged into the room, euijoo dog-eared his page, sighing like you had inconvenienced him, “i have a meeting in-”
“no, you fucking don’t,” you countered, punctuating your statement with the stack of papers, slamming the stack on the corner of his desk unoccupied by whatever hipster shit he decided to display that week, “and i’d know because i’d have to put it in your google calendar.”
“you’re upset,” euijoo raised his eyebrows as he observed your behavior, like a scientist and his test subject. it felt like he was studying you, even now, and, honestly, you were kind of sick of being the center of so many experiments without your permission.
“yeah,” you smiled, half in disbelief and half just to keep yourself together, “yeah, i’m upset.”
“would you like a break this week?” he asked, like it was the most obvious question in the world. he closed his book, tucking it away somewhere off to the side of his desk. “it’s almost finals, so i understand if you don’t feel like working.”
“that-” you stopped, taking a deep breath. if byun euijoo had one thing, it was the nerve. it was the confidence to say whatever he wanted without repercussion. you wondered, between flashes of red, how long he had been like this and you had been too naive, too distracted by his cute-ass cardigans and fluffy hair to notice just how much of a dickhead he was. you thought back to The Day, before you stumbled into the most awkward situation of your life, even before you got lunch with yuma. you thought back to the class, when he had asked you if you were alright. he couldn’t even reach one foot in front of him to grab a pen from the table, only asking you if you were alright because you failed to obey him immediately. was that all you were good for? “that is so gracious of you, euijoo, really. because i’ve been working so, so much for the last month. i’d even go so far to say ive been doing nothing but working. wouldnt you?”
“you’ve been very helpful, if that’s what you mean,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “but i can see how i might have… overloaded you.”
“yeah, if by ‘overloaded’ you mean i’ve been doing your fucking job for you,” your voice was coming out harsher by the second, but there was no guarantee you’d be able to get this off your chest again with the way he’d been avoiding you.
“i wouldn’t say that.”
“i would,” you bit back, “im grading all the papers, making the lesson plans, answering all your fucking emails.” you reached a shaking hand out to count your tasks on bent fingers. “i’m putting tests together, scheduling your meetings, compiling study guides. i’m pulling all nighters so often, i don’t even know what day it is until i look at your emails and see students asking about ‘class tomorrow.’ none of this is going to fucking matter if i fail out of all my classes because you cant spare an hour to grade your own shitty assignments. i’m doing everything, and what are you doing besides jacking off in your office like a pervert?”
the silence was thick. you swore you could taste it settling flat on your tongue, tangy with remorse but just barely. it was sweet more than anything and heavy like honey. your chest felt lighter despite how hard it was to breathe, your lungs manually inflating, compressing, inflating- all as shallow as you felt throwing that at him. you weren’t normally this way, and he could see that. you saw him realize that, his eyes darkening as he visibly gulped back anything he thought about saying in response. instead, euijoo, prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, eyes half-lidded and jaw clenched. he kept his posture disengaged, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, although his fist clenched tighter under his bicep. he directed, finally doing one part of his job, “i think you should watch how you talk to me.”
“i think you should watch how you look at me.”
euijoo breathed a laugh, dumbfounded. he shook his head, like you had just told him something he knew was so far-fetched it could not possibly be true. like you’d said kermit was the hottest muppet; that’s how he laughed, like he knew it was really gonzo. he moved to stand up, extending his hand to the door behind you, “you should leave. i’m incredibly busy with things you dont know about, if you can believe it.”
“i’m sure you are now, considering i just returned every last one of your ungraded assignments,” you were the one to cross your arms now, standing firm in your place. you nodded vaguely toward the tower of stapled papers on the corner of the desk, “most of these aren’t even for the intro seminar. i can check credit or no credit for a multiple choice quiz, but i dont know how to grade your shakespearean analyses or your goddamn poetry explications. i mean, i could figure it out, but-”
“want me to show you?”
you nearly laughed, thinking euijoo was mocking your ignorance, until you met his eyes, dark and narrowed. he held your gaze as he sat back in his chair, aligning his posture with the leather backing and firmly planting his feet, an inverse of the relaxed stature he sported when you came crashing in. he was completely serious about showing you how to do everything you mentioned, this you knew, but you weren’t stupid. there was an undertone, a silky venom under that first word- want. did you want him to show you? did you want him? the line had already been crossed. the two of you knew this and had known it for weeks, and, instead of calling it quits, you dragged it out. and now you had to decide; did you want euijoo to show you?
you could basically feel yuma’s spirit in the room with you, grabby hands pushing you forward and snickering like a teenage girl, as you took two cautious steps around the corner of the desk. you had been closer to him before, like half an hour ago when he handed you the mismatched stack of papers and ghosted his breath on the shell of your ear, when he let his chest graze your shoulder. but it felt murky, now, as you stood next to him, arms still crossed as he fished a few poetry papers from the stack. he thumbed through them, looking for the perfect example, and, when he found it, he glanced briefly at you over his shoulder.
“alright, so,” euijoo’s hands firmly pinched the edges of the paper, “you know poetry is all about choices. diction, imagery, meter, line breaks- the works; an explication magnifies those choices in the context of the poem, yeah? it makes the implicit explicit.”
you nodded, but you were not listening. you were entirely focused on the flex of his fingers as he spoke, the curve of his wrist and the soft skin that disappeared under the sleeve of his blazer. you watched the tip of his nose move with his lips, the silver frame of his glasses glinting against the dim light of the lamp in the corner. implicit, explicit- it felt more pertinent to your situation than you’d cared to admit.
“are you listening?” euijoo asked, not bothering to turn to look at you this time, “i asked if you’ve read this poem before.”
“oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, “no, sorry. i dont read a lot of poetry.”
“that’s too bad,” euijoo sighed, swiveling around to angle his body toward you. it was all too much, really, the confrontation followed by the accusations and now the lesson? on a poem you’d never read for a class you didn’t plan on taking to grade a paper that wasn’t your responsibility. and he was sitting there, thighs spread enough to make him look even broader than he was, thighs carved under brown slacks. “would you like to read it?”
“hm?” you eyed him, cautiously, eyebrows raised as if you still didnt hear him. you mouthed, oh, and reached out your hand, waiting for him to give you the poem. how else would you read it? but instead, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gently, moving in short, calculated motions. euijoo tugged your wrist toward him, a subtle gesture as though he were waiting for you to move on your own accord. this was the line, you realized, everything else was just poor timing and yuma’s imagination feeding your delusions. regardless of the ethics, the mental gymnastics you would need to do later to justify it all, you let your body succumb to his gravity. you followed the lead of his hand as he guided you to him, onto his lap, onto one thigh. you couldnt bite back your gasp as you settled onto his leg. yours were awkwardly situated off to the side, but you couldn’t care, not with the full heat of euijoos body pressed flat behind you. you could feel the muscles of his thigh, flexing under the swell of your ass. his hand had abandoned your wrist and settled instead on the sensitive skin on the back of your arms, his fingertips grazed the curve of your waist with every intoxicating drag of his knuckles to your elbows. it was exactly like striking steel on stone only slowly, tenderly as if it were a matter of intent. the fire would start, eventually.
he leaned back in his seat, relaxing in a way that made your rigid stance all the more noticeable, as conspicuous as the goosebumps prickling every visible part of your body. euijoo breathed deep. “go on,” he said, “read it aloud if you want.”
you reached forward with obvious, shaking hands and scooted the paper toward you, stapled in the corner and heavy on only that side. you didn’t read aloud, afraid of what your voice would do if you even tried to speak in your current situation, but you felt euijoo’s eyes on you as you read. the writing was gorgeous, a tightly quilted cacophony of jarring but vivid images. you didn’t fully understand it, but that was the point. it drew your face into a point, one euijoo mirrored as he followed your eyes on the page, reading it alongside you. “beautiful,” he murmured, slipping his foot between yours and maneuvering your legs open, until you were straddling his thigh. and as you steadied your palms on the edge of his desk, adjusting to your new, sinful position, euijoo said, “now, in an explication, it’s all about making connections. consider the poem’s speaker, its meaning,” he slipped his fingertips under the hem of your shirt, grazing your waist with cold, nimble fingers, calloused from turning the page, from holding the pen, from gripping the leash of the dog you made up in your head. this was real, though, and you leaned back into his touch more than you should have, desperate for some kind of contact beyond his knuckles on your arm and, now, the press of his leg into your pulsing core. he walked his hands up your sides, stopping right under your ribs. his thumbs seared their own paths along your spine, pressing deliciously into your delicate skin. “remember what i said earlier about choices? an explication connects a poem’s meaning to things like meter and enjambment, or it considers the perspective of the poem’s speaker and the poet’s diction, imagery, rhythm.”
euijoo’s hands slid to your hips, squeezing tentatively before pushing you down on the peak of his thigh. the sudden pressure, the final flick of steel on flint, pulled a moan from your throat that should have made you feel embarrassed but didn’t, not with euijoo guiding your hips back and forth over him, flexing his thigh deliciously under your clothed, aching core. he dragged you in short, slow motions, letting you work with him, letting you roll your hips over the taut muscles. you could hear his breathing grow uneven with every push and pull, every surrender to the urges he’d fought back the entire semester with you. you could feel him holding back, dipping his fingertips just beneath the waist of your pants and pressing into your flesh. you angled your hips back, just barely, and euijoo jolted under you as your ass brushed the evident, growing bulge in his slacks, his sudden movement eliciting another sound from you. and as the two of you groaned, together, you realized how easily someone could walk by the closed door, how someone could knock, or rather how they could not.
and you realized how concerning it was that you didn’t really care. not at that moment, as euijoo sat up straight behind you, pulling your back flat against his heaving chest. you felt his heartbeat between your shoulderblades. he ground you down onto his leg once again, forcing sparks against your throbbing clit, even through the layers of clothing. you felt euijoo move your hair away from your neck and press a soft kiss to the back of your neck. wet, open-mouthed, and his tongue lingered at the tail-end, dragging a warm stripe up to your ear. “do you understand, now?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear.
you hummed, almost drunk on him. but not drunk enough. “do you?” you smirked, rolling your hips against him once again, reveling in the friction as long as he would allow it, “i could have googled that.”
one hand abandoned your waist and came up to your chin, holding your jaw. euijoo turned your face, gently, to look at him. his eyes glinted, dark, behind his glasses. his hand was so big, obvious against the curve of your cheek. he scanned your eyes for any sign of remorse, any inkling of regret, or fear, and found nothing but fire. pure heat. he licked his lips, “then why didnt you, hm? had to come in here and make a scene instead.” you placed your hand on his, just long enough to lift and slip his thumb between your lips, humming around his digit as he pushed it further inside. his own mouth fell open as you smoothed your tongue over the pad of his finger, urging him deeper until your lips were sealed up to his knuckle. euijoo groaned softly, pressing down on your tongue as you continued to rock your hips against him. “fuck,” he dragged, “you wanted this, too, hm? didnt you, doll?” euijoo watched as you hollowed your cheeks, his own tongue poking from the side of his mouth. “so desperate, grinding on me. go on and get yourself off on my thigh, pretty girl. you can do it.” he snaked his free hand from your hip around to your stomach, fingers still looped under your pants, teasing, “been feeling your needy cunt on me this whole time. you can make yourself come, can’t you, darling?”
you whimpered around his thumb, rutting against his leg. you steadied yourself with one hand on the desk and wrapped the other around his wrist, keeping his fingers close to your mouth. your body was so, so close, your core burning white hot. but it wasnt enough. too many layers, too little friction without him pushing you down or flexing his thigh. you wanted more; you needed more.you needed him- his fingers, his mouth, his cock. you shook your head.
“no?” euijoo furrowed his brows, tilting his head in a pout, “first, you can’t do something as simple as read a poem, grade a paper. and now you cant make yourself come? do you need my help with that, too, baby? want me to show you how?”
you nodded, eagerly and without hesitation, but euijoo slid his thumb from your lips, smearing your spit over them like gloss, dragging it up your burning cheek. he cradled your head in his hand, tilting your head to look into his eyes, dark and round, amplified behind glass. he whispered, “i need you to say it for me, beautiful.”
“yes, euijoo,” your voice was low, quiet enough for him to hear and no one else, since you were painfully aware of how easily sound traveled through closed doors, “i want you.”
it was true. you did have a thing for hot nerds in cardigans. and it was sick how you were willing to do anything he asked you. more than willing. in any other universe, the two of you would have crossed paths at the supermarket, where you’d have given him a terrible pasta recipe you’d made up on the spot to impress him, or at a bar, where maybe he’d have bought you a drink and his phone number. instead, your current paths were horribly complicated but crossing nonetheless, intertwining like two steel, barbed wires. like a chainlink fence.
euijoo leaned in first, connecting your lips softer than you’d anticipated, like he was savoring you. in all honesty, you didn’t expect him to kiss you at all, but his lips were plush, warm, and they nestled between yours almost perfectly. he tasted as sweet as he smelled, moved as gentle as he looked. you melted into him, sighing against his lips, moving so meticulously against your own. he moved his hands to your ass, pulling you closer until you were straddling him. this taste of control made your head spin. you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. he hummed into the kiss, squeezing the flesh of your ass and pulling you down against him, just enough to grind up into you. you were both whining, groaning messes against one another, the kiss growing desperate with every grind of your hips, teeth grazing and noses clashing.
“euijoo,” you mumbled, “touch me.”
“hmm,” he disconnected your lips, pulling back only far enough to scan your face, “might need to google it first.”
oh, and he was cheeky, too. great. you were taken aback by the unexpected humor but satisfied with the way he matched your wit. you let a smile bleed through the cool exterior you were trying desperately to maintain, “go ahead. i bet you can figure it out, though,” you smirked, testing the waters, “you touch yourself just fine.”
euijoo let his head hang forward, breathing a laugh. “fair,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, “you’re good.”
“mhm,” you shifted in his lap, “i’m also- what all did you say? desperate, needy?” you leaned back down into him, pulling the collar of his coat away from his neck. you dusted a featherlight kiss right on his pulse, feeling it spike beneath your lips. he sucked in a quick breath, a gasp, and slid his hands over your thighs, squeezing the bulk of them before inching his fingers closer to the button of your pants.
“gotta get these off, yeah?” euijoo breathed as you continued to work kisses up his neck, his jaw, and back to his mouth. before you could connect your lips to his, as you hovered impatiently over him, he pulled his face away, just an inch or two. he watched you fall forward, chasing him. a smirk tugged at his mouth as he whispered, “i want you on my desk.”
you’d barely stepped out of your pants when euijoo hoisted you up, settling you on the edge of the wooden table but only after swiping his books and pens and trinkets out of the way. the pens rolled, a metallic rumbling punctuated by several clinking thuds as they teetered off the edge, and the books remained in tall stacks. the corners prodded your side, but it was a shadow of a sensation the moment euijoo sank to his knees and latched his mouth onto your inner thigh, fingers splayed on the plush flesh, pushing them wider.
the idea used to make your thighs clench, the fleeting and hazy daydream of euijoo between your legs. it had felt intrusive before, like you’d needed something to get through the endless hours of his boring lectures and he was the closest object for your strange affection. and now that it was real, now that you could feel his breath fanning over the damp patch in your underwear, it was still hazy, like you had overindulged, like you had been greedy and you still wanted more.
euijoo looped his fingers around the waist of your underwear, watching as the soaked fabric lifted away from your pussy, only to be quickly replaced with the flat of his tongue. he groaned, lapping up the arousal you’d worked so hard for, remnants of a distant and futile orgasm. his sharp tongue slipped through your folds, prodding at your clit with every slow, upward drag. the pace pulled a sigh from your chest, but every torturous flick of his tongue manifested in a stifled mewl. he was calculated, memorizing your reactions to pressures and patterns, but each movement was so agonizingly slow. you could hardly stand it. you rolled your hips to meet his rhythm, to maybe gain a fraction of speed, but it only made him lag behind his already languid pace.
“please,” you gripped at the edge of the desk to hold yourself back from grabbing his hair and riding his face the way you’d imagined a hundred times, “more, euijoo.”
part of you craved the slow, deliberate pleasure, wanted to savor the dreamy caress of his fingers dragging lightly down the outside of your thighs; another part of you recognized the risk of it all, the thin walls and thinner doors, the effort to swallow the sounds he was pulling from you almost distracting from the feeling itself.
“more?” euijoo grazed your clit with his teeth, smirking against you as your hips jerked involuntarily. he circled your dripping entrance with his fingertip, relishing in the way your body curled toward him as he pushed it inside, slow and even, long and slender. the stretch was subtle at first, and inward, his fingertip grazing the depths of you. you gasped, softly, as he pumped once, twice, and then you gasped, a little less softly, as he reattached his lips to your clit, working every part of your cunt with a fixed precision. euijoo peered up at you, his glasses crooked on his nose as his tongue flicked swift swipes over your aching bud, pleasure burning low in your core.
he added another finger, slipping it in smoothly with the first and curling them at a devastating angle. your moans were stifled, barely more than breath, but they were there, and so were euijoo’s. he hummed against your cunt, lips engulfing your clit to send the vibrations straight through you. he pressed your hips down with his other palm, keeping you still for him as your release crept closer and closer, winding tightly in your core and threatening to snap at any moment. you attempted to roll your hips to amplify the movements of his fingers, chasing your high, but he didn’t stop you this time. instead, he loosened his grip, digging his fingers into your hip but not preventing you from moving, and pressed his tongue flat against you. “take it, baby,” he mumbled, “take what you need.”
and you did, threading your hand in his hair and grinding helplessly on his face as euijoo pumped his fingers relentlessly into you, plucking the taut string until it snapped. your orgasm washed over you, silently and all at once, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. he stilled his tongue against you, feeling the pulse of your heat and catching your release as it leaked around his digits. “that’s it. come all over my fingers, pretty girl.” he slid his fingers out of you before watching them disappear in your sensitive cunt one final time. he brought them to his lips, slurping your juices from his skin, his own lips glistening with a combination of your wetness and his own drool. he was intoxicating- a vision. he squeezed your thigh one final time, whispering, “you’re even sweeter than i imagined.”
imagined. the word made you come back down, your core still pulsing but craving more. you reached out for him, pulling him up to meet your lips in a frenzied, hungry kiss. you let your tongue slip into him immediately, savoring your own flavor on his tongue. he groaned into you, pressing his hips flush to yours; his dick was straining against the front of his pants, twitching against your bare core as your tongues melted against each other. you pulled away first, just enough to ask, “and what else did you imagine?”
euijoo breathed a laugh, casting his eyes away from you like he was embarrassed, scanning the shelves on the wall behind you. his tongue darted out before he slipped his bottom lip between his teeth. he slipped his hands beneath your shirt again, dragging his fingertips up your sides, “i imagined your mouth on my cock,” he said as his gaze fell on your lips, like he were imagining it then, too. he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your jaw, working his way down your neck, “i imagined your throat, bruised and sore after i’ve fucked it raw.”
you couldnt help the way you moaned as euijoo nipped at your skin, soothing the tender area with his tongue. every part of your body was on fire. you slid your hands to the front of his pants, innocently looping your fingers through his belt loops. “and that day, when you thought you were alone,” you pulled the tent of his cock closer, brushing it against your sensitive core, and you felt him moan against your neck, “what did you imagine, then?”
“bending you over my desk,” euijoo hissed into your ear, answering like it was obvious, before smoothing his tongue over the shell of it, “and stuffing you full of my cum.” he pushed his hips closer, grinding up into you in a slow and controlled movement, and growled, lowly, “over and over and over.”
before you could even think, you were shoving his blazer off his shoulders and running your palms over the broad slopes of hidden muscle. beneath, he was clad only in a button up with the sleeves rolled a precise three times to his forearms. he watched you unbutton the top two plastic discs sewn to his shirt and stop, satisfied with the slight reveal of flushed skin. the only thing you had it worse for than a hot nerd in a cardigan was a hot nerd in a slutty little button up. “you have a vivid imagination, euijoo,” you whispered, bringing your hands back down to his belt and toying with the worn metal fixtures, “lots of time to daydream when you have someone else doing your work for you, hm?”
euijoo rolled his eyes, mirroring your smirk as you worked at his belt. he pushed your hands out of the way and swiftly unbuckled the leather strap, unbuttoning his slacks but hesitating to push them down. instead, he scanned your face again, this time really looking at you. he studied the creases of your eyes, the arch of your brow, the plush curve of your lips, red and swollen from being lodged between your teeth to smother your moans. you tilted your head, curious, having never been able to read him in any situation but especially this one. you felt exposed under his gaze, and not only because you were, still nude from the waist down, but because he was too silent. it was like you tripped a wire. he chewed the inside of his cheek, his hand falling to caress the outside of your bare thigh once again. the goosebumps rose as he whispered, “can i admit something?”
“no,” you whispered back, dragging your fingers down his clothed chest, gently passing over the toned slopes of his stomach until you reached the zipper of his slacks. you caught the metal tab between your fingers and pulled it, slowly, over the grinding metal teeth until there was enough space to slip your hand in and press your palm against him, “tell me after you’ve fucked me.”
euijoo choked back a groan, lowering his head to your shoulder as his hips bucked into your hand. his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, sharp pecks along your collarbones growing more intense with every squeeze of your hand, every jolt of pressure. “fuck,” euijoo cursed against your neck, his breathing erratic, like he could have came from this alone, “deal.” he pushed his slacks down enough for his cock to spring free, the tip red and impatient, flushed and frustrated just like his face. and just as pretty. as was the case with any daydream, any fantasy, you’d imagined he would be huge, inhumanly girthy, but the reality was not disappointing; he was average in bulk but long and slightly curved. your mouth watered as your fingers wrapped around him instinctively. your mouth felt suddenly hollow, throat aching to be, what was it, bruised and sore? but, frankly, so was your pussy, dripping with greed all over his desk in a way that should have embarrassed you but only turned you on more. he squeezed his eyes shut as you stroked him, agonizingly slow, feeling the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. he held your hand still as a silent plea before pulling you off him completely, holding both of your hands in his as he urged you off the desk.
a gentleman, at last.
but as soon as you were standing on two feet, he spun you around with a steady hand on your hip and bent you, directly at the waist, over his desk. you gasped at the contrast, soft palms with calloused fingers pushing the small of your back until your stomach was level with the wooden surface. it was all very confusing, the way you had to bite back a moan at the force and, then, a smile as he reached around you, opening a book from the top of its stack and placing it below your face. a cushion of sorts, which you happily nestled your cheek against, the pages loved and soft.
and then you felt it- the heavy tip of his cock as euijoo pushed himself over your entrance and through your folds in slow, maddening strokes, coating himself in you and driving you up the wall in one go. he bumped your clit with every drag, hands kneading the plush of your ass as you arched into him. “still so fucking wet,” he mumbled, hissing as he made another long drag through your leaking cunt, “i’m gonna fuck you now, baby. let me know if its too much and i’ll stop, yeah? say it for me.”
“y-yes,” you breathed, the air rustling the raw edge of the page beneath your cheek. euijoo squeezed your hip, thumb pressing into your flesh as he breached your entrance at an agonizing pace, stretching and searing. your jaw went slack, hanging open with a silent cry as he slid, inch by inch, deeper inside of you, until you were sure there was no more left. and then he kept going. you reached for anything to hold onto as he split you directly in two, “fuck, yes. fuck- euijoo-”
“that’s it, baby,” he stroked the curve of your back as he bottomed out inside of you, “not so bad, was it? pretty pussy sucked me right in.” and you felt every inch of him, kissing your walls and sparking your nerves with that familiar stone-fueled fire. euijoo ground his hips against your ass, as if he could possibly go any deeper, and whined, soft and high, yet another contrast to the firm press of his hand on your hip. experimentally, you copied his movement, rolling your hips slightly, pulling forward and pushing back onto him in one short, slow stroke.
“so fucking impatient,” euijoo mumbled, sliding out of you almost entirely, leaving you empty for only a second before pushing back in, watching himself disappear between your folds, “so fucking eager.” you sank your teeth into your fist to muffle your moans, the scrape of his cock along your insides begging you to break, coaxing the most pathetic sounds out of you. and they only got worse as he snapped his hips faster, driving his cock into you in short, rapid thrusts.
“squeezing the hell out of me, doll,” he grunted, “so fucking tight, so perfect.” you clenched around him at the praise, wishing the circumstances were different and that you could hear him, really hear him. the soft grunts and gentle whines were only a fraction of what he could really give you. he was spearing into you, fingers walking up your spine and smoothing over your skin with featherlight touches. his pace was becoming relentless, as fast as he could go without the obscene sound of skin-on-skin permeating the room, but it was the firm pressure of his fingertips circling your clit that made tears prick your eyes. “feel good, baby?” he mocked you with a honey-sweet voice, “crying all over the page, smearing my ink?”
you felt the wetness roll out of the corners of your eyes and trickle into a puddle under your cheek. he didn’t even mention the drool that had accumulated from the side of your lips, fucked dumb on his desk, lurching toward his hips with every thrust to get yourself closer. “so fucking good,” you whispered, clawing at the edges of the desk to give yourself leverage, “please don’t stop, euijoo. gonna come for you.”
“come all over my cock, pretty girl,” he mumbled, pressing on your back and rubbing intense circles around your throbbing clit. his thrusts were growing sloppy, and you knew he was close, too, ready for your orgasm to milk him dry. you arched your back just right, feeling his tip swipe that perfect spot in your core over and over, like a cellist plucking the lowest note, the thickest string. you felt your second orgasm rain over you, the wire finally snapping and sending a wave tremors through your body, your legs trembling below you, jaw slack with a silent cry lodged in your throat. euijoo buried himself to the hilt inside of you, letting your fluttering pussy work his own release out of him, the warmth spreading low into your stomach. he pumped himself into you once, then twice, forcing his cum deeper into you, groaning quietly and kneading the curve of your ass. he breathed, “holy shit,” and unsheathed his softening dick from your aching cunt, leaving you empty and cold as his seed leaked down your thighs.
all you could do was lay there, just for a few minutes, catching your breath as he grabbed tissues from his desk drawer and tenderly scooped the trails of cum from your skin. he tossed the tissues into the trash and rested his hand, delicately, on the back of your head, petting your hair. you hummed, pleased with the contact, a sincere gesture. euijoo cleared his throat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears, “i’m going to tell you this now because i feel like you’re too tired to be pissed at me.”
you felt your breath catch in your throat as he admitted, “half of those assignments i gave you weren’t even real; the papers just smelled like you when you brought them back to me.”
from the corner of your eye, you saw the stack of papers that brought you in here in the first place, stapled neatly on every corner and wrinkled on the edges from how tightly you clutched them to your chest as you stormed into his office. you thought about the hours wasted grading, the excess of tasks, the nights slipping away while you were stressed out of your mind. you sighed, still spent, “fuck you, euijoo.”
Personal word vomit: idk why this one took me so long😞💔 sowwy guys ALSO THANK YOU FOR 777 followers (I kinda skipped over 666, but knock on wood!) this is so cool😛 Read Part 1 HERE
Featuring: Jeff The Killer / Jeffrey Woods, Eyeless Jack, X-Virus / Cody
CW: nsfw, fem!reader, p in v sex, established relationships, implied unprotected sex, different positions described, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, dirty talk, teasing/edging, not proof read, written by a non-naitive english speaker
༘⋆ Jeff
✦ "WHAT DO YOU MEAN JUST THE TIP?"
✦ Genuinely thinks you've lost your mind. Jeff has the sex drive of a horny teenager who has just discovered the glorious feeling of jacking off — Best believe he can't go two days without fucking you or at least masturbating to the thought of you in like ten different positions. Obviously, he still wouldn't overstep any boundaries and if you say "just the tip" then it also meant "just the tip". It'll be hard for him to stop himself from sinking into your pussy even deeper once he even touches you, but okay, challenge accepted.
✦ Jeff quickly changed his mind, though — If he can't properly fuck you, he'll eat you out then. He'll have you on your back and looking all pretty on his bed, lips all red and slightly swollen from making out for the past hour-or-so, while he undresses you: "Shh, don't worry, babe, let me do it," Jeff said, which was a little out of character. Usually, he'd be the lazy one, the one who'd just lie down and let you do all the work (He did love watching you ride his cock, though). His lips wrapped around your, already sensitive, nipple, flicking his tongue over it until you mewled under him. Honestly, you were enjoying the sudden princess treatment.
✦ And when he said he'll eat you out, you can be damn sure he'll do it properly. Jeff can be a munch if he wants to be, which might not be often, but when he goes down on you he'll give you the best orgasm on earth. You can't quite put your finger on what it is exactly.. Maybe it's the way his thumb rubs slow, delicious circles on your clit, putting on just the right pressure that has you purring, or the way he never fails to find your g-spot ever single time when he curls his fingers, plunging in and out of your pussy in a brutal pace. Your favorite thing is when Jeff starts making out with your wet folds, moaning and groaning and sweet talking your pussy, because she obviously also deserved princess treatment.
✦ In the end "Just the tip" wasn't even that bad. Not bad at all, even. "Enjoyed yourself?" Your boyfriend asked after kissing up your bare body once he made you cum on his face for the third time that evening. You made eye contact with his sea blue eyes, pupils blown out from the pleasure like he was pussy drunk. "Yeah... I think you've earned it now."
༘⋆ EJ
✦ Jack thought you're joking. He doesn't really get it when you're being sarcastic sometimes, so he figured this was one of those times — But no, he quickly realized you were being serious when you repeated it. "Why?" he asked you straight up, confusion etched onto his features.. since when did you want something like that? Just yesterday you were moaning and screaming for his dick, begging him to go harder, faster, harder, faster— what happened in those 24 hours?
✦ You can be sure, though, that EJ is one of the few creeps where this'll work. He has crazy self-control over his needs and wants and if his sweet girlfriend wants "just the tip" then so be it. He does think you'll probably crack in under ten seconds anyway — Not that he wants you to (He definitely wants you to), it just seems like you want to tease him and are now too deep into the joke to pull out. Haha pull out, get it?
✦ Actually, you thought just the tip of his cock was enough to get that mind-shattering, stretched out feeling you loved so much. More often than not, especially in the beginning when you guys started to sleep together, did it hurt whenever you tried to sink your pussy down on him (You immediately needed to jump his bones when seeing him shirtless for the first time... come on, who doesn't want to ride the shit out of Eyeless Jack?). Times were certainly crazy whenever EJ was so much in heat, so caught up in the moment, that he'd just start carelessly thrusting into you erratically, his tip kissing your cervix over and over and over again.. You couldn't walk for days.
✦ "Just the tip" works really well with EJ, and he didn't realize he would like it so much. He'd slot himself between your thighs, kiss you senseless all the while he'd slip his cock in and out of your pussy, occasionally bumping against your clit. It send shots of pleasure directly to your brain, making you moan and cry out for him even louder than normal. "Jack stop teasing, pleaaaaase ohmygod just fuck me already!" Ah well, he called it.
༘⋆ Cody
✦ "Uhhhh, okay!"
✦ Will probably not even overthink it. You said it immediately after watching a movie turned into Cody slipping his hand under your shirt and a heavy make-out session, just to see how he'd react. Truth is, Cody doesn't have a problem with anything like that — Maybe you're just not feeling it? He's on the softer side and is definitely more considerate than a lot of other creeps, so it was obvious that he'd just agree.
✦ Now you needed to see how long you could take this. Suprisingly, Cody took this like really seriously — You were quite touched by how careful he was being with you, like you could break if he made one wrong move. You truly are his pillow princess, all sprawled out on his bed and you deserved only the best: Long, slender fingers dragged themselves over your bare stomach, down to your, already slick, folds. Your eyes closely followed your boyfriends moves, your breathing quickening whenever his fingers ghosted right over your clit.. the more Cody teased, the more you thought this was a stupid idea.
✦ Alright shit, it seemed like he was onto you now. "Just the tip"? Haha yeah suuuuure, as if you could actually handle that. Cody leaned his forehead against your temple, eyeing your face curiously. His lips found your jaw, kissing along your hot skin while he removed his jeans: "Help me, sweetheart?" He asked in that teasing tone he always had. He absolutely knew you couldn't resist him like that.
✦ All in all, "Just the tip" could definitely work from his side... the question is if you can. Cody definitely has enough restraint, and enough respect for you, which is a huuuuge green flag. He does enjoy pounding you into the mattress though, so don't try to joke with him like that — He will drag foreplay out until you can't do it anymore, leaving you frustrated and basically aching for more.
creepypasta x afab reader | nsfw | what they're like in bed
characters : jeff the killer, eyeless jack, ticci toby, jane the killer
cws : vaginal penetration, overstimulation, choking, cunnilingus, blood play, cock warming, free use, squirting, mirror sex, over all just a lot of kinks
a/n : another set of headcanons! let me know in the comments if you would like to see a part two with other characters! requests are open at the moment so don't be shy to send me any! or just to talk about our self indulgent ideas teehee. enjoy reading xoxo
jeffery woods | jeff the killer
until you, jeff was absolutely a virgin. the opportunity just never presented itself! now, this does not stop him from being the horny little freak he is. he has watched one too many adult videos and read one too many racy magazines. so he's not starting at ground zero. but with that being said, he doesn't have any real experience. you're going to have to guide him to do what you want, otherwise he's just going to try and replicate what he's seen thus far.
he prefers it rough and hard, sex is just sex to him. lovemaking isn't really jeff's style. it will take a while until he gets used to the idea of foreplay. what do you mean you're not just ready to go when he is? (no jeffery it doesn't work like that). at first he's very much under the idea that all of that extra stuff is pointless. and then he eats you out for the first time. suddenly he understands why foreplay is so important. he quickly becomes addicted to making you squirm under his touch. he loves to overstimulate you, making you beg for him to let you cum. power is such a turn on for him, especially when it feeds into his already massive ego.
he's a kinky motherfucker too let me tell you. he lives under the idea that he's willing to try just about anything once. his personal favorites are choking you and roleplaying. pretend to be his helpless victim and he's bursting at the seams. he likes to throw you around a little bit, pulling into that power he constantly craves. communication is definitely very important with jeff because he can and will get carried away. he would never want to actually hurt you but it's a blurry line between pain and pleasure. with him, both are very important.
jeff does have a rather high sex drive. look at him with those sultry eyes and he's already carrying you to the bedroom. he's shameless with asking you for sex as well. if he even asks. he's definitely the type to just come up behind you and start grinding, silently asking for your permission. oh you're busy? he can fuck you while you keep working, no worries. he loves his little doll so much, he can't help it!
jack nyras | eyeless jack
the freakiest freak to ever freak. he's into things that don't even have a name. and his skill in bed? unmatched, i don't care if its biased. jack has abilities that no normal human does. he has a better understanding of your anatomy than you even do. he'll know just how to edge you until your body physically can't handle the pleasure anymore. and he does just that...quite often. jack is an observant creature, he quickly adapts to your personal wants and needs. he has a skill for picking up the smallest of sounds and learning just how to draw them out of your pretty lips.
when it comes to sex itself, jack is calculated. he alternates between the most jaw dropping raunchy sex known to mankind to something sweet and intimate. while he might be rather stone faced, he's very aware of your emotional needs. there are times when he does lose self control during sex and absolutely begins to pummel you. on night's like that, don't expect to be leaving the bedroom for a while. but normally, he enjoys taking his sweet time with you. exploring your perfect body and learning just how to please you.
obviously this man has such a knack for edging you but aside from that he's also really into cock warming and blood play. he'll have you sitting on his dick for an hour before he finally begins to move. he just thinks you look so beautiful sitting on him like that! he'll constantly be nipping at your skin during sex. he loves leaving little bites and marks along your body. most of the time, it does draw blood, but your mind won't be left to linger on that as he licks up every last drop. also has a huge thing for size differences. not necessarily between your bodies but he loves watching you struggle to take his dick.
his sex drive is constantly changing and completely unpredictable. there are times the two of you will go without sex for days and then suddenly he has you in bed ALL day long. don't worry, he makes up for his inconsistent sex drive ;)
tobias rogers | ticci toby
also a virgin until you came along, but oddly skilled? the first time the two of you had sex you were like "are you sure you haven't done this before?" the opportunity had definitely presented itself to him before but toby is choosey with who he lets into his life. he has a lot of trauma that has led him to be extremely paranoid when it comes to relationships. that includes sex. but luckily for you, his lack of experience certainly doesn't show. he's willing to do anything to please you. definitely more of a giver than receiver!
he prefers passionate sex, usually in the spur of the moment. emotion and sex go hand in hand to him. so whenever he feels something strongly, he instantly wants to take it out in the bedroom. just let him bury his pretty face between your thighs and you're golden! it's his favorite place to be anyhow! he's usually the giver during sex but pull an uno reverse and please him? i'm afraid the man will simply perish upon contact. the entire time he's so sweet about it, telling you how good you make him feel and how well you're doing.
toby likes to explore a variety of kinks with lots of communication throughout. the only ones he shy's away from are ones that involve seriously hurting you. choking, spanking, pussy slapping, all of that is fine. but cutting you? he's hesitant with kinks of that nature. it goes against his instincts to take care of you and protect you. the one's he gravitates towards are free use and squirting. he loves when he gets to use your pussy for his personal use. the entire time he'll have his forehead against your shoulder, thanking you for allowing him to fuck you. and squirting? the first time he got you to do it, he froze like a deer in headlights. and then quickly switched to "do it again :0".
as i said before, he tends to tie emotions to sex. so his sex drive is a bit unpredictable. now, toby is an emotional person, he feels things very passionately. so there usually isn't much of a gap between when he asks for sex. it just tends to happen out of the blue. not that you mind (teehee).
jane richardson | jane the killer
power bottom. she's definitely more experienced than many of the other creeps, and it shows in the bedroom. she knows just how to please you as you ride her strap. don't mistake her being a bottom as being submissive. she's absolutely in control the entire time. she'll buck her hips up into you, hitting that sweet spot until you simply melt on top of her. she loves the view as you ride her, and it's definitely her favorite position. jane is more of a boobs girl so watching your tits bounce the entire time is the highlight of sex for her.
jane loves to take her time with you, never rushing sex. quickies aren't really her thing. she wants to savor your body, to taste every fraction of your skin. she's a passionate person to begin with, and it follows her into the bedroom. she wants you to know just how much she adores you. how much she worships you. one thing about being in a relationship with jane? there will never be an opportunity for insecurity to gnaw away at you. she's always a very giving partner, making sure you know just how beautiful she finds you.
kink wise? jane is very into lingerie and katoptronophilia (mirror sex). she loves the idea of you getting all dolled up for her! the quickest way to turn jane on is to buy some form of racy lingerie. her absolute favorite is anything black and lacey. it makes her feel so special that you would do all of that just for her! she likes taking the time to admire each and every detail as she slowly removes it piece by piece. especially if she makes you watch it while she does! jane has one of those big mirrors in her room just to fuck you in front of. "do you see how pretty you look around my fingers?" she'll ask you from behind, her hand holding your face up to look in the mirror while the other fingers you.
she has a high sex drive and likes to keep the passion going even when the two of you are apart. throughout the day she loves both giving and receiving suggestive pictures. it gives her something to look forward to when she gets home! (you will be a mess by the end of the night).
