#euijoo

you might have pushed him too far this time.

euijoo is usually a professional at brushing off the jokes you make about his arguably less than impressive sex life. and by that, youre not even sure it exists at all. you've been friends for years, but you have never heard him brag about an "eventful" night, even when you've done more than your fair share of explicit storytimes. he's always a listening ear, no matter how red hearing your encounters makes the top of his.

when you'd went on vacation together in the past, the two of you have to spend a week apart afterward just to preserve the friendship you've crafted. you're just so annoying. but he loves it, way more than he'd care to admit. you once spent a week on a woodland retreat, traveling sun up to sun down with a group of very dedicated hikers. up hill. down hill. even sideways on the hill, like goats.

"can you please shut the hell up about bigfoot?" euijoo had yelled over his shoulder on the last day of the trip. you had to shamefully lower your hand and relax your shocked face, having just claimed your ninth bigfoot sighting of the week. the entire group turned to look at you, and euijoo didnt speak the rest of the hike. he made you food over your campfire, though, while you were cramming a quick nap before the final evening hike. your calves hurt more than your relationship, thankfully.

when you went anywhere, you found a bit to commit to for the duration of the trip and waited to see how long it would take euijoo to break. the first day of a trip was always the most fun, the two of you in a new place. you love his smile, and he was always painfully enthusiastic within 24 hours of the plane landing or the hotel door clicking closed. he would drag you to all the destinations you'd marked on the map with his digital camera slipped into his pocket. around the fourth day, however, he was drained. and after the fifth, he began to huff, cast irritated glances your way, and, occasionally, ask if you knew how to be quiet. from the sixth day on, you were playing with fire.

this time, you and euijoo had decided on a beach holiday. you've never been anywhere actually relaxing together, usually opting for near death or financially detrimental experiences. you thought it might be fun to lay around on a towel reading shitty romance, build sand castles, get sun poisoning- the works. so, you booked a room at a beachfront resort, adults only and all inclusive with a full breakfast bar. and you decided what bit you'd be fully committing to, even before you arrived at the hotel:

you were gonna get euijoo laid.

it would be just like love island, you thought. or assumed, since you've never actually seen it. but your best friend, who is by and large considered handsome, would be surrounded by gorgeous adult women in tiny bikinis, gleaming under stark sunlight all day long, lingering by the bar desperate for a drink that euijoo could definitely order for them. you'd even tell him what drinks girls like, in a grossly stereotyping sense.

you considered it a favor. he had a girlfriend once, when the two of you first met. you'd had some classes with her at your university but met euijoo by completely unrelated circumstance. you had taken his drink at a local cafe by accident, despite his name being written on the side of the cup in thick black marker.

"wait, your name is euijoo?" you had stared at him with wide eyes. he could only nod, face blank, as you lied to him through your teeth, "my name is euijoo, too. small world, huh?"

euijoo was hooked on you ever since, spending so much time with you at arcades and poetry readings and movie nights that his girlfriend called it quits. you became close incredibly fast. it was so easy to forget about time with him, though. the years went by so quickly, only slowing down the one week a year you isolated yourselves together and you pushed him to emotional limits he didnt even know he had.

the resort was fancy but not flashy, which was good since neither of you really looked like you belonged there. euijoo had a stupid floppy hat on, and you had forgotten to take off your sunglasses inside, the giant lenses eclipsing your entire face. the hotel receptionist was visibly reluctant to hand over your room key as if the two of you were obviously responsible adults capable of maintaining order in her establishment. when she finally handed it over to euijoo, he flashed her a genuine smile that moved his cheeks and all.

"she was cute," you said as euijoo yanked his suitcase over the elevator floor gap. you pressed your floor number, feeling his confused stare chiseling into the side of your face. she was cute, round hazel eyes and freckled cheeks. she had a friendly face, just like him.

euijoo shifted on his feet, "do you, uh, want her number? i can go back and get it for you."

he moved to press the lobby button, and you swatted his hand away. as he hissed, shaking his barely burning wrist, you insisted, "no, dumbass, for you. shes cute for you."

"for me?" his eyebrows turned up in the middle, furrowing like you'd just told him he won a raffle he never entered. his lips parted slightly, one long finger pointed into his chest.

and he kept this act up for days, playing dumb every time you tried to get him to ask someone out. "juju, she's hot," was met with, "well, the sun is out." every "you should offer her a drink" warranted an "alcohol speeds up dehydration." he was such a fucking gentleman. it made you sick.

at one point, you purposefully sat in a lounge chair on the very end of the row at the hotel pool, leaving euijoo to sit in the one between you and a very, very attractive lady. even you considered testing the waters if he ended up tanking his chances.

"hi, hi. sorry to bother you," you had sat up after twenty minutes of brainstorming and sunbathing, leaning over euijoo to get into the woman's hearing range. he audibly gulped, suddenly aware of what angle you were playing. he caught on pretty quickly. you lifted a hand just as she turned to face you and stuck it right in euijoo's hair, ruffling it, "my friend here thinks youre very beautiful. isnt that right, euijoo?"

"hm, what?" he sat up quickly from his relaxed pose on the lounger, swiping your hand from his head and shooting you a sideways glance. the woman peered at him from behind her sunglasses, watching as he searched for a response to your question, his mouth opening and closing, opening and closing until he landed on, "oh, yes! i said your hair was beautiful. its, uh, very... healthy. yeah, great hair."

he then gave her the saddest thumbs up you've ever seen, crooked and weary, and stood up from his seat, pattering away on the wet concrete. the woman watched him the whole way back to the hotel entrance, combing an absent hand through her loose, healthy curls. you sighed, "i guess i misheard him. you are beautiful, though."

"what exactly are you trying to do?" euijoo was sitting, slouched over on the edge of his bed when you returned a couple hours later. he had changed from his swim shorts and tank top into something more casual, comfy. you only noticed because you'd bought him that tshirt for his birthday last year.

"nice shirt," you laughed as you hopped up onto the edge of your own mattress parallel to him, letting your legs dangle in the space between you. he lifted his gaze from the floor to your face, dark brown eyes scanning for something you werent quite aware of. euijoo didnt smile, and you felt yourself grow sharp under his watch, "whats up with you? why are you being weird?"

"im being weird?" he breathed a laugh this time, tilting his head at you in a way that had his tousled hair swiping over his eyes. he flicked it away, absentmindedly, "interesting, since all youve done this week is try to hook me up with strangers. is that not weird to you?"

you were speechless, opening your mouth only for nothing to come out. it was day four, but you'd never pushed him this far. and it was entirely unintentional. you knew he hated the bigfoot jokes. you knew he hated when you made him do the same pose at every tourist attraction. you knew he hated your collection of tacky shot glasses you just had to buy at every souvenir shop. but this- he had never acknowledged your behavior in this way.

"is it weird for me to want my best friend to have a little fun?" you asked, gauging his reaction, which- spoiler- was not positive.

"im trying to have fun," he stressed, crossing his arms and sliding off the bed to stand, "with you. on our vacation. but you keep trying to pawn me off!"

"euijoo, i just swear to god youve not had sex with anybody in like five years. cant you, like, die from that? did i make that up?" you rubbed your eyes in thought. when you opened them, everything was blurred but the annoyance on euijoos face. like youd crossed a boundary you didnt know hed set. he scoffed, shaking his head. you added, "i thought i was helping!"

there was a beat of silence, thick and palpable.

"i just wanted to be with you," he sighed, sitting on the bed again but on the opposite side, his back facing you. you saw him take a deep breath before laying down, stretching out over the length of the bed. he mumbled, "just forget it."

you swallowed the lump in your throat and stretched out, too, on your own bed. you curled into your side, watching his chest rise and fall. his eyes fluttered closed, but you knew he wasnt sleeping. you let the silence dissipate, the air conditioning unit in the corner rumbling as the crisp air blows through the curtains.

"uh," you cleared your throat after what felt like hours of silence but you knew was closer to twenty minutes, "we have that, um, scuba lesson in a bit... that we did pay for. just by the way."

the scuba lesson seemed like a great way to get your "experience" fill for this trip, and euijoo had always talked about wanting to explore the reef or swim with dolphins. the passes werent that expensive on their own, but you'd pre-rented the gear.

euijoo didnt turn his head to look at you and, instead, just spoke to the ceiling like he didnt care if you heard it or not. "go without me," he said, "you'll just try to set me up with the instructor, anyway."

you were able to refund the rental fee for the gear, but you wished you'd have just refunded the whole lesson. floating around in spandex was a lot less fun alone, you'd realized. the whole lesson was weirdly intimate without euijoo there, just you and the instructor, who wasnt even hot. you wondered whether to tell euijoo that detail or just leave it alone. you wondered whether to tell him anything at all.

he didnt give you much of a choice, though. when you got back, he was no longer on his bed. or in the room. it was like he was never there save for the open suitcase kicked under a table, his comfy clothes from earlier strung haphazardly over the edge of the case.

you were thankful that you had upgraded your room when you booked, specifically for the two beds and larger bathroom. too many times had the two of you crammed into one bed or taken a piss while the other was brushing their teeth. the other benefit of the upgraded room: private access to a courtyard shared among the four private suites in your wing, which included a small pool, lawn games like giant chess, a self-serve bar, and a hot tub.

now, you're looking through the slatted blinds on your room's patio door, scouring the dimly lit courtyard for any sign of him. of course, the sun has set since you returned from your suddenly personal scuba lesson. the dew cast a fog on the glass panes, additional clouds growing and dissolving from your breath as you press your forehead to the door. in the corner of the yard, you see a faint glow, pulsating in the dimming twilight.

when you approach the hot tub, euijoo looks tranquil, almost blissful. his head is tipped back, eyes sewn shut as the water laps at his bare torso. the waves from the jets cast swirling reflections on his skin, everywhere. you're almost close enough to step into the water when you hesitate, stopping, considering leaving him alone and just going to bed. his eyes open, but hes not shocked to see you. he doesnt even jump, just pulls his lips into a small smile.

"come on in," euijoo nods to the space across from him, watching your every move. despite his kindness, you cant help but feel like he's analyzing you, waiting for you to say something stupid again. "how was diving?"

"humiliating," you sigh as you sink into the water. euijoos head is tipped down, chin tucked and watching you from under heavy lids. you can't deny how cold the water feels on your skin, unfamiliar warmth dancing up your arms, your chest. your neck. "i mean, i was a pro, as you can imagine. but the whole thing was... lonely."

euijoo hums to suppress a laugh. he does this often, not wanting to encourage your antics, but you can always see the little glint of humor in his eyes. usually, the smile would break loose. he'd let a laugh loose and pretend it never happened. but now, hes bittersweet, regretful. he takes a deep breath.

"i should've went with you," he says, stopping to chew at the inside of his cheek, "i was being a dick."

"yeah," you deadpan, and he looks at you with sorrowful eyes before you kick your leg up out of the water, splashing him. his hands come up defensively to shield his face, water running down his forearms. he laughs, flipping his hand over the surface to send a spray of water toward you, instead. you continue, "but so was i. i shouldn't have assumed you were interested in sex."

euijoo smiles, softly, at your attempt at an apology. that might be the best he's gonna get, and he can't stay mad at you for long. he opens up his arms, nodding his head to the side, "come here."

and as you scoot along the edge of the hot tub, you can see just how flushed his face is from the heat. droplets of water cascade down his cheek, dripping from his jaw. his shoulders glisten with a sheen of sweat, but his skin is cold when you rest your cheek on it. euijoo wraps his arm around the side of your neck, pulling you close. it should be disgustingly sticky, but it isnt. it's nice.

it's too nice, too comfortable. you'd even call it perfect, the fit of his arm over your shoulder, his skin against yours. euijoo's chest rises and falls in your periphery, the swelling of his lungs matching the ever choppy bubbling of the water. he grows rigid against you, shifting in his seat on the hot tub's bench.

suddenly, euijoo pulls his arm from around you. he folds his arms firmly over his chest, sighing deeply before clearing his throat. you retreat from your position, uncurling from his side and turning in your seat to face him. your brows furrow, "whats up with you all the sudden?"

euijoo's eyes scan everywhere but your face, finding something interesting on the side of the hotel wall, maybe a curtain blowing in a window seven floors above. he sputters out a tragedy of an excuse, "you're- its the, um, the..." he shrugs, performatively wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "hot tub. its... so hot."

"oh, are you okay? do you need some water?" you reach out to feel his forehead, too, but he swats your hand away, shifting his body away from you.

"no!" his eyes widen, "i mean, yes, im okay. no on the water. just-"

"well, do you want to get out? we can watch a movie or something?"

"no," slower, after a visible gulp, euijoo says, "i cant."

you can barely hear him over the turbulent waves. the water around you gurgles over itself, sloshing out of the jets on your back and on the floor. columns of water billow up, wafting the burning scent of chlorine into the air. he cant? why wouldn't he be able to watch a movie with you? does he suddenly hate movies?

then, it clicks.

you reach behind his head, and, with a quick tap of a button on the tub's control panel, disable the jets altogether. the water goes still, leftover bubbles disappearing with a soft fizz. it's unnaturally quiet without the roar of the water pump or the disrupting slosh of waves on the plastic siding. theres nothing but the sound of euijoo's heart beating out of his chest and the choked gasp that leaves his mouth once he realizes what youve done.

"no fucking way," you mutter, half astonished and half teetering on a feeling you've been too scared to acknowledge for a long time, "byun euijoo, are you seriously hard right now?"

he rears his arm back and presses every button on the tub's control panel in search of the magic switch to turn the jets on and, hopefully, make everything stop. as soon as he presses it, you press it again. he presses it. you press it. back and forth and back and forth until he buries his face in his hand and groans, "please, just go inside. forget everything. forget about me. let me die here."

"don't be embarrassed, juju," you laugh, gently grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from his flushed face. as you lower them to the water, his eyes never leave the place where your fingers wrap around his. his expression is a mix of confusion and humiliation, chased by a rush of curiosity at your tender reaction. "i could go away. i could just go to bed."

youre sure he can see the ideas bounding in your head, bouncing from one side of your skull to the other and skipping all the zones in your brain that would tell you that this is a bad idea. its situations like these that should exist only as hypotheticals, like a fever dream just as its about to break. or a one-time daydream scenario after a hangout where he looked a little too good. maybe he wore that sweater you liked, let his jeans hang a little too low on his hips. but you had gotten very good at separating your feelings from the reality that euijoo is your best friend and could never be anything more. at least, he never showed it. not until now, having skipped all the casual flirting or cheesy pickup lines and went straight to business. straight to driving you crazy all week with his perfect, sunkissed skin and slender fingers massaging sunscreen along your spine, working lower and lower, dipping under your swimsuit bottoms just in case.

"or," you guide his wrist until his hand is cupping the side of your neck, his damp fingers instinctively threading into your hair behind your ear. you whisper, "or, i could stay."

his touch is gentle, like hes afraid he'll do something he'll regret. you're scared, too, but you inhale, chlorine rushing to your head. when you exhale, you bring your own palm and place it over his, encouraging him to please touch you. you continue, "you know, i think i understand why you didnt care about the receptionist, or that woman at the pool, or at the bar."

euijoo hums, finally heeding your silent plea and sinking his fingers deeper into your hair. he tilts your head gently as you speak, following the movement with his own head, mirroring you. his lips part, only slightly and only once youre done speaking. "you do?"

"mhm," you let him puppeteer you, letting the weight of your head fall into his firm grasp as he cranes your neck backward, exposing the front of your throat, and then back to the side, swiping his thumb under your jaw, "but i wanna hear you say it. wanna know for sure."

euijoo whines, softly, and you feel it go right to your stomach, heat pooling in your veins. you clench your thighs together, absentmindedly, as he swallows the rest of whatever sounds were threatening to spill from his mouth. you feel his hand shaking against your neck, and you reach up again to hold him, steady him. you move your other hand under the water in search of his free hand, pulling it closer to rest on your thigh. euijoo squeezes your leg, just once, and releases a shaky breath, "they're not you."

euijoo sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth as you lean further into his hold and press your lips to the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. you feel on fire as you dart your tongue out, running it along the ridges of his veins. he tastes like chemicals and sweat but somehow sweet, like burning citrus.

"fuck, they're not you," he whispers to himself, fingers dragging, tentatively, up your thigh, "would you... would you like it if i kissed you?"

you pull your lips away from his hand just to laugh, quietly. you feel bad for the reaction, but he's just so desperate, nervous. your body moves before your mouth can, suddenly draping your legs over either side of his hips, his fingertips still digging into the flesh of your thigh. you keep yourself planted in the middle of his lap, careful to distance your core from where he obviously wants you.

you hover your lips over his, and its clear to you that euijoo is not breathing. his eyes are blown wide with an emotion you cant decipher as excitement or disbelief, and his chest is frozen in a perpetual inhale. as you speak, your bottom lip grazes his, "there's really only one way to find out, hm?"

the first kiss is curious, hesitant, as euijoo closes the short gap between you. his lips are plush, just as you expected and more. he brings his other hand from your thigh to the other side of your face, cupping it softly, and sighs into you. the trickle of water from his fingers that trails down your neck sends a chill through your body that completely contradicts the heat you feel from the water, from him. as he pulls away, you tug his bottom lip between your teeth, tethering the two of you together for just a second longer. euijoo whimpers, and you drink it all up as you release him from your teeth. you cant tell if his face is flush from the heat or embarrassment, growing shy under you in every aspect, physically and under your intense gaze that scans every crease and corner of his face. he smiles as you land on his eyes. you comb your hand through his hair, smoothing it away from his face the way you like it.

the second kiss is more of everything, swallowing his smile and his sounds. your mouths work purposefully against each other, as if to memorize the exact way his lips fit into you. its a deliberate exploration, teeth nipping, tongues melding and soothing. all while his hands slide, slowly, from your face down your body. euijoo's fingers ghost under your ribs, squeezing your hips in a silent encouragement. your fingers snake around his neck, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"you're driving me fucking crazy," euijoo mumbles against your lips, digging his fingernails into the skin of your hips, "all ive ever wanted."

his confession strikes you, humming against him in acknowledgement. you dont know if you can ever stop kissing him, which, coincidentally, is the same reason you had avoided trying before. your friend group had played their fair share of party games, which almost always ended with then drunkenly pushing you and euijoo toward each other while shouting, "kiss! kiss! kiss!" but you'd laughed it off thinking euijoo would never want risk your friendship for something as childish as spin the bottle.

if you had known you'd be in his lap in a public hot tub sucking on his tongue, maybe you'd have tried it a bit sooner.

you involuntarily rock your hips forward, body in search of some friction, and when you brush against the bulge in his swim shorts, euijoo groans into your mouth, body jerking in surprise. you hum against his lips, gauging him. euijoo pulls you forward again, hands snaking from your hips around to your ass. you always admired his delicate hands, but now youre wondering just how rough he could be with them as you roll your hips one more time against him.

"fuck," you rest your forehead against his as his straining cock nudges your clothed clit, the muted friction building, "have you had a big dick this whole time and didnt tell me?"

"have you- shit- ever been s-serious a day in your life?" euijoo chokes out, balancing the sweetest smile and the most intense crease in his brow. you're only teasing him, but it's not much of a joke. earlier, the bubbles and the dim lighting of the courtyard and the optical illusion that is water only barely revealed his predicament to you. you couldn't really see it. but, now, you can feel it. long and slender and trapped.

"i wanna touch you," you confess, flicking your gaze from his face to the space where the two of you meet, watching his pupils blow, watching his hips jerk in anticipation, "would you like that, juju?"

if he wasnt completely at your mercy, a puddle beneath you, he would have definitely flipped you off for turning his own question against him. instead, euijoo just nods, hastily. like you'll change your mind about him. he nods, eagerly. like he's been waiting to let you have him.

you hook your fingers into the elastic waistband of his shorts, pulling them down just enough for his cock to bob free under the water. euijoo moans under his breath at the lack of restraint, but he yelps as you wrap your fingers around the base of it, squeezing gently, experimentally. euijoo screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back as you drag your hand all the way up his throbbing shaft, babbling curses and your name like you're killing him. he opens his eyes only to look around, checking the windows and doors of the other suites near you.

"scared of getting caught?" you twist your hand, sinking it back down along his velvet, honey veined skin before moving to press directly on the angry, pink head. euijoo whines, bucking up into your hand and biting the back of his hand to muffle his cries. you smooth over the tip with your thumb, "you dont want anyone to see how good you're being for me? or hear how pretty you sound, juju?"

you pull his hand away from his mouth with your free hand, "let them hear. tell them how good it feels, baby."

you increase your pace. euijoos eyes focus on the rippling water where your arm works him under the surface, your grip firm and natural like your hand was designed for him, like you were. his jaw is slack with pleasure, shivers sliding over his body every time you slow your movements, rocking your hips on his leg in a similar rhythm. he groans, "feels so good. s-so fucking good."

youd be lying if said you weren't the most turned on you've ever been in your life. every movement of your wrist disturbs the water, as well as the sloshing of the water between your torsos as you grind yourself onto his thigh. youre chasing your own high, although priority number one is to see what sounds euijoo makes when he comes. in your wettest dreams, he was a heavy breather, but you realize now that your mind could not have conjured his sweet mixture of sinful mewls, husky groans, and breathy moans. and thats only what he has let you hear, still holding himself back for the sake of privacy. you'd hate to be seen, to have an outsider ruin this perfect moment. at the same time, however, the thrill of being caught tempts you to draw this out as long as possible.

"im gonna come," euijoo pants under you as you attach your lips to the column of his exposed throat, savoring the chlorinated citrus flavor of his skin, "fuck- i dont wanna come in the water. thats so gross."

you worked your lips up to his ear, slowing your wrist and nipping at his earlobe with your teeth. you whisper, "then come inside me, euijoo."

when you pull back, he's scanning your face for a semblance of humor, as if it were a joke. but you've never been more serious. this is the first time, probably ever, that you've been completely serious on a trip with him. you nod, just to reassure him as you continue ferociously milking his cock, pumping him.

"god, okay, okay," he gives in, breathless. his hair has fallen back into his face, obscuring your sight of his full pupils and glassy eyes, "i'd love to come inside of you. cant believe im even saying that- fuck."

you watch him, even more carefully now. he's beautiful in a way you've noticed before but struggled to put into words. you're sure he has ruined you for everyone else as you study the pulsing vein in his neck and the bobbing lump in his throat. just as his whines get shorter, breathing ragged and hoarse, you inch your throbbing core closer to his cock. you move your swimsuit bottoms out of the way and nudge your entrace with his tip. euijoo releases his hold on your hips so as to not slam you down and fuck you senseless, letting you control the moment, go at your pace. unfortunately for him. instead, he connects your lips in a tender kiss, licking into your mouth and stifling your moans.

the stretch is welcome, eagerly anticipated. but the water perpetuates a burning friction as you suck him in. you sigh into him as you feel the tip of him drag all along your walls. you clench, adjusting to his length as you steady yourself on his shoulders.

"ah-" euijoo gasps into your mouth, breaking free from the kiss and burying his face in your neck. he rests his forehead on your shoulder as his body tenses, snaking his arms around your waist, "coming. fuck, i-im-"

the warmth spreads low inside of you as he releases, burning white ropes plugged deep by his twitching, spent cock. euijoo comes with a silent, choked groan, followed by a sweet series of high-pitched, exasperated whimpers. you coax every sound you can from him, clenching around him, rolling your hips, and dragging your nails down his back. you allow him to just exist for a moment, connected to you in every way. his arms are still wrapped tightly around your waist, hands splayed over the expanse of your back. his heavy breathing fans over your chest, hot and slowing. his dick is still buried inside of you, now soft.

"euijoo," you say, stroking the back of his hair, "can you look at me, please?"

"not yet," he mumbles into your skin, "i'm thinking."

"thinking?" you roll the word around in your mouth a few times, walking your fingers up and down his spine, "did i fuck some sense into you?"

euijoo laughs, this time aloud. his shoulders rack under your touch. you cant help but smile as he sits up, finally, and leans back against the side of the hot tub, "wow. im literally still inside of you and you've managed to insult me. thats gotta be a new record."

youre going to see this every time you close your eyes: euijoo, fucked out and glowing, with faint bruises and pink marks up the column of his throat. you dont even care that youre staring. evidently, you didn't offend him too much, since you feel his cock begin to grow hard inside of you again. he likes it, you realize.

euijoo draws you closer, connecting your lips for one final and chaste kiss. his plump, swollen lips turn up in a smile against you. but when you pull away, he looks perplexed, like he's just remembered something. "really quick, then we can go in."

"okay," you shift uncomfortably on his lap, anxiously awaiting what could be literally anything. it's difficult to tell with euijoo. this could be anything from a sex critique to an addition to tomorrow's vacation initerary, "im all ears."

"earlier," euijoo starts, innocently scanning your face, "you said that you were sorry for playing matchmaker because you didnt know i 'wasnt interested in sex.' and, well, i just-"

"nope," you stand up from your position on his lap, quickly adjusting your bottoms to prevent any of his cum to drip into the water. you resist the urge to whine at the loss of fullness, suddenly empty as you wade out of the tub. however, you are not about to let him get the last a-ha moment, especially when youre full of his cum and still waiting on your own orgasm, "you know exactly what i meant by that."

euijoo cranes his head to follow you as you retreat back to the room, projecting his voice a little too loud, "i am interested in sex, just by the way."

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he groans quietly, pressing his face further into your hoodie. “it’s too early for talking.”

“you literally talked first.”

“that doesn’t count.”

you laugh softly under your breath.

he sounds so sleepy it’s almost unfair.

you turn slightly in his arms so you can look at him properly.

big mistake.

his hair is messy in every direction, eyes barely open, cheeks still soft with sleep, and somehow he still looks devastatingly pretty.

your heart immediately folds in on itself.

nicholas notices you staring after a second.

“…why are you looking at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like you’re having a full internal crisis.”

you let out a soft laugh. “maybe i am.”

“why?”

you smile a little into the pillow, cheeks warm. “because you look really cute right now.”

nicholas pauses for a second.

then, very quietly, he pulls the blanket up over part of his face like that somehow fixes the situation.

you stare at him.

“…are you hiding?”

“no.”

“you literally are.”

“it’s too early to be perceived.”

you laugh again, brighter this time, and he peeks at you over the blanket like he physically cannot help it.

there’s something so soft about him in the mornings.

less composed.

less careful.

just yours.

you try sitting up again.

before you can get very far, nicholas catches the sleeve of your hoodie lazily between his fingers.

“where are you going?” he mumbles.

“the bathroom.”

he frowns immediately, still half asleep. “again?”

you blink. “i haven’t gone yet.”

“oh.”

he thinks about that for a second.

then tightens his arm around your waist anyway.

“still. don’t go.”

you laugh softly. “you’re so clingy in the mornings.”

“only because you’re warm,” he murmurs against the pillow.

then, quieter:

“and because i like you a lot.”

his voice is lingering when he says it, like it slips out before he can think too hard about it.

and somehow that makes your heart feel even lighter.

because he says it like it’s nothing new.

like it’s always been true.

like it’s just part of the morning, the same way the sunlight is.

your face warms immediately.

nicholas notices, of course.

he always does.

a small, drowsy smile tugs at his lips. “there it is.”

“what?” you mumble, already trying to hide behind the pillow.

“you getting all shy again.”

“i’m not shy,” you insist, though your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

you pull the blanket up a little more anyway, hiding your face.

nicholas lets out a quiet laugh and gently tugs it back down just enough to see you.

“don’t hide,” he says, still smiling. “i like seeing you like this.”

your chest melts a little at that.

actually, a lot.

you glance down after a second and realize—

“…wait. this is your hoodie.”

nicholas hums softly, still half asleep. “yeah.”

you blink slowly. “when did i steal this?”

“you didn’t steal it,” he says.

“then why am i wearing it?”

he takes a moment, eyes barely open, like he’s searching his sleep-fogged memory for the right explanation.

“because you said yours didn’t smell like me.”

you go completely still.

“…i said that out loud?”

“mhm.”

your voice drops immediately. “that’s so embarrassing.”

nicholas just smiles a little against the pillow. “i thought it was cute.”

you make a small noise of protest and hide your face in the pillow right away.

he laughs softly and reaches over, fingers brushing your hair back with slow, careful movements.

“you were half asleep,” he murmurs. “you also called me ‘home’ like it was a personality trait.”

“nicholas,” you whine quietly. “please stop remembering things.”

“and then,” he continues anyway, way too pleased with himself, “you took my hoodie and refused to give it back.”

you peek out slightly. “in my defense… it’s really comfortable.”

“i noticed.”

you sit up a little, still hiding half your face. “so this is what our relationship has come to?”

nicholas hums thoughtfully, eyes soft.

“apparently,” he says, “i just get robbed and complimented a lot.”

you finally crack a smile.

“and you’re okay with that?”

he reaches for your hand under the blanket, lacing your fingers.

“yeah,” he says simply. “i’m willing to suffer through it."

you peek up at him finally, and he’s already looking at you.

softly.

like he always does when you’re not paying attention.

your stomach flips a little.

“what?” you ask quieter this time.

nicholas shrugs slightly against the pillow.

“nothing,” he murmurs. “i just really like waking up next to you.”

your entire brain goes completely still.

he says things like that so gently too.

never dramatic.

never forced.

just honest enough to make your chest ache.

“you’re being suspiciously sweet right now.”

nicholas hums a little, still half-asleep. “maybe i just like you.”

you blink at him, caught off guard for a second.

then you smile anyway, like you can’t really help it.

“that’s not a fair answer,” you mumble softly.

he shifts closer under the blanket, “why not?”

“because now i don’t know what to say.”

that makes him smile—small and drifting, but so fond it’s impossible to miss.

his hand finds yours under the blanket again, fingers slipping into yours easily.

“you don’t have to say anything,” he says quietly. “just stay.”

your chest feels warm immediately.

“…i was going to,” you admit, voice softer now.

“good,” he murmurs. “then we agree.”

you glance at him, still smiling a little.

he’s looking at you like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

like he wouldn’t want anywhere else.

and somehow, that makes you relax even more into him.

“i never want mornings like this to end,” you say quietly.

his expression softens instantly.

he’s quiet for a moment, then breathes out a small laugh that isn’t really amused—more like he’s trying to believe you.

“why would it have to?” he asks gently.

The three of you were enjoying a well-deserved vacation and had come back to your rental for the night. The bedroom had two queen beds and one sleeper sofa. It was a given you got one of the beds, leaving Euijoo and Nico to arm wrestle over who would be sleeping on the sofa.

Euijoo lost.

Nico opened the window between the two beds, letting a perfect breeze blow in carrying the salty scent of the ocean. You opened your bag and started rifling through your things, exhausted in the best of ways.

It had been a busy day of sight-seeing and eating, photographs and thrills. Memories you would carry for the rest of your life. You couldn't have asked for better friends than the two boys you seemed to take with you everywhere as you explored all the world had to offer.

The only downside was the single bathroom in the rental that would have to be shared by the three of you. After winning rock, paper, scissors, you got to go first, leaving Nicholas and Euijoo to scheme in your absence.

You were tired after a long evening at the beach with the boys. Resting on your stomach, you bunched a pillow between your arms and opened the lastest novel you'd been reading, letting it help you wind down.

Rare silence filled the room. Eventually, you clocked Nicholas and Euijoo watching you, their hair still damp from their showers.

"It's too quiet," you said after a moment, eyes still on the book. "Did you guys fight?"

"No, we're good," Euijoo replied hurriedly, looking to Nico for confirmation. You glanced over just long enough to watch the two of them nod awkwardly.

With a giggle, you teased, "Did you guys fuck?"

"What?" Euijoo exclaimed, while Nico said, "No," without missing a beat.

"Then, why are you being weird?"

"She knows us too well," Nico mumbled under his breath to Euijoo, but you heard and smiled. Nico turned to you and said, "I dared Euijoo to do something, but he's too scared of you to do it."

Euijoo made a face, insulted and flustered.

You scoffed, flipped the page of your book nonchalantly, and asked, "Why would Euijoo be scared of me?"

"I'm not."

"Just do the dare then. I'm not gonna bite you."

Euijoo's cheeks were getting redder by the second.

To be fair, you'd been best friends with Euijoo and Nicholas for many years. Yes, you flirted. Yes, you guys talked openly about everything. Yes, sometimes sexual tension started to arise.

So when Euijoo came over and crawled onto your bed, you didn't bat an eye. You read through another paragraph like it was nothing. But when he straddled your ass, framing your hips with his knees, you stopped and lifted your head.

"Nico, what the fuck are you up to?" you snapped, turning to look at your trouble-making friend lounging comfortably on the other bed.

Nicholas, to the surprise of no one, was leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head as if he were back at the pool. "I knew it," he said with a big devilish grin. "His dick is chilling between your ass cheeks right now and you're letting him get away with it."

"What did you want me to do - kick him?"

"Tell him to get off."

Something flickered across your face and you narrowed your eyes at Nicholas in a scowl before finally glancing over your shoulder at Euijoo, who was hovering above you. And you quickly realized he looked a little too good at that angle.

"Get off?" you asked, smirking. "Good choice of words, Nico."

The slightest panic raced across Nico's face and he knew then and there you were about to beat him at his own game, like you always did.

Propping up on your elbows, you turned your attention back to Euijoo, who had been gravely silent as if waiting for his fate to be decided, and asked, "You alright up there?"

Euijoo swallowed the lump in his throat. "Don't kill me. It was his idea." But frankly, Euijoo was so turned on he couldn't see straight.

You laughed and turned back to your book, saying, "Read this."

Euijoo leaned a little closer, his lips by your ear and you could hear every tense, labored breath he took. His cock was still nestled against your ass, half-hard now just from feeling the warmth of you.

You pointed to where you'd been reading and Euijoo's eyes widened in shock.

"Dude, she's reading porn!"

"No fucking way," Nico exclaimed in disbelief, getting up from the bed to investigate.

You flashed another glare at him and warned, "Nicholas, you come over here and you'll both regret it."

Nico very submissively walked backwards to his bed and flopped back onto the mattress in defeat.

Euijoo's heart was racing so hard you could feel it thumping through you. Giving him a little smile that promised either pleasure or retribution, he zeroed in on you like a heat-seeking missile.

"Keep reading," you said lowly.

Euijoo's gaze fell back to the page and not a second passed before you were moving underneath him. And his heart stopped altogether.

You rolled your ass against his clothed cock, arching so his length would feel your folds through your tiny shorts. You could feel him getting harder and that made you smug, but your focus soon became just how big he was and how far you were going to let him go.

"Fuck," Euijoo stuttered, his hips connecting with your ass in a sharp thrust.

It caught you by surprise. "Easy, Juju," you chided playfully when he snapped his hips against your ass again, a little harder this time, jarring you on the bed.

Euijoo stopped, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. "Sorry."

"Oh, come on," Nico said impatiently.

You checked on him out of the corner of your eye and taunted, "Enjoying the show?"

"Nothing's happened yet for me to enjoy."

You were never one to back away from a challenge, or for a chance to make Nico shut the fuck up. You could tell by his eyes that he wanted to be the one rubbing his dick against your pussy, and part of you was a little stunned when you realized you would let Euijoo fuck the shit out of you just to piss Nico off.

Tossing your book to the side, you reached back with both hands and shimmied your pants and underwear down slowly until your bare ass was on display.

"Your turn," you told Euijoo, shooting one more look at Nico. And you were thrilled to see he was burning alive with envy.

Never in a million years did Nico actually think you would let Euijoo fuck you just to spite him. And he was already thinking about all the angles he was going to hit it to punish you.

Completely oblivious to the silent exchange between his friends, Euijoo tugged down his sweatpants and freed his stiff cock, pumping it in his fist.

"Give me your hand," you said, turning slightly on your side.

Euijoo did as told and you brought two of his fingers into your mouth. Holding onto his heated gaze with your own, you sucked and licked his fingers until they were slick and then popped them out of your mouth.

"Put them in me," you whispered, glancing down at Euijoo's stiff cock that was so hard it curved toward his abs.

Euijoo glanced down at your plump ass and your perfect folds, and brought his wet fingers to your sex, slipping them inside your folds carefully. He found your entrance and pushed inside, making a little noise fall from your lips.

"Fuck," Nico growled as Euijoo stroked his fingers in and out of your cunt, a soft wet sound growing louder and louder with each stroke.

You whimpered as Euijoo worked you with his long fingers, gripping the pillow under your head with both hands. You were getting so fucking turned on by Nico watching from the other bed, staring at your pussy sucking in Euijoo's digits like he was about to start drooling at the sight.

That made your walls clench and Euijoo groaned, "Fuck, you're so tight."

"Take your fingers out, Juju," you said quietly, running out of patience.

"Why? Does it hurt?"

"I want your dick."

Euijoo pulled his fingers from you and coated his cock with your slick. He gave it a few more pumps of his fist as he resituated his knees on opposite sides of your hips, pressing close to you and fitting the head of his length between your folds.

When he started pushing inside, you felt your walls stretching to accept him, and you fisted the blanket beneath you. Oh, shit, you thought, wondering how the hell he was going to fit fully inside you. Not wanting to fill the room with your moans, you buried your face in the pillow to stifle your cries.

Euijoo listened to your little sounds and he kept stroking his cock into you, opening you up for him, sinking in deeper with each slow thrust into your wet, hot cunt. Once he was balls deep, he braced his hands on the mattress and moaned, "Fuck."

You lifted your head from the pillow and sucked in a gulp of air, whining, "Oh my god, Euijoo. You're so..."

Euijoo was long fucking gone over the way you'd just said his name. He immediately drew his hips back and slammed his cock back into you, making you jerk forward onto the pillow, wanting you to chant his name like that until your voice broke.

Nico watched Euijoo fuck you and his blood boiled. Euijoo was too soft; he pumped his cock in your pussy, but he didn't pull your hair or slap your ass, and Nico knew that was what you wanted. You needed hard and rough, and Euijoo was too in love with you to get it done.

"Juju, grab her by the throat," Nico snarled, his dick hard and already leaking in his pants. He made no moves to touch it; he wouldn't give himself any relief until you were taken care of.

Euijoo didn't hesitate to wind his hand around you, clamping it on your neck, beneath your chin. He tipped your head up and made your back arch, slapping his hips into your ass faster.

You didn't expect him to turn your face toward his so he could seal his lips on yours, stealing a kiss and tasting you for the first time. It made you mumble against his mouth and you wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, but the words wouldn't come.

All you could manage was a curse or two. "F-fuck," you whimpered, winching your eyes closed. You had to give credit to Euijoo, he knew how to use that big dick. His pace was savage, stuffing you with every inch of his cock until the wet slap of your pussy sucking him in filled the room.

Euijoo kept his grip on your neck, panting, "Is it too rough?"

Before you could say anything, Nico snapped, "Don't fucking ask that. She wants you to use her."

Lips parted, you finally willed yourself to look over at Nico and the way he was smoldering almost made you come. You liked him watching how well you could take it, wanting him to praise you, but instead, it seemed he already had you figured out.

So, you tried to rile him up. "Jealous?"

"Why should I be?" Nico shot back. "It's my turn next."

You scoffed. "You think you get a turn."

Euijoo groaned, "Can both of you shut up? I'm gonna come."

You'd never heard Euijoo so mad in your entire life, and both you and Nico smiled at having gotten that rare reaction out of him.

"Come, Juju," you whispered, gripping the edge of the mattress tight. The bed was creaking loudly. Euijoo was using you like his own personal toy, and you were eating it up. Your pussy ached in the best way, kneading his length.

Euijoo abandoned your neck to grab your hips, moaning and panting as he released inside you, milking every drop of cum deep in your cunt.

When Euijoo slowly pulled his softening cock from your hole, you slumped into the bed, catching your breath. He was barely off the bed and the mattress dipped under Nico's weight, his pants on the floor.

Nico grabbed your waist and flipped you harshly onto your back, and hissed, "You're gonna watch me take this shit."

You reeled your hand back and swatted him across the face, making a loud slap echo through the room. Nico grabbed your wrists and pinned them on opposite sides of your head, his pupils dilated to black.

"Fuck," Nico growled, smashing his lips on yours in a heated, hungry kiss. "Do that again when I'm inside you."

With Nico's hands around your wrists like cuffs, you hooked your legs on his hips and drew him close. He shifted his eyes down your body to your glistening pussy and notched his cock at your entrance, watching Euijoo's cum slip out.

"What are you waiting for?" you asked hurriedly. You were on the edge, sore and aching, close to orgasm.

"Permission."

You swallowed to wet your throat and when Nico lifted his head to meet your eyes, you sank a little deeper into the mattress under the weight of his gaze. "Fuck me, Nico," you whispered.

Nico pressed in, inch by agonizing inch, and watched your body arch as pleasure coursed through you.

"Nico," you gasped, eyes lolling back when the head of his cock hit your sweet spot.

"Yeah, my pretty little slut," he taunted, releasing one of your wrists to wrap his fingers around your neck. "Take all that dick."

The moment he canted his hips back and shoved his cock into you hard, you swiped your hand at his face again, but with half the force.

Nico tightened his grip on your throat while his other hand swiftly hooked in the bend of your knee and pressed you deeper into the mattress, throttling his cock into you at a steady rhythm like he was out to prove your pussy was his.

"How long have you been thinking about this, Nico?" Euijoo asked, sprawled on the other bed like he had zero strength left in his body.

"You have no fucking idea," Nico said gruffly as he kept his eyes where your bodies met, watching his cock vanish inside your tight velvet walls.

"Then fuck me like you mean it," you told him, holding onto his waist for purchase.

Nico looked at your pretty face, marveling just how beautiful you could be while getting fucked, and joked, "You just want another load of cum in you."

You nodded.

"You were made to be used like this, pretty girl."

You bit your lip and purred, "Use me, Nico."

So he did, sheathing his cock in your pussy over and over until finally all the tension that had been building inside you snapped, taking you over the edge into euphoria. You cried out and moaned, digging your nails into Nico's skin as your body shook, clamping down on his dick.

Nico came without warning, your cunt tightening on him so hard that he couldn't help but release inside you with a ragged groan. You were coming down from the high and went limp underneath him as the last of his seed filled you, making you feel warm and full.

Unlike Euijoo, Nico collapsed on top of you, his body heavy on yours. The two of you breathed in perfect sync, trying to come back to your senses. Once he'd stopped shaking, Nico clambered off of you and sat up, falling back against the wall so you could move.

You turned your head and saw Euijoo, who was on his stomach in the other bed, his eyes batting sleepily. When your eyes met, he smiled softly, as if to reassure you the frienship wasn't totally fucked now.

Nico, on the other hand, after seeing you and Euijoo exchange looks, reached over and palmed your naked thigh, stealing your attention. You turned to him expectantly and Nico said, "We both want you."

"And I want both of you," you replied honestly.

"You'll have to choose one day," Euijoo whispered, frowning despite how hard he fought it.

You sighed. "Not tonight though. Tonight, it's just the three of us. And nothing else matters."

That coaxed a smile out of Nico. He sat up and began gathering you in his arms, rising from the bed to lower you to the mattress beside Euijoo. You let yourself melt between them, happy when Euijoo pulled the blanket over the three of you and Nico laid beside you on the other side.

When they started pressing kisses to your cheeks and your neck, and their hands began wandering over your naked body like it belonged to them now, you closed your eyes and smiled, knowing you were fucked.

roommate!ej who turns out to be the most perfect roommate ever. naturally tidy, always does his dishes, and notices the little things without you having to say anything. he makes extra coffee when you have early exams, does your chores when you're stressed without being asked, and remembers the foods you don't like.

roommate!ej who you trust completely. why wouldn't you? he's respectful about your space, knocks before entering rooms, and deliberately looks away if you're in your sleep clothes. you've caught him blushing when you emerge from the bathroom in a towel, but he always quickly excuses himself. he's just... good. kind. safe.

roommate!ej who is, unbeknownst to you, completely losing his mind. it started innocently—appreciating your laugh—but spiralled into something he can't control. now he notices everything: how you stretch in the mornings, how your shorts ride up when you lean forward to pick up the TV remote, and the little sounds you make when concentrating. poor baby feels disgusting about it.

pervy roommate!ej who times his showers right after yours because the bathroom still smells like your body wash. he'll stand there under the water, breathing in the scent of you, hand wrapped around himself thinking about what you were doing in here minutes ago. afterwards he can barely look at you, guilt eating him alive even as he knows he'll do it again tomorrow.

pervy roommate!ej who has stolen your underwear from the laundry more than once. he tells himself he'll give it back, but then he's in his room with the fabric pressed to his face, other hand working frantically as he imagines you wearing them. he can't bear to look at your defeated expression when you realise that another pair of panties has gone missing, so he replaces what he takes, ordering identical ones online so you never notice. isn't he so thoughtful?

pervy roommate!ej who can absolutely hear you through the walls on nights when you're feeling particularly pent-up. sometimes—when you think he's asleep—he hears the quiet buzz of your vibrator, the soft whines you try to muffle. now he eagerly waits for it, listens for the telltale signs, and matches his rhythm to the sounds you make.

pervy roommate!ej whose control finally snaps on a random friday. you'd come home tipsy, fallen asleep on his shoulder on the couch (he didn't move an inch, too worried about ruining your nap), and when you'd stirred awake you'd squeezed his hand and murmured, "you're the best, 'joo." thirty minutes later he hears it — you, in your room, and this time you're less quiet. this time he can hear his name. "ej... f-fuck... ej—" and something in him breaks completely.

pervy roommate!ej who is at your door before he can think, knocking urgently. you open it with your face flushed, sporting an oversized t-shirt, startled and ashamed and beautiful. "i heard you say my name," he says, voice rough. you freeze. "please don't lie to me. i need to know if i heard that right." you admit it — yes, you said his name. he steps inside, "how long have you been thinking about me like that?"

pervy roommate!ej who laughs without humour when you say weeks, maybe months. "you're so cute when you're embarrassed. you think that's weird? princess, i've been listening to you every time you get yourself off." he watches your expression shift from mortified to something heated. "you've been listening?" your lips part as you step closer. "show me what you do when i finger myself wishing it was you, juju." he lets out a wounded groan but you're already reaching for him, and then he's kissing you, desperate and clumsy and full of want.

pervy roommate!ej who takes control despite the obviously needy whimper that escapes him. his hands are everywhere — your waist, your hips, under your t-shirt. "tell me to stop and i will," he pants, but you're pulling him toward your bed. he lays you back, hands sliding up your thighs, and pushing your t-shirt higher. when he sees you're not wearing anything else he groans, "fuck. you were touching yourself like this? nothing underneath?"

pervy roommate!ej who spreads your legs and settles between them. "i need to taste you," he whispers into your skin. "i've imagined it so many times—" then his mouth is on you and he's moaning like he's the one being pleasured. he eats you out like he's starving for it, messy and enthusiastic. he whimpers against you, hips grinding against the mattress. "so, so good f' me," he mumbles. "better than i fucking dreamed—" he breaks off into a whine when you tug his hair, lost in the pleasure.

pervy roommate!ej who makes you come on his tongue and looks devastated when you pull him away. "please, princess. one more—" but you're pulling him up and kissing him to shut him up. "need you inside me," you gasp. he fumbles getting his clothes off, shooting you a shy smile when you help him unbuckle his belt. when he's finally naked, he looks almost nervous. "i might not last long. i've wanted this too much..."

pervy roommate!ej who lines himself up with shaking hands and pushes in slowly, and the moan that tears from his throat is obscene. "ohhh f-fuck—" he's trembling, forehead pressed to your shoulder. "you feel so p-perfect, better than anything i— shit, been dreaming about this every night—" he starts moving with a desperate pace, whimpering with every thrust. "so tight, so wet—" his rhythm falters. "mffngh i'm not gonna last, baby—"

pervy roommate!ej who buries his face in your neck when you tell him you're close. you clench around him and he sobs, hips stuttering. "please, can i— inside, please—" when you frantically answer yes, he comes with a loud cry along with you, eyes rolling back. he collapses on top of you, immediately apologising. "god, i'm sorry! that was so fast. give me ten minutes and i swear—" he stops when he notices that you're laughing, mumbling into his hair that it was nothing short of perfect.

pervy roommate!ej who gets that second round twenty minutes later. this time he's determined to make it last, maps every inch of your body with his mouth. even then, he can't stop the whimpers, the begging — "please touch me, baby. oh god, please, need you so bad—" it's the hottest thing you've ever experienced.

pervy roommate!ej who the morning after looks terrified, clearly expecting regret. instead you press a sweet kiss to his cheek and ask if he wants breakfast. "so we're okay?" he questions carefully, pretty eyes wide and hopeful. "more than okay. though, now that i think about it, a conversation about my disappearing underwear is due." he turns red, stuttering out an apology, "i'm so fucking sorry. it'll never happen again. i promise i'll stop—" you interrupt him with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him and biting your lower lip, "i didn't say stop, juju. just ask next time."

pervy roommate!ej who becomes an even better roommate after that, except now with benefits. still does all the thoughtful things, definitely, but also crowds you against the kitchen counter, leaves marks you have to cover for class, and pulls you into his room whenever the mood strikes (which is basically all the time). and every fuck, he's more pathetically whiny than the last, begs so adorably, and looks at you like he can't believe this is real.

one girl getting a little too close to euijoo - her hand on his shoulder, laughing at something he said, body leaning into his in a way which made your stomach turn and your jaw tighten.

it took you exactly a week filled with enormous amounts of frustration every time you looked his way to realise exactly why it was bothering you so much. you liked him. you didn’t want to deny it anymore. you couldn’t. the line you thought you were dancing around all this time has been long crossed, and it just so happened that your dear best friend had a similar realization not long ago.

which was exactly how you found yourself at his apartment.

your hands flew to his brown hair, tugging at it lightly as you got lost in the kiss - the moment a mix of pent up frustration and desire flowing deep within your bodies, lips moving against each other with hunger. his chest felt hot pressed up against you, perfectly contrasting the cool sensation coming from the wall behind you.

‘she was too close.’ you mumbled against his lips, hearing him chuckle into the kiss at your words. ‘touching you like you were hers. annoying.’

euijoo’s hand went up to cup your face, his fingers gentle against your flushed skin.

‘it’s been a week since that happened.’ he chuckled, cheeks rising as he smiled, a hint of cockiness clearly visible in the way he stared at you. ‘did it make you that jealous?’

‘mhm.’

euijoo leaned back for just a second, eyes scanning your face with need, and yet holding back from kissing you again just yet. his smile turned into something more sinister, almost as if he wanted to toy with you a bit before actually giving you what you want.

‘i’m afraid i didn’t hear an answer, my love.’

you sighed, defeated, euijoo’s smile only growing in size at your reaction.

‘it did. it did make me that jealous.’ you admitted, arms crossed over your chest, seeing his eyes glint with a hint of something darker, almost primal at your words. ‘i guess i’m just that greedy.’

‘oh, is that so? that’s… cute.’ euijoo murmured as he inched closer, a newfound confidence taking over him. his face was mere millimetres from yours - so close that you could feel his hot breath hitting your face, the proximity making him even more irresistible.

and to think just last week you still pretended he was only your friend.

your lips connected with his once more - the kiss hungry and passionate, your hands grabbing his shirt to bring him as close as humanly possible, wanting there to be no space left between your bodies. his hand slid lower, his grip on your waist firm and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, almost at the mercy of his every move.

you never felt like this with anyone else before: but euijoo was different. you loved him - it wasn’t just a physical attraction, but something deeper, something that had been growing and blooming for far longer than any of you have truly realised. an adoration that might’ve as well been growing ever since you first met, ever since his eyes first met yours long ago.

euijoo was… special.

his plump lips moved to the side of your jaw, tracing kisses down your neck, tongue dragging along your skin in a cool sensation. you gasped at his actions - only fuelling his confidence.

‘i’m glad you finally stopped denying it.’ euijoo mumbled against your skin, moving up to your lips again.

‘denying what exactly?’

‘that you like me a tad bit too much to be just friends.’ his voice was almost a whisper, his breath hot on your skin as he inched closer, noses brushing. ‘i don’t think i could’ve waited any longer.’

you smiled at his words, the look in your eyes soft and adorning for just a few seconds.

‘you’ll never get rid of me now, you know?’ you joked, looking up to meet his eyes. euijoo chuckled.

‘wouldn’t dream of it.’

perm taglist: @nichozzystuffs @woonhakfeet @ivehan @haorangis @choco-scoups @littlegummystar @mxriitaesz @luvkeiiii @ikigaijo

&team taglist: @starshuas @minhosimthings @makizdoll

Great.

You freeze, heat flaring behind your ears. Your hands go useless for a second, hovering above the mess as if you can will it back into order.

A hand appears in your periphery—long fingers, clean nails, a silver ring catching the light. He crouches without hesitation, gathering your books with a quick, practiced rhythm, as if helping is something he does the way other people breathe.

“Here,” he says, voice soft enough that it doesn’t disturb the quiet. “This one’s yours too, right?”

He holds up a notebook—yours, yes, with the corner bent and your name scrawled on the first page. When you look up, your mouth opens on a thank you that gets snagged on your own surprise.

Because Euijoo is—beautiful, yes, but not in a distant way. More like… deliberate. Like someone who’s learned how to exist in his own skin and decided to be gentle with the world anyway. He wears a plain hoodie and a scarf that’s too thin for the weather, and his hair is damp at the ends as if he ran here through drizzle. His eyes are dark and awake and kind.

“You dropped your whole semester,” he whispers with a faint smile.

You swallow a laugh, relief loosening the tightness in your chest. “I’m trying to make an impression.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Your fingers brush when you take the notebook. Electricity is such a cliché, but you feel something—small and quick and bright—skitter through your bones like a match struck in the dark.

He stacks the last book in your arms with careful precision. “Do you want help carrying these?”

You should say no. You’re an adult! You can manage a few books. But his hands are already reaching, his posture already angled toward your burden like he’s decided you’re something worth making lighter.

“Sure,” you whisper, and then, because the quiet makes honesty feel dangerous, you add, “If you don’t mind.”

He takes half the stack and nods toward the study tables. “I don’t.”

That’s it. That’s the beginning. Not fireworks. Not a dramatic confession under moonlight. Just a Tuesday that thinks it’s a Monday, and Euijoo deciding—wordlessly, instinctively—that you matter.

…

You become a pattern in each other’s lives the way the seasons become a pattern: slowly, then all at once.

At first it’s small. Study sessions that start as coincidence and turn into agreement. Coffee runs where he remembers—somehow—that you like two sugars and no lid because you hate the taste of plastic. Messages about deadlines, jokes about professors, photos of lecture slides taken at an angle because you’re late and he’s already in the room.

You learn him in pieces.

Euijoo taps his pen against his teeth when he’s thinking. He looks up when he’s nervous, like he’s checking the ceiling for permission. He laughs with his whole body—shoulders, eyes, hands—like laughter is a thing that has to be let out or it will split him open.

And he’s good. Not performative-good, not the kind of kindness that expects applause. Just—good in the way some people are good the way some nights are clear. He holds doors, yes, but he also notices when you’re quiet for too long. He walks you home when the campus gets emptier and the streetlights flicker, and he never makes it feel like a favor. He just… does it. Like it would be stranger not to.

One evening in late October, you’re sitting on the grass outside the student union, sharing fries that taste like salt and oil and comfort. The air smells like fallen leaves and distant smoke from someone’s cigarette. Euijoo has his knees pulled up, arms folded over them, scarf looped too loose.

You’re telling him about your family—some half-complaint, half-confession—and your voice does that thing it does when you’re trying not to be vulnerable.

He listens without interrupting. When you finish, you stare at the fries so you don’t have to stare at him.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

You glance up.

His eyes are steady, almost solemn. “You don’t have to earn love.”

The words hit you like a hand on your chest—not pushing, but anchoring.

You blink. “I—”

“You don’t,” he repeats. And then, softer, like he’s telling himself as much as you, “You’re already… you.”

You swallow. Something inside you shifts, like the world has tilted a degree in a direction you didn’t know existed.

For a second, you think you might cry. Instead, you steal a fry and point it at him like a weapon. “Are you always this serious?”

He breaks, smiling, tension falling away. “Only when it matters.”

“Does this matter?” you ask, waving the fry.

He watches you, eyes warm and bright. “Yes,” he says, and then he leans forward and bites the end of the fry you’re holding.

Your fingers freeze.

His lips brush your knuckles.

It lasts half a second. It feels like a lifetime.

You stare at him, caught somewhere between laughter and panic, and Euijoo’s gaze flickers—down, then up—like he knows exactly what he just did.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t look sorry. He looks… struck. Like he’s just realized something about himself and he doesn’t know where to put it.

You manage, very calmly, “It’s just a fry.”

He nods, eyes dropping again, voice rougher. “Yeah. Just a fry.”

But you both know it wasn’t.

…

The first time he kisses you is not planned, and that’s what makes it feel inevitable.

It happens in December, when the cold becomes a personality trait and the sky goes dark at four in the afternoon. Finals week has turned everyone into ghosts with caffeine breath. You’re exhausted in a way that feels like your bones are full of sand.

Euijoo finds you in an empty hallway outside a lecture room you’re not even supposed to be in, sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, your notes spread around you like you exploded.

He crouches beside you. “Hey.”

You lift your head. Your eyes burn. “I’m failing.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately, like he’s correcting an insult.

“I don’t understand anything,” you whisper, and the worst part is how true it feels in the moment. Like your brain is a locked door and you’ve lost the key.

Euijoo’s hand hovers near your shoulder, then settles there gently. His thumb moves once, a small stroke through your sweater. “Look at me,” he says.

You do.

He holds your gaze, steady as a heartbeat. “You’re tired,” he says. “Not stupid.”

Something in your throat tightens. “I can’t—”

“Breathe,” he tells you. “Just breathe with me.”

You inhale. He inhales. You exhale. He exhales. His eyes never leave yours, as if he’s physically keeping you from falling apart.

The hallway is silent, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above you, the distant sound of someone laughing far away like another world.

You don’t know who moves first. You only know that Euijoo’s face is suddenly closer, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your cheek, his palm warm against your cold skin. His eyes flick down to your mouth and back up, a question he doesn’t ask out loud.

You nod, barely.

He kisses you like he’s been carrying it for months. Like he’s been holding his breath and finally decided he’s allowed to exhale.

It’s not desperate. It’s not messy. It’s—precise, careful, reverent. He pulls back after a second, forehead almost touching yours, and you see it: the stunned softness in his eyes, the way his pupils look blown wide, as if he can’t believe this is real.

“Okay?” he whispers.

You laugh, shaky. “Yeah.”

He swallows. “I… I wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your heart kicks hard. “Why didn’t you?”

His gaze drops, and for the first time you see him looking unsure—Euijoo, who always seems so quietly certain.

“Because,” he says, voice low, “I didn’t want to be the kind of person who takes something you weren’t ready to give.”

You stare at him.

His eyes flick up again, earnest enough to hurt. “I don’t want to ruin you. Or—well, us.”

You lift a hand and press your fingers to his scarf, anchoring him the way he anchored you. “You didn’t.”

Something shifts in his expression—relief, tenderness, a bloom of something older than a crush.

He kisses you again, slower, and you swear you feel it all the way down to your ribs.

…

After that, you become each other’s home in the middle of everything that keeps changing.

You learn the shape of Euijoo’s affection: the way he tucks you into his side when you’re waiting for the bus, palm splayed on your shoulder like a claim that isn’t possessive, just protective. The way he watches you when you talk, like he’s memorizing the movement of your mouth, the curve of your smiles, the moments your eyes light up. The way he says your name like it’s a secret and a prayer.

Sometimes you catch him staring.

Not in a creepy way. In a wrecked way.

Like he’s looking at you and remembering that you exist, and it hurts him because it’s so beautiful it’s almost unbearable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask once, half teasing, half self-conscious. You’re sitting in his tiny dorm room, legs tangled on his bed, a cheap movie playing on his laptop. The air smells like laundry detergent and instant noodles.

He blinks, as if returning from somewhere far away. “Like what?”

“Like I’m—” You wave a hand, searching. “Like I’m the answer to a question you didn’t know you asked.”

His mouth twitches, but his eyes don’t soften into humor. They stay serious, almost raw.

“You are,” he says simply.

You laugh, because you don’t know what else to do when someone says something that honest. “Euijoo.”

He reaches out and takes your hand, threading your fingers together. His grip is firm—not painful, but solid, like a promise.

“I mean it,” he says, voice quiet over the movie’s dialogue. “Sometimes I look at you and I think… how is this real?”

Your chest tightens. “It’s real.”

He nods, but his gaze flickers, betraying something inside him that doesn’t fully believe he gets to keep good things.

You squeeze his hand. “Hey.”

He looks at you.

“Don’t make yourself suffer over something you haven’t lost,” you whisper.

For a moment, his eyes shine like he might cry. Then he lifts your hand and presses his mouth to your knuckles—gentle, devotional.

“Okay,” he breathes. “I’ll try.”

But you learn, over the months, that Euijoo’s love is not a simple thing.

It’s not light. It’s not casual.

It’s deep and old, like it was waiting in him long before he knew what to call it.

…

By spring, everyone knows you’re together.

Not because you make a show of it, but because Euijoo looks different when you’re near. Softer. Brighter. Like his body relaxes into a shape it prefers.

He walks you to class and carries your bag when you’re tired. He buys you ridiculous little things—a keychain shaped like your favorite animal, a cheap bouquet from the corner store because it “looked like you.” He leaves notes in your textbooks when you’re not looking: Eat. Sleep. Don’t die. I love you.

The first time he says it out loud is in April, on a night the wind is warm enough to feel like a hand.

You’re sitting on the roof of a campus building you’re probably not supposed to be on, legs dangling over the edge, the city sprawled below like a sea of lights. Euijoo has brought two cans of soda and a blanket that smells like him.

You’re talking about nothing—summer plans, internships, how adulthood feels like standing at the edge of a cliff and pretending you’re not scared.

Euijoo goes quiet. When you look at him, he’s staring at his hands, fingers worrying the tab of the soda can.

“What?” you ask gently.

He exhales, and the sound trembles. “I’m thinking,” he says.

“About what?”

He turns his head and looks at you.

And the expression on his face makes your breath catch—like he’s standing in front of something sacred. Like he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing and breaking it.

“I love you,” he says.

The words aren’t dramatic. They’re not shouted into the wind. They’re said like a fact. Like a confession. Like something he has carried for so long it has become part of his spine.

You stare at him, stunned for a second. And then warmth floods your chest so fast you almost choke on it.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Euijoo’s eyes squeeze shut for a heartbeat, as if he’s absorbing it physically. When he opens them, they’re wet.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft. “Why are you crying?”

He laughs, but it’s broken. “Because—” He swallows hard. “Because I didn’t think I would get this.”

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms. He clings like he’s been starving. His hold is careful but fierce, hands spread over your back, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

And you feel it: the way his body shakes, the way his breathing stutters, like his heart is trying to learn a new rhythm.

It hits you then, quietly, like a truth settling into place.

Euijoo loves like he’s afraid.

Not of you. Not of love.

Of losing it.

…

Time moves the way it always does—relentless and tender. You survive finals. You survive summers that stretch like taffy and winters that make your cheeks sting. You move from dorm rooms to tiny apartments, from instant ramen to grocery lists and shared chores, from “I miss you” texts between classes to “What do you want for dinner?” shouted from the kitchen.

You grow up together in all the unglamorous ways that matter.

And somewhere along the line, Euijoo changes.

Not in the sense that he becomes a different person—he doesn’t lose his gentleness, his quiet humor, his habit of tapping his pen against his teeth. But something in him settles. Deepens. Hardens into certainty.

You see it in the way he stands behind you when you’re cooking, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder. In the way he looks at you at parties, across crowded rooms, eyes finding yours like a compass needle snapping north. In the way he reaches for your hand in public without thinking, like your fingers belong there.

At first, his love feels like a bright, frantic thing—like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t hold you, you’ll disappear.

Then, gradually, it becomes something else.

Something older.

Something that doesn’t just want you.

Something that wants a life.

…

It happens on an ordinary day, which is how you know it’s real.

You’re in a grocery store aisle arguing about cereal, because you’ve reached that stage of intimacy where your biggest conflicts are about sugar content and brand loyalty. Euijoo has a box of something aggressively healthy in his hand, and you’re holding a bright, childish, chocolate-covered option like it’s the only joy left in the world.

“You can’t eat that every day,” he says, trying to sound stern.

“You eat instant noodles like it’s a personality,” you shoot back.

He huffs, amused. “That’s different.”

“It’s literally not.”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing, and you prepare for him to make some ridiculous comeback.

Instead, his gaze shifts—past you, down the aisle.

You follow it and see, near the endcap, a young couple with a toddler. The child is in a puffy jacket too big for her, hair sticking up in staticy wisps, cheeks flushed. She’s holding her parent’s finger with both hands, babbling happily while the adults laugh and try to wrangle her toward the cart.

It’s nothing special. Just life.

But Euijoo goes still.

Not stiff. Not tense. Just… quiet, as if something inside him has stopped moving long enough to listen.

You glance at him. “Euijoo?”

He doesn’t answer at first. His eyes are fixed on the child’s tiny hands, the way she leans into the safety of her parents like she has never doubted she’ll be caught.

When he finally looks at you, it’s like he’s seeing you in a new light.

His pupils are wide. His mouth is slightly open, like he’s been punched with the thought.

“What?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

He swallows. His throat moves hard. “I—” He stops, as if he doesn’t know how to say what’s in him without breaking it.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “What is it?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, then to your hands, then back to your eyes, like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“I don’t think,” he says slowly, “I love you like a boy loves someone anymore.”

Your breath catches.

He keeps going, voice raw, as if once he starts he can’t stop. “I think… I love you like—” He presses a hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his heart. “Like something in me is old.”

You blink, stunned. The grocery store hums around you: carts squeaking, a kid whining somewhere, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

Euijoo’s eyes shine. “Sometimes I look at you and it feels like my bones crack if I don’t hold you,” he whispers, and there’s a faint, trembling laugh in the words, like he knows it sounds insane but it’s true anyway. “And it scares me, because it’s not just… wanting you. It’s not just missing you.”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a confession meant only for you. “It’s like my soul knows you. Like it’s been waiting.”

Your hands tighten around the cereal box.

Euijoo reaches out and covers your fingers with his, warm and steady. “I keep thinking about… years,” he says. “Not just weekends. Not just next semester. Years. Like—”

He swallows again, and this time his voice breaks slightly. “Like I want to marry you.”

The words land in you like a bell struck deep.

Euijoo’s eyes fill. He looks almost anguished, like saying it hurts, like wanting you this much is something he both craves and fears.

“I want to call you my wife,” he whispers, and his expression twists, love and terror braided together. “I want… kids. I want to watch you hold our baby like it’s the only thing in the universe. I want to watch us get old and complain about our backs and still reach for each other in our sleep. I want to sit at a table with you and our grandchildren and think—we did it.”

Your throat tightens until you can barely breathe.

Euijoo’s voice drops even softer, almost a plea. “And it makes me feel like I’m breaking, because if I want it that much—if I let myself want it—then losing it would kill me.”

He looks at you like you’re the sun and he’s been orbiting you without admitting it. Like he’s terrified you’ll say no and confirm his worst fear: that good things aren’t meant to stay.

You set the cereal down carefully on the shelf, hands shaking just a little.

Then you step into him.

Euijoo inhales sharply when your arms wrap around his waist. For a second he’s frozen, as if he can’t believe you’re doing it, and then he folds around you—tight, fierce, protective. His hold is the kind of hold that says mine without ownership, home without walls.

You bury your face in his shoulder. “Euijoo,” you whisper, voice thick.

He presses his cheek to your hair. His breathing is uneven. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut in, pulling back just enough to look at him.

His eyes are wet. He looks wrecked.

You cup his face with both hands. “Look at me.”

He does, trembling.

“I want that,” you say.

He stares. “What?”

“You,” you whisper. “All of it. The years. The old love. The terrifying love. The stupid grocery store fights. The kids, if we decide. The getting old. The being yours.”

Euijoo’s breath leaves him like he’s been shot.

“You mean it?” he asks, voice cracked.

You smile through the ache in your chest. “I’ve meant it.”

His face crumples with something so intensely relieved it hurts to witness. He closes his eyes, forehead dropping to yours, and a sound escapes him—half laugh, half sob.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he whispers, words desperate with sincerity. “I’m going to love you so well. I’m going to—”

“You already do,” you murmur.

He shakes his head, as if he can’t accept that it’s enough. “No,” he says. “More. I will—more.”

And then, right there between the cereal and the pasta sauce, Euijoo kisses you like a man who has found the thing he intends to keep for the rest of his life.

Not reckless. Not showy.

Burning.

Deep.

Old.

Like he’s making a vow with his mouth.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining so brightly it feels like staring into a flame.

He looks at you the way people look at miracles.

And you realize something too, in the quiet after his confession:

Euijoo doesn’t love you like a story.

He loves you like a future.

…

Later, when you’re home and the groceries are half-put away and you’re both still dazed from what happened in aisle seven, he comes up behind you in the kitchen.

You’re rinsing apples at the sink. The window above it is dark, reflecting your own faces back at you: you in a soft sweatshirt, hair messy, Euijoo behind you like a shadow made of devotion.

He wraps his arms around your waist.

His chin settles on your shoulder.

You feel him breathe in, slow and deep, like he’s inhaling you into his lungs.

“You’re real,” he murmurs.

You turn your head slightly. “I’m real.”

His grip tightens, just a little. The kind of tightness that says he’s trying to fuse you into him.

You cover his hands with yours. “Hey,” you whisper. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

He exhales, shaky. “I’m not afraid of you,” he says.

“I know.”

He nuzzles your shoulder, voice low. “I’m afraid of how much I want this. Because it’s… huge.”

You turn around in his arms and face him fully. His eyes are soft but haunted, like the depth of his love sometimes scares even him.

You reach up and smooth your thumb under his eye, catching the smallest hint of moisture. “Then we’ll hold it together,” you say. “We don’t have to carry it alone.”

Euijoo stares at you like you’ve just handed him the missing piece of himself.

Then he smiles—small, trembling, utterly ruined.

“Wife,” he whispers experimentally, like he’s tasting it.

Your heart stutters.

You laugh, breathless. “Not yet.”

He nods, serious as a vow. “Someday.”

You lean into him, forehead against his, and for a moment the whole world narrows to the space between your breaths.

Euijoo’s arms tighten around you, and you understand what he meant about bones and cracking and needing.

His love is not gentle because it is weak.

It’s gentle because it is powerful enough to be careful.

“Someday,” you agree softly.

Euijoo closes his eyes, and his soul—no longer crying, no longer breaking—sounds like it’s finally found a place to rest.

And when he kisses you again, it’s not like a boy.

It’s like a man who has already chosen you for every version of the future.

Every season.

Every lifetime.

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