CRDTEEZV

21💜SHE/HER💜BLACK💜 ✨NCT FICS✨

[crdteezv]

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I’m currently dealing with school, so my uploads will be slow, but I’ll try my best to be more active here. I usually write darker content, so fair warning!

**If you prefer Ao3, here is my account!**

~ minors dni (18+) ~

Nct Dream + Wayv

Misc K-pop

Fic Recs

Updates /// Answered

[smidare]

thinkin abt frat teamies ‧ ₊ ♪ ˚ ⊹ ( ⁼̴̶̤̀ω⁼̴̶̤́ )

the big brothers ⋆.˚⊹⁺

k - frat president and golden boy. best dick game by far, considered pretty kind considering hes the captain of squad get ur dick wet. dont expect him to settle down with you though, hes super busy with nightball, dance and of course being the president of the frat. hes not really interested in relationships as hes about to graduate—but he might change his mind if you give him a reason to.

fuma - hottie vice pres !! doesnt speak a lot but can say a wholeeee lot w his eyes ~ not as bad a k when it comes to how much he fucks but when he fucks he fucks mean. he uses his nerdy personality to pull the cutest girls into his bed ! too bad he forgets ur name right after ,, graduates soon so he uses the same excuse as k. but also, may change his mind if you give him a reason to !

nicholas - social chair and flirty party animal !! best fashion, best dick (thats what he likes to say) has the biggest social circle and highest sex drive ~ loves public sex, will fuck u in bathrooms at parties in the frat house or even pull you into empty classrooms for a quickie between classes. absolutely does not commit, dont try to make him—his sex drive is too high for one person, maybe.. tip: if your sex drive is high, he might take you on as a regular

ej - house manager ,, sweet and kind ! really tried to keep things under control … his poor boys have such a bad rep so hes gotta clean up after them, but hes just as bad.. he uses his sweet persona to his advantage ! it gets him hella girls. cute smile whilst having nasty nasty sex w u ~ his soft rejection somehow always goes well, maybe its the pretty smile he flashes whilst he tells girls that hes too busy managing the frat to settle down. but hes a softie at heart, maybe a sweet girl will come along and fuck that fuck boy persona out of sweet ej.

yuma - house whore ! his rep is probably the worst out of the bunch. has a reputation of fucking girls and never speaking to them again. has been slapped on multiple occasions in the quad, frat house and even in classes.. all because he forgot what he said during sex or forgot the girls name. has amazing dick game tho, just try not to get attached ~ tip: how to be a heartbreaker

the younger brothers ⋆.˚⊹⁺

jo - joined the frat because he looks up to k ! was not expecting all the loud sex … is pretty shy but that also gets him girls ! they loveee a cute shy boy that knows how to fuck (thanks to his mentor k ! hes got good dick game~) would definitely settle down, but the others are trying to just make him a fuck boy too ,, i mean someones gotta carry on the legacy !

harua - rua has that pretty boy swag. hes cute, everyone thought he was gay for awhile until rumors started floating around that he fucked a girl so hard that he ruined her sheets and she had to toss them. hes a smooth talker, sweet talker. unless its in bed. go to rua if you need a pretty boy to put you in your place ! he’s still relatively quiet yet still pretty social-able ! thinks nicholas is super cool and joined because of him ~ not interested in relationships, just enjoys getting his dick wet lol. but that fuck boy persona hides the fact rua is a hopeless romantic at heart, you didn’t hear that from me though..

taki - belongs in the dog house, unfortunately living up to the fuck boy reputation ! on accident though,, he didnt mean to forget your name he promises ! its just hes fucked 3 different girls this week and they are all kinda blending together. fucks like a dog ofc ,, thick dick ,, mind blowing head game ! settling down seems cool to him, but maybe in a few years—hes just got so many bitches to fuck rn ! tip: walk him like a dog

maki - prettiest smile, even prettier dick. ropes girls in with the fact hes wasian, who wouldn’t want a pretty wasian boy fucking them dumb? doesnt sleep sleep around that much, has very specific girls he goes to ! u better feel lucky if he chooses you at a party though ~ might be the best dick of your college life , too bad u prob wont have it again. maki never fucks the same girl twice unless its one of his main bitches ~ maybe you’ll become one ? he did remember your name after-all

[smidare]

❤︎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the 5 times nicholas interrupts you and your boyfriend, ej and the one time he lets nicholas join.

•⠀‎‎  masterlist ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎𓋰‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎💬 ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎2,820 wc ─── ᛫ 王奕翔 & 변의주 x fem!r . cockblock weno, oral (m. rec) unprotected p in v sex, pulling out, doggy style, missionary, slight face fucking, double penetration, praise kink, dirty talk. don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

you’d been seeing euijoo for almost five months when the interruptions started becoming a problem.

it wasn’t that nicholas was doing it on purpose… well thats what you thought at first. you knew nicholas—not extremely well, but well enough. he was your boyfriend’s best friend, after all. the one who always offered you the last slice of pizza even when he was clearly still hungry. the one who’d randomly send you the most unflattering photos of euijoo mid-blink or mid-yawn with captions like “your man is broken, come fix him” even though every single picture just made your chest feel warm because he looked soft and sleepy and yours.

he and euijoo had been roommates since pre-debut, and old habits died hard. even as they moved into the new dorm, it was small, the walls were thin, and nicholas just seemed to have the worst timing in the world.

the first time.

it was a rare night when most of the members were out. you were curled up on euijoo’s bed, legs tangled with his, the movie on his laptop long forgotten. his hand was warm on your waist, thumb brushing just under the hem of your shirt. the kiss started soft—slow, careful, like he was still learning how much you could take.

then it deepened.

euijoo’s tongue slid against yours, his hand slipping higher until his fingers brushed the underside of your breast. you sighed into his mouth, arching into the touch. he made a low sound in his throat and rolled you onto your back, settling between your thighs, the weight of him delicious.

you were just starting to rock up against the growing hardness in his sweats when the door flew open.

“yoooo ej, did you borrow my black hoodie—oh.”

nicholas froze in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the scene: you flushed and panting under euijoo, euijoo’s hand still under your shirt, both of you staring at him like deer in headlights.

euijoo yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. you sat up so fast you nearly headbutted him.

nicholas’s ears went pink, but his mouth twitched. “my bad. i’ll… knock next time.” he grabbed the hoodie from the chair and backed out, closing the door with a soft click.

euijoo dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a groan. “i’m going to kill him.”

you laughed, breathless, still aching between your legs. “he didn’t even knock.”

“he never does…next time,” euijoo muttered, pressing a kiss to your neck, “i’m locking the door.”

the second time.

two weeks later, you were back.

this time the door was locked. euijoo had you pressed against it the second it clicked shut, mouth hot on yours, hands greedy. you’d barely made it to the bed before your shirt was gone and his was rucked up under your palms. he kissed down your chest, sucking a mark just above your bra, then lower, mouthing at the lace until your nipple peaked against the fabric.

you were grinding down on the thigh he’d slotted between your legs when the handle rattled.

“jju? you in there? i left my airpods on the desk—”

euijoo’s head snapped up. his voice was rough. “busy.”

a pause. then nicholas’s laugh, low and teasing. “yeah, i can hear that. i’ll come back later.”

you could hear the smirk in his voice. euijoo’s jaw flexed. he stayed perfectly still until the footsteps retreated down the hall, then he let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead between your breasts.

“i’m going to change the locks.”

you carded your fingers through his hair, trying to ignore how wet you were. “he knows, doesn’t he?”

euijoo didn’t answer. he just kissed the center of your chest and pulled you closer, like he could hide you and himself from the rest of the world.

the third time.

three weeks later, after a grueling back and forth from korea to japan for mc-ing. euijoo had completely forgotten about changing the locks.

you were on your back, euijoo hovering over you, both of you half-undressed. his mouth was hot on your collarbone, sucking a mark just below where your shirt would cover it. your fingers were in his hair, tugging gently every time he bit down. his hand had just slipped into your panties, two fingers teasing through your folds, when the lock clicked.

nicholas walked in like he owned the place, holding euijoo’s missing charger.

“yo jju, you left this in the—oh.”

euijoo’s fingers stilled inside you. you both turned your heads at the same time.

nicholas stood there, charger dangling from his fingers, eyes flicking from euijoo’s face to where his hand disappeared between your legs. he didn’t leave immediately. just… looked.

for three full seconds, nobody spoke.

then nicholas cleared his throat, set the charger on the desk, and backed out. “my bad. won’t happen again.”

the door clicked shut.

euijoo exhaled slowly, forehead dropping to your chest. his fingers were still inside you, and you were clenching around them without meaning to.

“he saw,” you whispered.

“i know.” euijoo’s voice was rough. he curled his fingers once, just to hear you gasp, then pulled them out. “he saw and he didn’t even pretend to be sorry this time.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. because the you also saw the look on nicholas’s face and it definitely hadn’t been sorry. it had been something else entirely.

the fourth time.

it happened on a friday night after a long schedule. you’d brought pizza because nicholas had texted you earlier saying “ej’s been in a weird mood, can u bring food? we can watch that new movie he wanted to watch.” you’d laughed, sent back a heart, and showed up with two boxes.

nicholas had answered the door, taken the pizza from you with a bright “thanks, you’re the best,” and even saved you the last slice like always. but when euijoo pulled you into his room later, the mood shifted fast.

you ended up on your knees between his thighs, his cock heavy and hot on your tongue. euijoo’s head was tipped back against the headboard, one hand gentle in your hair, the other fisted in the sheets. you were taking your time, savoring the way he twitched every time you swallowed around him, when the door opened.

nicholas stepped in.

he didn’t freeze this time. he just… stood there, watching. the pizza box was still in his hand.

euijoo’s eyes opened slowly. he didn’t tell nicholas to leave. his fingers tightened in your hair instead, guiding you a little deeper. you could feel nicholas’s gaze on the back of your head, on the way your lips stretched, on the soft wet sounds filling the room.

nicholas’s voice came out low. “you two are really bad at this whole ‘secret’ thing.”

euijoo’s answer was rough. “then stop walking in.”

nicholas didn’t move, he just scoffed “maybe i don’t want to.”

the air in the room went thick. euijoo looked down at you, then back at his best friend. for a second it felt like something was about to break.

“get out.” euijoo said, teeth clenched.

nicholas set the pizza box on the desk, turned around, and walked out.

euijoo came down your throat two minutes later with a quiet, frustrated groan, but he didn’t look satisfied. he looked like a man who was running out of patience.

the fifth time. 

you both were kinda done pretending the tension wasn’t there.

euijoo had you on your back, legs hooked over his shoulders, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. you were soaked, aching, nails digging into his arms. he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever—rubbing the head through your folds, pushing in just enough to make you gasp, then pulling back.

“please,” you whispered. “jju, i need—”

he started to push in.

the door opened.

nicholas stood there again. this time he didn’t even pretend he was looking for something. he just watched as euijoo slowly, deliberately, sank another inch inside you.

euijoo’s jaw was tight. he didn’t stop. he kept his eyes on nicholas while he pushed in deeper, until he was buried to the hilt and you were whimpering beneath him.

nicholas’s breathing had gone shallow. his eyes were locked on where you and euijoo were joined.

euijoo’s voice was low, almost dangerous. “you gonna keep doing this forever, nicho?”

nicholas shrugged, smirking then turned, and left.

euijoo fucked you after that—hard, deep, like he was trying to fuck the frustration out of both of you. you came twice, shaking, but when it was over he stayed inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

later that same night, the dorm was quiet.

euijoo had pulled you into his arms under the blanket, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing slow circles on your bare shoulder. for a while neither of you spoke. the only sound was the low hum of the air purifier and the distant sound of nicholas’s shower running down the hall.

finally, euijoo’s voice came out quiet.

“i need to ask you something.”

you tilted your head to look at him. his expression was serious, a little tired, but there was heat still lingering in his eyes.

“about nicholas.”

your stomach flipped. you stayed quiet, letting him continue.

euijoo exhaled through his nose. “he keeps walking in. every single time. and he doesn’t leave right away anymore. he… watches. and i keep telling myself it’s annoying. that he’s just being an idiot with no boundaries.” he paused, thumb brushing your collarbone. “but that’s not the whole truth.”

you swallowed. “what’s the truth?”

he was quiet for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“the truth is that every time he walks in and sees you like that—sees us—i get pissed off. but i also get hard. and i’ve noticed the way you react when he’s standing there. the way your body clenches around me. the way you look at him sometimes when you think i’m not paying attention.”

your face burned, but you didn’t deny it.

euijoo’s hand slid down to rest over your heart. “i’m not mad at you. i’m just… done pretending i don’t see it. he’s my best friend. he’s been sending you those stupid photos and saving you pizza and acting like he doesn’t want to be in the room with us. and every time he leaves, i can tell he’s hard. i can tell he wants it.”

he turned his head to look at you properly.

“so i need to know where your head is at. if nicholas walked in again… and i didn’t tell him to leave… if i let him stay… would you want that?”

the question hung between you, heavy and honest.

you were quiet for a moment, fingers tracing the lines of his chest. “i’ve thought about it,” you admitted softly. “more than once. the way he looks at me… it’s not just friendly anymore. and when he stays and watches… it does something to me. but i didn’t want to say anything because he’s your best friend and i didn’t know how you’d feel.”

euijoo’s arm tightened around you. he didn’t look upset. if anything, the tension in his shoulders eased a little.

“i feel like i’m losing my mind every time he interrupts us,” he said. “but i also feel like if we keep pretending this isn’t happening, it’s going to explode in a worse way.” he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “so if it happens again… i’m not stopping him. i’m not telling him to get out. i’m going to ask him if he wants to stay. and if you’re okay with it… i want him to join.”

your breath caught. “you’re sure?”

euijoo nodded, eyes dark but steady. “i’m sure. i want to see what happens when we stop fighting it. but only if you want it too.”

you nodded, heart racing. “i do.”

he pulled you closer, kissing you slow and deep, like a seal on the decision.

“next time,” he murmured against your lips, “he stays.”

the sixth time

you were already gone.

euijoo had you on your hands and knees, fucking you deep and slow, one hand fisted in your hair while the other gripped your hip. every thrust made you whimper into the sheets. the door opened, but neither of you stopped.

nicholas stood frozen in the doorway.

euijoo didn’t even look up. he just kept moving inside you, voice low and rough.

“just lock the door, nicho.”

the click caused a shiver to run down your spine.

euijoo pulled out of you with a wet sound and flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing. he climbed over your chest, knees on either side of your head, and tapped the head of his cock against your lips.

“open up, baby.”

you did.

he slid into your mouth with a low groan, one hand braced on the headboard while the other gently held your jaw. he didn’t thrust hard at first—just rocked in and out, letting you get used to the weight of him on your tongue.

nicholas was still standing there, hard and staring.

euijoo glanced at him over his shoulder, voice calm but commanding.

“well? you gonna keep watching or are you gonna fuck her?”

nicholas moved like he’d been waiting for permission his whole life.

still he took his time peeling off his sweats and boxers, eyes never leaving your body. when he finally climbed onto the bed, he moved slowly—deliberately. his hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider, thumbs brushing teasingly close to where you were aching.

he didn’t push in right away.

instead, he dragged the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, eyes flicking up past euijoo to how watch your face contorted even as your mouth was full. you moaned around euijoo’s cock and nicholas’s jaw tightened.

“fuck…” he breathed.

only then did he start to push in—slow, inch by inch, like he wanted to feel every second of it. your back arched. euijoo’s hand tightened in your hair as he kept fucking your mouth in those same lazy, controlled thrusts.

nicholas bottomed out and stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, forehead dropping forward like he was trying to keep himself together.

“been thinking about this,” he admitted quietly, voice rough. “every time i walked in… every time i had to leave.”

he started moving — slow, deep strokes that made your toes curl. euijoo matched his pace above you, fucking your mouth with the same unhurried rhythm. the three of you moved together like you had all the time in the world.

nicholas’s hands roamed your body — squeezing your waist, sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. every touch felt intentional. reverent.

euijoo’s voice was low and filthy above you.

“look at you… taking both of us so well. such a good girl.”

nicholas’s pace stayed steady, almost teasing. he rolled his hips in deep, grinding circles that made you see stars. you could feel how hard he was holding back.

euijoo’s hand stroked your cheek as he fucked your mouth a little deeper.

“you close, nicho?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

nicholas let out a shaky breath, hips stuttering. “yeah—”

euijoo’s tone dropped, sharp and possessive.

“don’t you dare cum in my girlfriend.”

nicholas froze for half a second, a low, frustrated grunt leaving his throat. he rolled his eyes, but he listened. he pulled out at the last second with a sharp hiss, fisting his cock as he came across your stomach in thick, hot ropes. his head dropped forward, breathing ragged.

euijoo didn’t stop moving in your mouth. he kept the same slow, deep rhythm until he pulled out, stroking himself until he came across your tongue and lips with a quiet groan.

for a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing.

nicholas was the first to move. he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your stomach, right above the mess he’d made, before collapsing beside you. then he collapsed beside you with a quiet groan, one arm draping over your waist like it belonged there. euijoo settled on your other side, gently pulling you into his chest and brushing your hair away from your face.

the three of you lay there tangled together, skin warm and sticky, breaths slowly evening out.

nicholas was the one who broke the silence first.

his voice was rough but fond, a little teasing.

“you two are sickeningly cute, you know that?”

euijoo let out a quiet huff of laughter against your hair, but he didn’t argue. his fingers kept tracing lazy patterns on your arm.

nicholas tilted his head to look at both of you, a small, tired smile playing on his lips.

“so…” he continued, voice softer now, almost shy. “when can we do this again?”

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱!

authors note: my writers block disappeared for a bit when i read @kvegawari ‘s going limp during sex hyung line hcs.. the idea of nicho constantly being a cock block for jju is hilarious so i decided to make it into a fic ~~ i hope u guys like it !!!

𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 open . . . . .  : @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starl0stt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo @ampiesworld @rubyidk @maytaurus20 @whoisgwyn  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @zzniya @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @crushonfuma @enha-crumbs @zucchini-thepowerfull @pendragonfaye @guliexe @natthefreak @sailorinthesie @rikusqirl @mitsuyas-version @freetobeey  @xukeiko @fumaid @livelaughloveseventeen @berrysoft7 @gummiiiee @radxdga @hhoneylix @crdteezv @pageraf

𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

[chrryspell]

wang yixiang ✶ unprotected sex creampie a hint of breeding kink cervix fucking headlock reader is in a subspace dumbification begging dirty talk minor daddy kink pronebone

› notes . no but this one... had me thinking and drooling and screaming like bro i need this ok not even funny anymore.

nicholas gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you flat against the mattress in a deep pronebone.

your chest was smushed against the sheets, your ass hiked high in the air, offering him a perfect, unobstructed view of your soaking wet heat. he didn’t wast a second, driving his thick cock forward in one heavy, relentless thrust that buried him to the hilt.

the impact knocked the breath out of you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as he bottomed out, hitting your cervix with a blunt, satisfying thud. he didn’t pull back far, keeping the friction constant, sliding out just enough to tease the entrance before slamming back in, over and over.

“that’s it, baby,” nicholas whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble right against your ear. “just take it all. you’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? just a mindless fucking hole.”

the intensity of the penetration was overwhelming. every deep, rhythmic plunge sent sparks through your brain, scrubbing away every coherent thought. you felt your mind slipping, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his cock stretching you open and the heat of his body pressing against your back.

you weren’t thinking about anything anymore—no worries, no words, just the raw, primal need for more.

your jaw slackened, and a thin string of drool escaped the corner of your mouth, wetting the pillowcase as your eyes glazed over in a state of pure, erotic stupor.

“look at you, angel,” he groaned, his breath hot on your neck. “totally gone. just a dumb, dripping mess for me. you don’t need to think, sweetheart. just feel how deep i am.”

desperate for more contact, you reached back, grabbing his muscular arm and pulling it forward, guiding it around your neck to lock you in a tight headlock. the pressure against your throat only heightened the arousal, making your head swim.

the moment your arm locked his in place, nicholas reacted with a surge of aggression. he gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, and began to fuck you with a renewed intensity.

he hammered into you, each thrust faster and harder than the last, the sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass echoing through the room.

you were completely undone, your face pressed against his bulging bicep. as he drove deep, your head lolled, and you began to drool directly onto his skin, the moisture slicking his arm. you couldn’t form full sentences, your brain turned to mush by the sheer pleasure of the friction.

“nicho… oh god—weno…” you moaned, your voice broken and breathless. you leaned into the headlock, whispering frantically against his skin, “it’s so good… so deep… please, please, just keep fucking me…”

he let out a guttural growl, his pace becoming frantic. he was drilling into you now, hitting that sweet spot with every single plunge, driving you further and further into a mindless haze of pleasure.

you were nothing but a shaking, drooling mess beneath him, completely conquered by the depth of his cock and the weight of his praise.

nicholas’ breathing had turned into a ragged, animalistic snarls, his entire body trembling with the effort of the friction. he felt your walls clamping down on him, milking him with every desperate twitch of your muscles.

he let out a loud, guttural roar, his hips locking forward one last time, burying his cock as deep as it could possibly go, pinning you flat against the bed.

the sensation was explosive. you felt the hot, thick jets of his cum erupting deep inside you, pulsing against your cervix in heavy waves. the sheer volume of his load filled you up, the warmth spreading through your womb, making you cry out in a high, broken wail.

you were shaking, your brain completely fried, your eyes rolled back as the orgasm ripped through you, leaving you twitching and mindless.

but as the initial peak subsided, the hunger didn’t leave. you were still in that drooling, vacant state, your mind replaced by a primal, aching void that only he could fill. even as he started to soften slightly, you gripped his arm tighter, pulling his bicep back against your cheek, your voice a needy, incoherent whimper.

“more… please, weno… don’t stop… fuck me more,” you sobbed, your hips grinding back against him, begging for the friction to return.

nicholas groaned, the sound vibrating through your spine. he was still half-hard, his cock swimming in the slick mixture of your juices and his own seed. he didn’t pull out, gripping your hips again, his fingers bruising your skin, and began to slide back into motion.

the sound was wet and squelching, the excess cum acting as a lubricant as he started to drive into you again, slower at first, then building back up to a punishing pace.

“you’re such a greedy angel, aren’t you,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “i just filled you to the brim, and you still want more? you just want to be my little breeding sow, don’t you?”

the word breeding snapped something inside you. you let out a whimpering moan, your head lolling as you drooled onto his arm again, your voice a desperate, breathless whisper.

“yes.. please… i want your babies… fill me up, weno… please make me pregnant… wanna carry your babies…”

the request drove him wild.

the thought of claiming you permanently, of planting his seed deep inside your womb until you were swollen with his child, sent a fresh surge of hardness back into his cock. he shifted his grip, grabbing your hair to pull your head back, exposing your throat while he hammered into you with a possessive rhythm.

“you want my babies now, angel?” he growled, his thrusts becoming frantic and deep again, slapping your ass with a loud, rhythmic crack. “gonna pump so much cum into you that you’ll be leaking for days. gonna make sure you’re knocked up, angel. you’re going to carry my brat, and you’re gonna love every second of being my bred-out toy.”

you were completely gone, a shaking, sobbing mess of pleasure. every time he bottomed out, you felt remaining cum being pushed deeper into you, the thought of impregnation making your pussy clench around him in tight, rhythmic spasms.

you begged him, your words slurred and broken, “fill me… please, nicho… give me your babies…”

he didn’t stop, drilling into you with a relentless intensity, determined to leave you completely saturated and claimed, fucking you into a state of total, blissful oblivion.

“don’t worry, angel… daddy’s gonna make sure he put his babies into you…” he growled into your neck, planting a quick peck against the soft skin.

[smidare]

【 18+ 】 tw ──── mean dom!k . . slight dubcon, hair pulling, oral (m. rec), name calling, dacryphilia, overstimulation, spitting, face slapping, mandhandling, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, reader was being bitchy & nasty earlier.  3732 wk ✶ don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

you’d been trying for hours.

it started with a quiet “i’m sorry” from the kitchen as he walked past you toward the shower. then a softer one when he emerged in gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, scrolling on his phone like you no longer existed. you brought him water. you sat beside him on the couch and rested your hand on his thigh. every attempt was met with cold silence or a flat, emotionless “don’t.”

by midnight the guilt had festered into something heavy and sick in your chest. you hated the way you’d snapped at him earlier—sharp, nasty words spilling out because your own day had been hell. he hadn’t yelled. he’d just shut down completely. and now he was punishing you with that silence.

you couldn’t stand it anymore.

so you ended up on the floor.

one moment you were hovering anxiously near the couch, the next your knees hit the carpet between his spread thighs. the living room was dim, lit only by the floor lamp and the cold blue glow of his phone. your oversized t-shirt had ridden up high on your hips, exposing the bare skin of your thighs and the thin strip of your panties.

“k…” your voice came out small and trembling. you looked up at him through wet lashes. “can we please talk? i know i was a total bitch earlier. i was overwhelmed and i took it out on you. that wasn’t fair. i’m really, really sorry.”

his thumb kept scrolling. he didn’t even glance down.

you swallowed hard and tried again, voice cracking. “i hate when you go quiet like this. it makes me feel like i broke us. please… just look at me. yell at me. anything.”

nothing.

desperation clawed at you. your hands slid up his thighs, thumbs brushing the crease of his hips. you pressed your forehead to his inner thigh, breathing in the warm, clean scent of his skin through the fabric.

“i’ll do anything to make it up to you,” you whispered, lips brushing the cotton. “just tell me what you need. i’ll stay right here. i’ll be quiet. i’ll use my mouth if that’s what you want. please, k.”

still no response.

shame and need twisted hot in your belly. you nuzzled higher, cheek dragging along the growing bulge in his sweatpants. he was already half-hard. the realization made you bold. you mouthed at him through the fabric—slow, wet kisses along his thickening length.

“i’m sorry,” you breathed between kisses. “i was nasty. i said awful things i didn’t mean.” another open-mouthed kiss, leaving a damp spot on the gray cotton. “let me fix it. let me be good for you.”

your fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging it down just enough to free his cock.

his hand moved like lightning.

fingers fisted tight in your hair at the roots and yanked your head back hard. the sharp sting made your eyes water instantly. he held you there, suspended, while his other hand finally set the phone aside.

when his gaze finally dropped to you, it was ice-cold.

“you think sucking my cock is going to fix the way you spoke to me?” his voice was low, flat, dangerous. “after you told me to fuck off and that i didn’t understand shit about you?”

you tried to shake your head, but the grip on your hair kept you still. “no—i didn’t mean it, i was just—”

“save it.” he cut you off sharply. without warning, his other hand cracked across your face in a stinging slap. the impact made your cheek burn and your head spin. before you could recover, he slapped the other cheek, lighter but just as humiliating.

he leaned in, gripping your jaw hard. “you don’t get to decide how you apologize anymore.”

in one fluid motion he hauled you up and threw you face-down over his lap. your stomach pressed against his strong thighs, t-shirt bunched around your waist, ass up and completely exposed. one large hand pinned you between the shoulder blades, smashing your face into the couch cushion. the other rested heavy on the back of your thigh.

“stay still.”

you heard the soft click of his phone unlocking again. he started scrolling with one hand while keeping you trapped like a disobedient pet.

the first slap landed without warning—his palm cracking hard against your pussy through your soaked panties. the wet smack echoed. you jolted violently, a broken cry tearing from your throat.

he didn’t pause. another sharp slap. then another. slow. methodical. each one made your clit throb and fresh slick drip down your thighs.

“you tried to fix it your way,” he said calmly, eyes still on his screen. “now you take it mine.”

he hooked two fingers into your panties and ripped them down to your knees. cool air hit your bare, dripping cunt. the next slap landed directly on your swollen, exposed folds—loud, stinging, filthy. you cried out, hips twitching.

“fuck—k, please—”

“quiet.” another sharp slap.“you were so nasty earlier,” he said conversationally, eyes still on his screen. “running that mouth like you forgot who you belong to.” another sharp slap made you cry out. “now look at you. thrown over my lap with your cunt dripping all over my sweats. pathetic.”

he kept spanking your pussy with measured, cruel slaps, occasionally pausing to drag his fingers through your mess and spread it obscenely. by the time he set the phone down, you were already shaking.

he fisted your hair and yanked your head back, arching your spine painfully. with his free hand he shoved two fingers past your lips.

“open. suck.”

you obeyed instantly, sucking messily, tears slipping down your cheeks as you tasted yourself. when they were dripping with spit, he pulled them out and slammed them into your cunt in one brutal thrust.

the angle was devastating. he curled them hard, fucking you fast and rough while his thumb ground against your oversensitive clit. your legs kicked uselessly. you couldn’t close them. couldn’t escape.

“you wanted to make it up to me?” his voice was low, almost conversational as he ruined you with his fingers. “this is how. you take what i give you.”

you were already close—too close—from the spanking and the humiliation. your walls fluttered around his fingers. he felt it.

he pulled his fingers out.

a second later his palm cracked against your cunt again—harder than before.

“you get to cum on my terms, though.”

that sentence made you whimper, you sobbed into the couch cushion, thighs shaking, cunt clenching around nothing. k just held you there, one hand still fisted in your hair, the other resting possessively on your ass like he had all night to break you down and rebuild you however he wanted. you were a wreck—crying, drooling, babbling broken apologies into the now damp couch fabric. 

his voice dropped, quiet and final.

“we’re not done. not even close.”

k kept you pinned over his lap, your stomach pressed across his strong thighs, ass up and exposed. your upper body was draped forward, cheek resting against the couch cushion, legs dangling uselessly on one side. it was a vulnerable, helpless position—exactly how he wanted you.

he didn’t rush the punishment.

two fingers pushed back into your soaked cunt, fucking you in slow, deep strokes while his other hand rested heavily on your lower back. every time your breathing started to hitch and your walls fluttered around him, he would slow down or pull out completely to deliver several sharp, wet slaps to your swollen pussy. the denial was deliberate and cruel.

by the third edge you were already crying softly into the cushion, thighs shaking.

“please…” you whispered, voice hoarse. “k, m’ sorry—i can’t take much more—”

he ignored the plea. instead, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up to your mouth.

“open.”

you turned your head obediently and sucked them in, cleaning your own slick off his skin while fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. he let you suck for a long moment, then pushed them deeper until you gagged softly around them.

when he finally pulled them free, they were shiny with spit.

he shifted his hips slightly and used the hand that had been on your back to fist your hair. he didn’t lift you off his lap. he simply guided your upper body down, and your head to the side; turning you just enough so your face was level with his cock. it was already out—thick, flushed, and leaking from how long he’d been toying with you.

because of the way you were now draped, his cock was barley inches away. he didn’t need to move you much. 

he fed the head past your lips, then pushed your head down until you took as much of him as the awkward angle would allow. 

“go on. since you were so eager to have my cock in your mouth.”

“suck it, slut.”

before you could even properly adjust to take his length into your mouth—he shoved your mouth down onto his cock whilst he simultaneously drove  his fingers into you with renewed purpose—hard, fast, ruthless. 

your nose pressed against his abs while as he thrusted up—your upper half staying trapped over his lap.

 every thrust of his fingers made your body jerk forward, forcing you to take him deeper. drool ran down his length and soaked into the fabric of his sweatpants. you couldn’t move much—his hand in your hair controlled the pace, and the hand between your legs kept you exactly where he wanted you.

he edged you again like that.

every time you got close, he would either slow his fingers to a torturous grind or pull them out to slap your pussy until you were sobbing around his cock. the vibrations from your cries only made him throb in your mouth. he used your hair to fuck your face in shallow thrusts while he ruined your cunt with his fingers.

you were completely falling apart.

tears streaked your face. your thighs wouldn’t stop trembling. your apologies had turned into broken, wet babbling around his cock — “m’ sorry, m’ sorry, i’ll be good, please let me cum, i can’t—”—muffled and desperate.

k finally pulled your head up by your hair, letting you gasp for air. his cock slipped from your mouth, shiny with spit. he looked down at you—at your wrecked face, swollen lips, and glassy eyes—and something in his expression shifted.

“cute. i think you’ve cried enough.” a dark smirk. “you can cum now.”

he pushed your head back down onto his cock, forcing you to take him again. at the same time, his fingers returned to your cunt—this time with purpose. he fucked you hard and fast, pulling out occasionally to slap at your swollen bud, giving you no room to escape the sensation.

this time he didn’t stop.

the orgasm ripped through you so violently your whole body seized. you screamed around his thick length, walls clamping down as waves of overwhelming pleasure crashed over you, your juices squirting out onto his wrist—thighs trembling and attempting to close around his fingers as he didn’t stop the aggressive pace of his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

he kept fucking you through it, then past it, forcing you into overstimulation until your legs kicked helplessly and your sobs turned raw. 

only when you were completely limp and shaking did he finally slow his fingers.

he pulled them out, yanking your head off his cock and letting you  rest your tear-streaked cheek against his thigh. his hand smoothed down your back in one long, possessive stroke while you trembled. 

trembled and sniffled. your cunt was still twitching from the forced orgasm, puffy and oversensitive. he could see how wet you still were, how your thighs kept twitching every time the air hit you.

he gave your ass one last squeeze, then spoke.

“up.”

his voice was low but firm. before you could even try to move on your own, he grabbed you by the hair and hauled you up off his lap. your legs were shaky, barely holding you. he didn’t give you time to steady yourself. he manhandled you forward, bending you over so your upper body was pressed into the cushions and your ass was up, dripping cunt perfectly presented for him.

you heard the rustle of fabric as he pushed his sweatpants down the rest of the way. a second later you felt the thick head of his cock drag through your soaked folds—once, twice—teasing your oversensitive clit on purpose.

you whimpered. “k—i’m still so sensitive—”

“i know.” he slapped your face lightly from the side, then gripped your hip. “that’s the fucking point.”

he didn’t ease in.

with one brutal thrust and he buried himself to the hilt inside you. the stretch was intense after everything he’d already done to you. your walls fluttered and clenched around him involuntarily, still too sensitive from the orgasm he’d forced out of you. a broken, choked sound left your throat. he groaned, gripping your hair tight as he set a punishing rhythm.

“take it,” he growled between deep, savage thrusts. “this is how you make it up to me, how you apologize properly—letting use this tight fucking cunt the way i want.”

he didn’t give you time to adjust. he pulled back and thrust in again—deep, rough, setting a punishing rhythm right from the start. every stroke dragged against your oversensitive walls and made you jolt. your hands couldn’t help but clutch at the fabric of the couch as he fucked you dumb.

“you wanted to make it up to me so badly earlier,” he said between thrusts, voice low and mean. “this is how you do it. you take my cock like a good little slut and you don’t complain about how sensitive you are, got it?”

he punctuated the words with a particularly hard thrust that made you cry out. his hand left your hip and reached underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles while he kept fucking you.

the overstimulation hit fast.

tears sprang to your eyes again as the pleasure started building too quickly, too intensely. your legs shook. every time his cock dragged against that spot inside you and his fingers worked your clit, it felt like too much.

“k—too much, please, i can’t—”

he yanked your head back by the hair and slapped your cheek again, harder this time. then he spat directly into your open, gasping mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered roughly. you did, whimpering. “yes you can. you’re going to cum on my cock again like a good little slut and you’re going to thank me for it.”

he kept the pace brutal—hips snapping against your ass, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. every few thrusts he would slap your pussy lightly from underneath, making you clench around him. the combination of his cock pounding into you and the sharp little slaps had you sobbing into the cushion within minutes.

you came again with a broken cry, walls pulsing hard around his cock. k didn’t stop. he fucked you straight through it, fingers still rubbing your clit, dragging out every aftershock until you were shaking so hard your knees nearly gave out.

when your third orgasm finally tore through you, vision whitening. 

but k didn’t slow. he kept your hips locked in his grip, cock buried to the hilt inside your spasming cunt as your third orgasm ripped through you. your walls clenched and fluttered wildly around his thick length, milking him, but he just fucked you harder through it—deep, punishing strokes that dragged against every oversensitive inch of you.

“fuck—k, too much, i can’t—” you sobbed, voice wrecked and broken, trying to twist away even as your body betrayed you, pushing back into him like it still craved more.

he laughed low and cruel, the sound vibrating through his chest as he yanked your hair harder, arching your back further. his hips snapped forward with brutal force, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet room. 

“you can’t? bullshit. this pussy is still sucking me in like it knows exactly who it belongs to.”

he drove into you relentlessly, one hand sliding down to slap your swollen clit again and again—sharp, stinging little smacks timed with every thrust. your legs shook violently, knees buckling, but he held you up by the hair and hip, using you like a toy.

“no—no no no—stop, i’m gonna—” you cried out, panic and pleasure twisting together as another brutal wave built impossibly fast, your overstimulated cunt clenching painfully tight around him.

“shut the fuck up and take it,” he growled, voice dark and merciless. he slammed into you so deep you swore you felt him in your stomach, grinding against that spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. “you can give me another. make it up to me properly, slut. this is what you owe me after running that nasty little mouth earlier.”

you wailed, shaking your head frantically even as your body gave in. “no—please—fuck, i—”

the fourth orgasm crashed over you like a violent storm. your whole body seized, thighs clamping uselessly as your cunt gushed around him. you squirted hard—hot, messy jets soaking his cock, his thighs, and the couch beneath you—your screams muffled into the cushion as the overstimulation turned everything white-hot and unbearable.

k groaned loudly, the sound raw and satisfied. “that’s it—fuck yes, squirt for me. good fucking girl.” he didn’t stop thrusting, fucking you through the violent spasms, drawing out every last drop until you were a twitching, sobbing wreck.

only then did his pace falter. his grip on your hair tightened to the point of pain as he buried himself as deep as possible, hips stuttering. “take it all. every fucking drop,” he snarled, voice thick with release.

with a low, guttural moan, he came hard—thick ropes of cum flooding your ruined cunt, filling you until it leaked out around his cock with every shallow thrust. he stayed buried inside you for a long moment, grinding lazily as he emptied himself completely, marking you from the inside.

finally, he pulled out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum dripped from your puffy, abused pussy down your trembling thighs. he gave your ass one last possessive slap, then hauled your limp body up against his chest, arms wrapping around you in a deceptively gentle hold while you shook and sniffled.

his lips brushed your ear, voice low and final. “think you’ve learned your lesson?”

you only sobbed and gasped and shook in response.

k stayed buried deep for a long moment, grinding lazily as the last pulses of his release filled you. when he finally pulled out, a thick flood of his cum immediately dripped from your ruined, puffy cunt, sliding messily down your trembling thighs and onto the couch.

he admired the sight for a second, dark satisfaction etched across his face, before his voice came low and commanding.

“on your knees.”

your legs were shaking so badly you could barely move, but you obeyed. you slid off the couch and sank to the floor between his spread thighs, knees pressing into the carpet. he sat back comfortably, legs wide, his cock still half-hard and glistening with your combined mess.

he tapped two fingers against your bottom lip. you opened immediately. leaning over you, he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drop onto your tongue, watching with hooded eyes as you swallowed it without hesitation.

then he took his messy cock in hand and slapped the heavy length against your flushed cheek once, twice, before dragging the slick head across your pink, swollen lips.

“clean me up.”

you leaned in obediently, taking his spent cock between your lips. you licked and sucked him thoroughly—tongue swirling around the head, tracing every vein, cleaning every trace of your squirt and his cum off his skin. 

fresh tears slipped silently down your cheeks as you worked, but you didn’t stop until he was spotless. his hand rested on top of your head the entire time, heavy but not forcing—just holding you in place while he watched with dark, satisfied eyes.

when he was finally content, he fisted your hair and gently pulled you up. he guided you onto his lap, making you straddle one of his thick thighs. your face tucked into the crook of his neck, arms weakly wrapping around him as his strong arms locked around your back, holding you close.

for a long while, he simply held you like that. one large hand stroked slowly up and down your spine in soothing passes while the other cradled the back of your head. your body was still trembling against him, cunt twitching with aftershocks, soft sniffles muffled into his skin. the room was quiet except for your uneven breathing and the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

eventually his voice rumbled low against your hair, quiet but warm.

“you did good tonight.”

he kept tracing lazy circles on your back, pressing occasional soft kisses to the top of your head and temple. the sharp, mean edge he’d worn all night was gone, replaced by something steady and protective.

after a few more minutes, he shifted slightly, reaching for the water you’d brought him earlier. he held the glass to your lips, murmuring, “small sips, baby.” you drank obediently, the cool water soothing your raw throat.

he set the glass aside and pulled the oversized t-shirt back down over your hips, then wrapped you tighter in his arms. one hand slipped under the shirt to rub gentle, soothing strokes over your sore ass and lower back, careful not to press too hard on the sensitive skin.

“my good girl,” he whispered against your hair, voice soft now. “i’ve got you. just breathe. let it all settle. you won’t do that again. hm?”

he rocked you gently in his lap, holding you through the last of the tremors until your breathing evened out and your body melted completely into his. every touch was tender now—fingers combing through your hair, lips brushing your forehead, quiet praises murmured against your skin.

“you’re safe. we’re okay.”

“but next time you feel like being a bitch… remember this.”

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.  𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾  𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌  𝖺𝗋𝖾  𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅  𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽.  𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽  𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗈𝗋  𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇  𝗂𝗌  𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱!

𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾—𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈. 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌. 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ♡ 

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: happy 1.8k ~ i finally finished this after working on it for like 3 days.. very much enjoyed writing mean dom k n will be doing it again hehe i hope u guys enjoy this !

[hkvi]

internet boy!

camboy!taesan x viewer!femreader w: smut, masturbation (m, f), switch!taesan, subish!reader, overstimulation, dick slapping, nipple play (m), pet names (princess, angel, baby), taesan calls himself a slut, reader wastes her money on taesan, mention of mcr, dirty talk, multiple orgasms | wc: 984 | might have typos | eng isn't my first language | mdni author's note: wrote this in february 😭😭

"ah– fuck–! just like that..!"

you stare gawk at the screen, face blushing at the image of the man jerking off in your laptop.

he gets a donation, making him lean in to the screen, his hoodie sliding down. "t-thanks for the– ah, fuck– the f-five dollars, elytramia.." he thanked the donator with a whimper, hand squeezing his tip, dribbling down some of his precum over his hand.

he relaxes on the gaming chair once again, throwing his head back as he lifted his hoodie up until his chest, revealing his faint abs and firm chest.

you knit your brows together, feeling like a pervert for watching him even though it was literally his job.

"shit..feels s' good, princess.." he moans, half lidded eyes looking straight at the camera. your face blush once again, feeling heat pool down on your abdomen.

his moans and whimpers are so loud you can barely listen to the my chemical romance song playing on the background.

he teases his tip with his thumb as he does the same with his nipple on the other hand. he rolls his eyes back, overstimulated as he was on his third round by now. his cum from the previous rounds slipping from his thighs down to his seat, making you clench your thighs together at the sinful sight.

you reached for your laptop hesitantly, typing on the keyboard quickly "pls take the hoodie off plsss" with a 15 dollar donation.

he chuckles as he reads the donation popping on the screen. "so desperate~" he purrs before taking off the garment, throwing it on the bed behind him.

he is completely naked now that the fabric was gone. he settles back into the chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as one of his legs rests on the arm chair.

he grabs his cock with both hands this time, twisting his wrists up and down as his mouth opens in a O shape, small whines and whimpers slipping out of it.

"fuck, angel, I'm s' close– gon' make a mess fo' you, princess." he groans out, voice cracking a little at the end.

he bites his lower lip as he tries his best not to get louder, the chat immediately filling up with comments telling him to be as loud as possible.

he smirks, lip still between his teeth, slowing down the pace on his cock, edging himself. "mm...I dunno...if only someone would donate right now..." he hums low.

you quickly type on your laptop as soon as he stops touching himself, turning around on his chair to grab his hoodie. "pls don't stop, pls make a mess" you donate 150 dollars, the highest he ever received.

his eyes widens at the number, making sure to quickly read your username. he quickly sets the hoodie aside, hand quickly coming to wrap around his throbbing dick.

"fuck, y/n, you must like me a l-lot." he moans out, a smirk tugging on his trembling lips.

you bite your lower lip as he moans your name, quickly hugging your legs to ease some relief.

he gives an experimental slap on his sensitive tip, making him buck up his hips, thrusting into his fist. "ohmygod–!"

"fuck– 'm cumming, I'm cumming–!" he whines out, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as he shoots white stripes of semen onto his chest, some dribbling down to his thighs.

his pupils are blown as he tries to recover his breath, a soft pink crawling his cheeks. he giggles softly as he sees the amount of cum resting all over his torso.

he collects the whiteish goo with three fingers, taking them to show the camera, spreading his fingers a little. he smears it on his red tip, a small squeak escaping his lips at the sudden stimulation.

he glides his cum along the side of his veiny shaft, thighs trembling. "fuuuuck.." he groans as his hand goes back to pump his abused cock.

his pace quickens up as some donations popped on the screen, encouraging him to keep going, some even calling him a slut and he obviously moaned in response.

"s-shit– yes, fuck, 'm a slut...your slut, f-fuck–!" he whimpers with absolutely no one in his mind, only his precious viewers <3

your heart hammers as you stare at the screen, a hand going under your pjs shorts, cupping your cunt and feeling the wet patch on your panties.

you pull your panties aside, slowly introducing a finger inside your pussy. fuck, you wished it was him instead.

you match his quick pace, your palm hitting your throbbing clit with each thrust, causing small whines to fall of your lips.

"fuck, baby, are you touching y-yourself?" he groans immediately as if he was watching you through your laptop's lens.

you whine in response. "fuck that pretty pussy for me, can you?" he moans, he free hand going back to tease his tip, the nail of his index finger poking his tiny slit, making him hiss.

"fuck– I wish you were here...fuck that little pussy open with m-my cock. you'd love that, huh?" he groans, a high-pitched moan coming from his lips after.

"jesus, baby, 'm close..." he moans, feeling the knot on his lower abdomen starts to unknit once again.

you feel your climax starts to build up embarrassingly fast too, the stimulation from your finger and palm being too much.

he squeezes his eyes shut as his mouth falls open, cock shooting more cum on his abs and hand.

you cum at the sight, a small whimper escaping your mouth. "fuck...taesan–!"

he lets out a small chuckle as he cleans himself with the tissues on his desk. letting out a small hiss as he clean his sensitive shaft.

you lean in again, wiping your finger on your sheets. slowly typing on your keyboard as you recovered yourself.

"another one?" + $200.

[smidare]

❤︎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀jo looks the prettiest when he's hitting it from the back

•⠀‎‎  masterlist ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎𓋰‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎💬 ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 ─── ᛫ soft dom!jo x fem!r ✶ doggy style, unprotected p in v, pretty jojo . 896 wc don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

you know jo’s pretty. he’s always been pretty.

his face is perfect while he does everything and anything—smiling at you across the practice room while covered in sweat, hair damp and clinging to his temples after hours of choreography; concentrating on the pronunciation of english lyrics with that focused little furrow between his brows, lips moving silently around the unfamiliar sounds; laughing at some dumb joke fuma made, head thrown back and eyes crinkling into perfect half-moons that make your chest ache with how soft he looks.

but tonight you think you’ve found him the prettiest he’s ever been, and it’s while he’s fucking you from behind.

the bedroom is dim, only the low amber glow of the bedside lamp painting everything in pale gold. you’re on all fours in the middle of the bed, knees sinking deep into the soft mattress, back arched deep the way he likes it—spine curved like an offering, ass tilted up for him. the sheets are already twisted beneath your palms, cool against your heated skin.

jo’s behind you, one hand gripping your hip so hard you know they’ll be fingerprints left tomorrow, the other is braced on the small of your back like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

he’s been inside you for what feels like forever and not nearly long enough. every slow, deliberate thrust drags the thick head of his cock right against that spot that makes your arms shake and your mouth fall open on a broken moan. the wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, filthy and perfect.

you turn your head just enough to look back at him over your shoulder, and—fuck.

jo’s face is flushed, scrunched up, lips parted just slightly with that pretty pink bottom lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying not to fall apart.

his dark hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, strands falling into his eyes. those eyes—half-lidded, glassy, completely focused on where he’s disappearing inside you again and again.

his cheeks are pink, lashes fluttering every time you clench around him, and there’s this soft, wrecked little expression on his face that you’ve never seen before. like he’s the one getting ruined.

“angel…” his voice is low, hoarse, brows furrowed as he focuses on how you clench perfectly around him. “you feel so good. so tight—ah—mmph—”

he angles his hips and drives in deeper, and your elbows buckle. you drop to your forearms, face pressed into the soft pillow, ass still up for him. jo groans at the new angle, the sound raw and beautiful, and you force yourself to look back again because you cannot miss this.

god, he’s glowing.

the lamplight catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the delicate curve of his throat when he throws his head back for a second, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. every time he bottoms out his brows furrow just a little, like it’s almost too much, and his mouth falls open on a silent gasp.

he looks so pretty it hurts—ethereal and filthy at the same time, like some kind of fallen angel who decided the only place he wanted to be was buried inside you.

jo catches you staring. his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, and the corner of his mouth twitches into this dazed, crooked smile that makes your stomach flip.

“are—you watching me—?” he says between heavy panting breathes, voice trembling. he slows his thrusts deliberately, grinding deep instead of pulling out, rolling his hips in filthy little circles that make you whimper. “like seeing how wrecked i get for you?”

you nod frantically, unable to form words. he leans forward, sweaty chest pressing against your bare back, one arm wraps around your waist to hold you right where he wants you, fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. his lips brush your ear, breath hot.

“mm...keep looking,” he whispers, and snaps his hips forward hard enough to punch the air out of your lungs. "want you to see exactly what you do to me.”

he fucks you like that—deep, relentless, face right next to yours so you can’t look away even if you wanted to. his damp hair brushes your shoulder with every thrust, and you watch every flicker of pleasure cross his perfect features up close: the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow, the way his mouth goes rests open and his head tips forward so his forehead rests against your skin. 

his breathing is ragged, little gasps and moans escaping with every snap of his hips. you can feel the tremble in his thighs where they press against the backs of yours, the way his fingers dig harder into your hip like he’s anchoring himself.

you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. 

not the way he looks on stage under bright lights, not the soft morning version of him with sleepy eyes and bedhead, not even the quiet concentrated version of him drawing. this—sweaty, desperate, completely lost in how good you feel around him—is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

jo’s rhythm starts to falter, hips stuttering, breath coming in short, desperate pants against your neck. “mmph—close—ah, i’m so close—” his voice cracks on your name, raw and wrecked, and the sound of it makes you dizzy with want. he’s grinding now more than thrusting, chasing that edge, buried so deep it feels like he’s part of you.

you reach back blindly, fingers threading through his short hair, tugging just enough to make him moan. “cum for me,” you gasp. “wanna see your face when you fill me up—”

he makes this broken, gorgeous sound at your words—half-moan, half-sob—and buries himself to the hilt, in one final, deep thrust. 

he grinds against you as he comes hard, thick pulses of his seed flooding you, face pressed between your shoulder blades like he needs the contact to stay grounded. you feel every pulse, every twitch, every warm spurt as he empties himself inside you, hips jerking with aftershocks.

you catch his reflection in the mirror across the room—eyes shut tight, brows furrowed deep, mouth open in a silent cry, cheeks and ears flushed dark and short black hair sticking up in every direction. he looks completely undone, ruined in the most stunning way possible.

he’s never looked more beautiful.

jo stays there for a long moment, breathing hard against your skin, arms trembling as he holds you close. then he presses the softest kiss to the back of your neck, voice hoarse and sweet.

“love you,” he murmurs, still buried deep, still shaking a little. “love you so much.”

you smile into the pillow, heart so full it feels like it might burst, body buzzing with warmth and satisfaction and that deep, bone-melting affection only he can pull out of you.

then you turn your head just enough to catch his eyes again—still glassy, still soft with love and satisfaction—and you know without a doubt that this is the version of jo you’ll never get tired of seeing. the one that’s yours alone.

yeah.

he’s always pretty.

but like this?

nothing in the world even comes close.

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱!

𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 open . . . . .  : @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starl0stt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo @ampiesworld @rubyidk @maytaurus20 @whoisgwyn  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @zzniya @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @crushonfuma @enha-crumbs @zucchini-thepowerfull @pendragonfaye @guliexe @natthefreak @sailorinthesie @rikusqirl @mitsuyas-version @freetobeey  @xukeiko @fumaid @livelaughloveseventeen @berrysoft7 @gummiiiee @radxdga @hhoneylix @crdteezv @pageraf @yandere-stories @jpow345 @itzhbu @reisdoll @horangiungnico @patrickbatemansgf @yethoughts @sunsoomi @lovelynyah @ateez-atiny380 @crdteezv @moonchild-31 @yvalrik @makizdoll

𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

[myunghoon]

Can you do a taesan boyfriend headcannons and maybe make it suggestive?

taesan bf hcs

bonedo taesan x reader

fluff, smut, degradation, choking, marking

a/n: FINALLLYYYY a bonedo ask thank the lord i need him to be my bf NOWWW anyways i GOT YOU anon enjoy this my dear!!

sfw:

soo shy at first, scared to hold your hand, scared to kiss you, scared to touch you. he was a delicate lover.

he would get you flowers or make you songs to listen to, reminding you in small ways how much he loves you. the songs would only be for your ears, and he would never release them.

he isn’t the pda type, only sticking to holding your hand and rubbing it with his thumb 💔 he kisses your cheek occasionally too, smiling afterwards.

lovessss to cuddle you, holding you close for hours and even taking naps. he loves comfortable silence with you or just talking for hours about anything that comes to your mind.

like i mentioned, he loves making love songs for you. much more personal than anything boynextdoor has released. the lyrics are suited to fit you and he sings in them just for you, cause he knows you like his singing voice.

likes to spend nights with you so he can spend the most time possible with you during his busy schedule. makes sure to text you all the time when he isn’t with you so he gets his fix.

when he gets more comfortable he would be all over you. holding your waist all the time, leaning his head on your shoulder, kissing you all the time. he just gets scared to show his affection for you and it takes some time.

introduces you to the guys pretty early, making sure they approve of you (they do). you got together and played games and watched movies along with their music videos.

takes you on lots of dates around the town. he loves walking dates, spending time outside and taking lots of pictures of you for his wallpaper. he does it sneakily and hides them in a folder 💔

overall a very sweet and careful lover. he wants you to be comfortable and feel loved with him and you definitely do. he loves surprises and making you laugh with corny jokes!

nsfw:

tends to be more on the dominant side but is a switch at heart. all he really cares about it making you feel good tbh. his favorite positions are missionary and cowgirl, the classics. sometimes even doggy style if he is feeling extra rough.

his mouth is an absolute weapon and he will use it against you. starts by eating you out, making you cum on his tongue easily. his tongue would abuse your clit and he would clean you before fucking you. he calls you filthy names the whole time too ;)

he is really into degradation and rough sex. he sometimes sex as an outlet and it helps him relieve anything built up. on that note, he also likes choking, leaving your neck bruised the next day. he loooves marking you as his, letting others know who is fucking you right.

when he is feeling dominant, he loves having your legs over his shoulders. he feels in complete control over you and he can watch your every expression while he fucks you stupid. he loves to spit in your mouth too, calling you a slut while he does it :(

huuuuge into orgasm control too, telling you when to cum. he makes you beg for it sometimes urging you to, ‘use your words, you pathetic thing.’ even when you’re a whining mess.

when he is feeling more submissive, he is soooo good for you. he lays back and lets you do whatever you want to him. he cries and whines openly as you torture his sensitive cock, craving more of you.

degradation goes both ways, please call him a whore or a slut or anything. ‘such a pathetic puppy.’ that one always makes him whine. he loves when you dehumanize him for your pleasure and use him as your personal dildo.

is probably one of the kinkiest of the group, down to do anything with you. he would tie you up, let you pour wax on him, bite you, and definitely likes to have some sex toys laying around for you to use during the act.

wants to try those vibrating panties with you, torturing you as you go in public. he takes you on a nice date, making sure to fluctuate the pulse regularly. he knew you were making a mess, but he loved torturing you for his pleasure. he would make sure to fuck you nice after too, praising you for doing so good.

overall, a very kinky lover and focuses a lot more on your pleasure than his. he loves you so much and wants you to feel special no matter what. would let him hit any day of the week.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

masterlist

[smidare]

i need to know the fuma thoughts you have OLEASE

hmmmm … fuu’s long pretty fingers being too much for his virgin gf

fuma has you laid out on his bed, both dressed lazily. you in only his oversized eevee shirt—pink laced panties peaking from beneath the large fabric, and him dressed in just sweatpants and a hoodie with tiny pokéballs at the wrists.

your panties are pushed to the side and his hand tucked between your thighs. the room’s quiet except for your shaky breathing and the low hum of his pc fans in the corner. he’s propped up on one elbow, watching your face the whole time, focused and gentle.

“we’ll go really slow, okay?” he murmurs, voice low and calm, letting his middle finger tease at your entrance first, just the tip circling and pressing in the tiniest bit.

you’re already soaking, but the feeling still makes you tense. body rigid and braced.

“baby… you gotta relax,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. his voice is warm, patient. he doesn’t push any further, just lets the tip of his finger rest there while his thumb draws slow, gentle circles over your clit. “breathe for me. i’ve got you.”

you let out a small shaky exhale and try to unclench—taking ragged deep breaths as your body calms just for this moment. fuma feels it immediately—the way your thighs loosen just a little around his wrist. the way your cunt does not push the tip his finger away, instead it welcomes it by pulling at it. he smiles against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to it.

“there you go… good girl.”

“just the tip right now,” he says softly, easing the very end of his finger inside you. it’s barely anything, but you can already tell how thick and long it is.

he rocks it in and out in tiny movements, letting you get used to it, thumb brushing your clit in lazy circles to help you relax.

“feels okay?” he asks, eyes soft.

you nod, biting your lip, and he slowly starts sinking in more. inch by inch, his finger slides deeper, stretching you open so carefully it makes your breath hitch. halfway in and you’re already squirming—it feels so much bigger than your own fingers ever have.

“mmph—fuu—s’ alot,” you whisper, voice all breathy.

“i know, baby,” he murmurs, voice soothing but a little rougher now. he pauses halfway, letting you adjust, his long finger just sitting there buried inside you. “you’re doing so fucking good. look at you taking me like this.”

he kisses your cheek again, then your jaw, giving you a second before he keeps going. another inch. then another. until his knuckle is pressed right up against you and his whole finger is buried deep. the stretch is intense—you feel so full already and it’s just one finger.

your hand clutches tightly at the fabric of his hoodie, thighs trembling around his wrist. fuma groans softly, forehead dropping against yours.

“f-fuma…” you whimper, high and shaky, “it’s…hnn—too deep…”

“shit…baby—you’re squeezing me so tight. just breathe, yeah?” he waits for you to take a few deep breaths before he starts moving his fingers, slow drags, pulling out just a little before sinking back in all the way. every stroke makes your breath stutter and small whimpers escape from your mouth.

“ah—!” you whimper again, the sound breaking in your throat as he curls his finger gently—the tip hitting right at the gummy spot within you that makes your thighs tremnle and your vision blur. “s’too much…your fingers are so long—mmh!”

he chuckles softly at your reaction, giving you few more careful thrusts before he pulls back almost all the way, then adds his pointer finger. just the tips of both at first, pressing in together.

“think you can take a little more?” he asks gently, eyes locked on your face, watching for any sign it’s too much.

you whimper, nodding even though your heart’s racing and your mind is fuzzy.

he sinks them in together, inch by slow inch, stretching you wider and deeper until both long fingers are completely inside you. knuckles coated in your slick.

“thereee we go…” he breathes, curling them just slightly. “too much?”

you shake your head, but another broken whimper slips out anyway. “feels… full— hnnng… don’t stop…”

it’s overwhelming, but you don’t want him to stop. you need to be prepped properly, how else will you take that monster in his pants?

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱!

[crdteezv]

i need fuma real bad🙃

[v4mpnicho]

18+ before i get too mean

nicholas hums low, teeth ruthlessly grazing your clit as your hips jerk uncontrollably. probably because of the fact that you've come five times already. your back arches, hands clawing at his shoulders — whether a silent plea for mercy or a desire for more, you have no idea.

“nich… n-nicholas—i-i wasn’t—” you whimper, trying to explain, but his tongue drags over every sensitive spot before you can even get a word out.

“shhh… shut the fuck up, baby,” he murmurs, biting the skin of your inner thigh. “you weren't being slick today, you know. throwing yourself at euijoo like some desperate slut. jesus… you really think i’m gonna let that slide?”

your words dissolve into helpless gasps and soft cries, “n-nicho! i-i… oh, god! h-hah… 'm sorry…” every syllable muffled by his relentless tongue, curling, pressing, and overstimulating every nerve.

“my baby's so fucking needy. bet you're still thinking about him. hm? you picturing juju as i devour this cunt?” he hisses, tongue plunging deeper, fingers gripping your hips, holding you flush so you can’t escape the slightest bit. “look at you. you're such a fucking mess. all for me…”

you sob incoherently, babbling nonsense, “y-yes… just for you, weno. please, nnnhhh… so good…” your body shakes violently, overwhelmed by sensation, mind melting into pure, helpless need.

nicholas growls, smirk wicked, eyes dark and completely consumed, “that’s right, baby. nobody can worship this pussy with their mouth as well as i do. look at her gushing for me. she loves me, doesn't she?"

every lick, every swirl, every tug has you writhing and moaning, and he laughs possessively, cruelly pleased. “cum on my tongue, baby. give it to me… wanna taste you again.”

and as you succumb to the filthy pleasure that nicholas offers, your pathetic, broken whines carry through the room, loud enough to make euijoo pause outside the door, frozen, hand moving to his pants and unbuttoning them without a sound.

[smidare]

【 18+ 】 tw ──── perv!taki . . 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝗮𝘁, chikan, non con, dubcon, public molestation, forced orgasm, dry humping, fingering, groping, public humiliation, slight emotional manipulation, crying, clit stimulation, taki cums in his pants lol 2121 wc | don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

the crowded evening train rattled along the tracks, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as bodies pressed together in the rush-hour squeeze. you stood near the doors, one hand gripping the overhead rail, earbuds in, trying to block out the world after a long day. you didn’t notice him at first—the boy with the messy dark hair and kind eyes who’d been watching you for weeks now.

taki.

he’d seen you here before. same line, same time. you never looked his way, but that never stopped him from looking. 

the way your skirt swayed, the curve of your neck when you tilted your head, the soft scent of your perfume drifted toward him when the train jerked. he’d jerked off thinking about you more times than he could count, guilt twisting in his gut every single time. but today… today the ache was too much. he couldn’t just stay away anymore.

the train lurched around a curve, and he “accidentally” stumbled into you from behind, his chest pressing flush against your back.

“s-sorry,” he whispered immediately, voice low and shaky right by your ear. his hand brushed your waist like he was steadying himself. “i didn’t mean to—the train… it’s too crowded—”

he didn’t pull away, though. his fingers stayed, trembling, then slowly slid lower, palming the side of your hip through your clothes. you stiffened, heart jumping.

“excuse me—” you started, trying to twist around, but the crowd pinned you in place.

the apology sounded real. it really did. but his palm didn’t move in the way you wanted. it stayed on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt like he couldn’t let go. your heart slammed against your ribs. you tried to turn, but another passenger blocked you.

his breath hitched. “i…i’ve seen you so many times. you’re really pretty—i tried to stay away, i swear…” his hand slid lower, cupping your ass through your clothes, squeezing. the touch was bold, greedy, completely inappropriate. “fuck—i’m sorry. i really am. i just…can’t stop thinking about you.”

you froze, a cold wave of fear washing over you. his body—warm and solid against your back, his breath hot on the shell of your ear. 

the train car was packed—too packed for anyone to really notice what was happening in the tight space between bodies. his other hand came up, gripping the pole above yours, caging you in as the train swayed.

“i’m taki,” he murmured, like that made any of this okay. his voice was shaky, almost reverent. “god, you smell so good…” his fingers kneaded your ass cheek, pulling you back against the growing bulge in his pants. he was hard already, grinding slowly, shamelessly against you through his school trousers.

you whimpered softly, trying to shift away, but there was nowhere to go. “stop… please—”

“sorry,” he breathed again, the word hot and desperate against your neck. “i’m so sorry. i know this is wrong. i know i’m disgusting. but i can’t—fuck, i can’t help it.” his hand slipped under the hem of your skirt from behind, fingers brushing bare thigh. higher.

“just… just for a second. i’ve dreamed about touching you like this.”

his fingertips grazed the edge of your panties. you jolted, a scared sound escaping you, but the noise of the train swallowed it up. he pressed closer, lips brushing your ear as he whispered frantic apologies.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry…” he hooked a finger under the fabric, tugging it aside. two fingers slid along your folds, clumsy and eager, pressing in just enough to part your folds. you gasped, the sound lost under the rattle of the train. taki’s breath stuttered against your ear.

“fuck… you’re already wet,” he whispered, voice cracking with disbelief and hunger. his fingertips circled your clit—slow, shaky strokes at first, then faster as he felt you twitch under his touch. the pad of his middle finger rubbed firm little circles right over the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending unwanted sparks through your core.

you didn’t want this. you told yourself that even as heat bloomed low in your belly, as your body betrayed you with a slick rush of wetness that coated his fingers. your thighs trembled, pressing together instinctively, but that only trapped his hand tighter against you.

“why are you doing this to me…?” you whispered, voice shaking, eyes filling to the brim with tears.

taki’s breath hitched against your ear, but his fingers didn’t stop. they kept rubbing tight, slick circles over your swollen clit, making your knees tremble.

“i-i don’t know…” he whimpered, sounding genuinely broken. “i’ve wanted you for so long… i tried to stop myself, i swear. i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry.”

“take them out—!” you choked, panic rising in your throat. “taki, please… take your fingers out of me…”

you clenched around the intrusion, a sharp, shocked gasp escaping you that the train’s rattle mercifully swallowed.

“fuck… so warm and wet inside,” he groaned softly against your ear, voice breaking. his fingers curled, stroking your inner walls while his thumb kept rubbing frantic circles over your swollen clit. the dual sensation made your thighs tremble violently.

“ah—! n-no… not there…” you gasped, voice cracking as his fingers curled directly against that sensitive spot inside you.

but he only curled them harder, stroking that sensitive spot inside you while his thumb kept torturing your clit. the wet, filthy sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked pussy. the wet sounds were faint. but as your heart beat blasted within your ears, all you could hear was the obscene, slick sound of you being fingered in the middle of a crowded train.

“i’m sorry…i’m sorry,” he kept whispering, breath hot and shaky. “i know it feels wrong… but you’re sucking my fingers in. you’re so tight… fuck, i can’t stop.”

his other hand left the pole above you. the sudden loss of that anchor made you feel even more trapped as his arm snaked around your front, sliding under your uniform blouse. his palm cupped your breast greedily, squeezing the soft flesh through your bra before shoving the fabric aside. rough fingers found your nipple, pinching and rolling it between thumb and forefinger as he kneaded your tit possessively.

“stop— stop touching my chest!” you hissed, tears pricking your eyes. “taki… please… people are right here… i feel sick…”

“i know. i know this is disgusting,” he breathed, sounding like he was on the verge of crying even as he pumped his fingers faster into your dripping pussy. “but i’ve wanted to touch you for months…i’m a fucking pervert… i’m sorry… just a little more, please…”

your thighs shook violently. the wet, lewd sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of you were getting louder, completely humiliating.

“take them out right now— i don’t want this!” you begged, voice barely above a whisper but full of panic. “you’re making me… you’re making me feel gross… ahh—!”

your words seemed to snap something in him. taki moaned softly and started fucking you harder with his fingers, curling them perfectly against your g-spot while his thumb pressed firm, fast circles on your swollen clit. 

his hips rocked against your ass in time with the train’s rhythm. his cock was straining against his pants, leaking pre-cum into the fabric as he humped you like a desperate animal. every few seconds he’d mutter another “sorry,” voice cracking with guilt and lust, but his hands never stopped.

“i’m sorry… i know i shouldn’t,” he whispered, lips brushing your neck, but his hands never stopped. his fingers pumped slowly in and out of your dripping pussy, curling against that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust while his thumb kept torturing your clit. his other hand groped and massaged your breast, tugging at your hardened nipple until it ached.

you bit your lip hard, trying desperately not to make a sound, but a broken whimper still slipped out as his fingers thrust deeper, scissoring inside your soaked walls. the wet, filthy noises of your pussy sucking on his fingers were impossible to ignore now—loud and rhythmic in your own ears, each slick plunge making fresh shame burn through your chest.

the train jolted over a rough section of track, forcing his fingers even deeper. you gasped, your walls fluttering helplessly around the intrusion as the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter. his hips kept grinding, his hard cock pressing insistently against your ass through his trousers, twitching with every little sound you made.

“i can’t stop,” he panted, voice cracking. “i’m disgusting… i know i am… but i need to feel you cum on my fingers. please… just let me make you cum right here.”

his pace quickened—fingers pumping faster, thumb flicking relentlessly over your clit, hand mauling your breast as the crowded car swayed around you, completely unaware of the depraved scene happening in its midst.

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the pressure built too fast, too strong. your walls clenched violently around his thrusting fingers, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as slick arousal poured down his hand and wrist. the wet, obscene sounds of him finger-fucking you in the crowded train filled your ears completely.

“i can’t… i can’t stop,” he panted. “you’re getting even wetter… i’m so sorry— i’m gonna make you cum, aren’t i?”

“no—! don’t say that…please don’t make me cum…ah—!” your voice broke into a choked sob as the pressure became unbearable. your walls clenched violently around his fingers, thighs locking together.

the train jolted again, and that was all it took.

your body betrayed you completely. 

a violent shudder ripped through you as your walls clamped down hard around his pumping fingers. your orgasm ripped through you against your will.

sharp, unwilling, humiliating. slick arousal gushed around his digits, soaking his hand and dripping down your trembling thighs in hot, shameful rivulets. you bit your lip until it bled, trying to choke back the broken cry that still escaped anyway, muffled by the roar of the train and the press of oblivious bodies.

taki’s breath hitched sharply against your ear. “oh fuck—you’re cumming… you’re actually cumming on my fingers,” he whispered, voice cracking with awe and guilt. his fingers kept moving through it, curling and stroking your spasming walls to drag every pulse out of you. “oh my god it feels so good. 

his hips jerked erratically against your ass, grinding his painfully hard cock against you through his trousers. you could feel the wet patch growing where he was leaking, the desperate little thrusts becoming frantic and sloppy.

“shit— i’m gonna cum too,” he whimpered, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “just from fingering you… sorry—i’m sorry—”

his whole body tensed. a low, broken groan vibrated against your neck as he came hard in his pants, thick spurts of cum soaking through the fabric of his school trousers and smearing against your skirt. his fingers stayed buried deep inside your twitching pussy the entire time, lazily pumping through your aftershocks while he rode out his own orgasm, hips stuttering like he couldn’t stop humping you even after he’d finished.

for a few long seconds, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the rattle of the train.

taki slowly pulled his fingers out of you with a wet sound that made fresh shame burn across your face. he gently tugged your soaked panties back into place, almost tenderly, before smoothing your skirt down with shaky hands. his arm stayed wrapped around your waist, holding you against him as if he couldn’t bear to let go yet.

“i’m sorry…” he whispered again, voice hoarse and trembling. his lips brushed the shell of your ear, soft and desperate. “i know you’re scared. i know you hate me right now—i’m really sorry…” 

“i really didn’t mean to go that far. i just… i couldn’t control myself. you’re so pretty and you smelled so good and— fuck, i’m pathetic.”

the train began to slow for the next station. people started shifting, preparing to get off. taki finally loosened his grip, but not before pressing one last, lingering kiss to the side of your neck—somehow apologetic and possessive at the same time.

he stepped back just enough for you to turn around if you wanted. his cheeks were flushed dark red, eyes glassy with guilt and lingering lust. there was a visible wet spot on the front of his trousers.

“i’m really sorry,” he murmured one final time, barely audible as the doors hissed open. “please… be safe getting home.”

but even as he said it, his eyes lingered on your body, hungry and conflicted, like he was already wondering when he’d see you on this train again—and how much longer he could pretend he’d stay away.

© 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 2026 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.  𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 & 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗿 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱!

𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾—𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗈. 𝖻𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗌. 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ♡ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: evil taki for today, this was for a request but it ended up coming to over 2k words so i just made it into a longer post.

nsfw taglist: @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starl0stt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo @ampiesworld @rubyidk @maytaurus20 @whoisgwyn  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @zzniya @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @crushonfuma @enha-crumbs @zucchini-thepowerfull @pendragonfaye @guliexe @natthefreak @sailorinthesie @rikusqirl @mitsuyas-version @freetobeey  @xukeiko @fumaid @livelaughloveseventeen @berrysoft7 @gummiiiee @radxdga @hhoneylix @crdteezv @pageraf @yandere-stories @jpow345 @itzhbu 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

[smidare]

⠀

⠀⠀⠀ ROOMMATE WANTED ⠀⠀⠀ ❤︎ㅤ ⠀⠀⠀ hyung line

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒， after your rent suddenly skyrockets, you desperately accept a cheap room in an apartment shared by ej and his three friends—k, fuma, and Nicholas. You move in the same day.

at first they seem nice enough, but the masks quickly slip. your favorite panties start to go missing, someone’s laptop is left open to the most depraved hentai you’ve ever seen, one roommate has zero concept of personal space, another fucks his hookups so loud the headboard slams against your wall (you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose), and the last one has no respect for your or his privacy—giving you far too many unwanted close-ups of him jerking off.

rent's cheap… but you’re starting to realize you might be paying for more than you can handle

❪ MASTERLIST ❫ ✶ roommate!hyung line x f!r 12k wc⠀→ pure filthy smut but with plot! ░ dub con, non con elements, fuma's a bit depraved, dom!hyungline, ej is a pervert!!!, panty stealing, sub!reader, free use, spit roasting, gang bang, unprotected p in v, light choking, oral (m. & f. rec), praise kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, dacryphilia, overstimulation (m. & f. rec), come swallowing (m. & f. rec), degradation, bulge kink, spit kink, missionary, use of pet names, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (bad!!!!), marking, man handling, double penetration, choking, cumplay tit job, tit play, blowjob, handjob, cunnilingus, mean doms!, rough sex, recording, aftercare, somnophilia, size kink, reader is short, edging, pussy slapping, lots of sex (in every place, in every possible position), squirting, name calling, dry humping/grinding, marking, two faced ej & fuma, morally grey hyung line, ej calls himself oppa.

chapter : one , two , three

now playing : tiramisu by don toliver

REBLOG FOR ㅤ  ⁠❤︎ㅤ  A KISS

Nicholas didn’t tell anyone. 

Well, not that you knew of.

You woke to the familiar scent of matcha waiting on the counter and EJ greeting you with that same soft, boy-like smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose and slid the mug toward you. “Morning, y/n.”

K stood nearby, sipping at his americano, giving you his usual gentle smile when you entered. 

Nicholas wandered in a few minutes later, shirtless as usual, silver chain glinting against his chest. He leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs with that signature lazy smirk.

“Morning, short stuff,” he drawled, voice perfectly casual, like he hadn’t spent last night wrecking you until you passed out on his cock.

He didn’t wink. He didn’t smirk knowingly. He didn’t say a single word about what happened.

He just stole another bite, earning the usual gentle scolding from EJ, and acted like nothing had changed. Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, quietly playing on his Switch. His dark gaze flicked to you for a second longer than usual, but as usual, he gave you a nod—a low ’Good morning, ' falling from his lips.

The whole morning felt… normal. Far too normal.

You sat there in your sleep shorts and hoodie, thighs still faintly sore, pussy still tender and aching from how roughly Nicholas had used you. Every shift in your seat reminded you of the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy sounds your pussy had made, the way you’d sobbed and came so hard you blacked out.

Yet none of them acted any different.

It was almost worse than if they had said something.

You kept waiting for the shoe to drop. For Nicholas to make a comment. For one of them to look at you differently. But the day passed in the same careful rhythm as before.

And so did the day after that, and the one after that. Before you knew it, a week had passed without incident. The next few nights blurred into the same pattern you had come accustom too before Nicholas fucked you raw. 

The apartment breathes around you in that hushed, late-night way—dim lights, faint hum of the fridge, the lingering warmth of laundry detergent drifting down the hallway. Your feet drag heavier than usual, sneakers kicked off by the door with a soft thud that feels too loud in the quiet. Every muscle aches from the endless shift, shoulders tight, calves burning, but underneath it all there’s still that low, persistent throb between your thighs. A week. A whole week of pretending Nicholas hadn’t pinned you down and fucked you until you blacked out, sobbing his name like a broken prayer. A week of EJ’s gentle smiles and perfectly made matcha, K’s quiet smiles, Fuma’s dark gaze lingering just a second too long. Normal. Too normal. It made the soreness feel like a dirty little secret you carried alone.

You pad toward your room on feet that ache and a uniform far too tight. The door is ajar—only a crack, but enough for the soft glow of your bedside lamp to spill out into the hallway. You don’t remember leaving it on. 

You also remember closing your bedroom door before you left for work. Too tired to think that this is weird—maybe it was an accident. Just like everything before.

But that illusion lasts exactly five seconds.

There he is. 

EJ.

Kneeling beside your bed like he belongs there, broad shoulders curved forward under the familiar tan sweater, baggy jeans covering his long legs. The lamplight catches on his glasses, sliding them down the bridge of his nose as he leans in closer to your open drawer—the one where you keep the delicate things. Your panties.

He’s got a handful already. The pale pink lace you thought you’d lost weeks ago. The soft pastel blue with the tiny bow. Even the plain white cotton dotted with cheerful little bunnies that always made you feel stupidly innocent. They’re all clutched in one large hand. 

Your breath catches—sharp, involuntary.

EJ stills.

For a heartbeat the room is perfectly silent, Then he turns his head, brown eyes meeting yours through the cracked door, that soft, youthful face flushing pink. The gentle smile you know so well curves his lips, warm and reassuring. 

“Y/n…” he breathes, voice honey-soft, almost shy. He doesn’t drop the panties. Doesn’t scramble to hide. He rises to his full height, all that gentle length unfolding until he towers over your much smaller frame in the doorway, rolling his shoulders in that easy, familiar way that makes the tan sweater shift softly across his chest, the pile of your stolen underwear still in his hands. like a confession. “You’re home… earlier than I expected tonight.”

He drops down the fabric, hands come up in a small, almost apologetic gesture, palms open. “They got mixed in with my laundry again,” he says quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one long finger. The flush on his cheeks deepens just a touch, but his eyes stay soft behind the lenses, earnest and warm. “I… I was only bringing them back. I didn’t want you to worry about missing things. You work so hard, and I know how much you like these ones. The little bunnies… they’re cute. Like you.”

His voice lingers on that last word, soft as a caress, and for a moment it almost sounds innocent. Almost.

You stand there, heart hammering against your ribs, thighs pressing together instinctively as that familiar ache flares hotter between your legs. He’s so tall. So close. The way he looks at you—kind, thoughtful, like he’d do anything to make your life easier—makes something in your chest flutter even as your mind screams that this isn’t right. That the faint scent clinging to those returned panties weeks ago hadn’t been just detergent.

EJ steps closer, slow and careful, like he’s approaching something fragile. His hand brushes your arm, light as a feather, guiding you just a little further into the room. “You look tired,” he murmurs, that reassuring smile never wavering. “Long shift again? Let me make you something warm before bed.”

He slips past you then, the tan sweater brushing your shoulder in a whisper of fabric and warmth, his taller frame crowding the narrow space for just a moment too long. You don’t see it—the quick, practiced flick of his fingers as he tucks one pair (the pale pink lace, of course, the one that always felt too pretty for everyday) into the pocket of his jeans before turning the corner toward the kitchen.

The door clicks shut behind him, softly. 

You sink onto the edge of your bed, knees weak, breath coming in shallow little bursts that make your uniform shirt ride up against your ribs. The drawer sits half-open, the remaining panties slightly rumpled, as if his hands had lingered. Your mind spins—he was just returning them. He’s always so thoughtful. EJ. Kind EJ who makes your matcha exactly how you like it, who washes everyone’s laundry without complaint, who smiles like he’d never hurt a soul.

But the ache between your legs pulses in time with your heartbeat, tender and slick and traitorously empty. You squeeze your thighs together harder, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to the memory of his tall frame looming over you, the gentle flush on his cheeks, the way his voice had curled around “like you” like a promise.

Minutes blur. The faint clink of a mug in the kitchen drifts down the hall, followed by the low hum of the kettle. You should change. You should lock the door. You should pretend this never happened, the same way you’ve pretended about Nicholas, about the missing pairs that kept vanishing and reappearing with that strange, clinging scent.

But when EJ returns, the steam from the mug curling around his fingers like an offering, he doesn’t knock. He just pushes the door open wider with his hip, stepping inside as if the space is his to enter. The tan sweater is gone now—replaced by a simple black tank that clings to his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest, gym shorts riding low on his hips the way K’s sometimes do after training. His hair is slightly tousled, glasses still perched on his nose, that boyish smile in place as he sets the mug on your nightstand.

“Warm milk with a little honey,” he says softly, voice dropping into that reassuring register that always makes you feel safe. “It helps after long shifts. Drink up, y/n. You deserve to relax.”

The steam from the mug curls lazy and sweet between you, warmth brushing your cheeks and nose as EJ sets it down with that same careful precision he uses for everything—laundry, matcha, the way his fingers had brushed your arm like you are nothing but precious. He lingers—just for a second though, a second longer than necessary. His tall frame bent slightly over your smaller one, the black tank top stretching across his chest as he straightens. His eyes remain soft behind the glasses, offering you that sweet smile that for some reason feels not as sweet as it did weeks ago. now just feels awfully sour, but you swallow it down. It’s just Ej.

“Drink that before it gets cold, okay?” he murmurs, voice like smooth silk. One last gentle brush of his knuckles against your shoulder, then he steps back, the gym shorts shifting low on his hips with the movement. “Goodnight, Y/n. Sweet dreams.”

He slips out without another word, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound that leaves the room feeling suddenly too large, too empty. The pale pink lace is gone—tucked warm against his thigh somewhere down the hall—and the drawer sits half-open like a quiet confession. One you refuse to acknowledge.

You sit there on the edge of the bed for a long moment, uniform still clinging to your sweaty skin, heart hammering in uneven rhythms while the ache between your legs pulses hot and insistent, slick and tender and utterly traitorous. He was just being kind. Just Ej. The words loop in your head, soft and reassuring, even as your body remembers the way his thumb had circled your thigh, the way his taller frame had crowded you so gently it felt like drowning in slow motion.

You peel off the uniform at last, movements sluggish and heavy, letting the fabric pool on the floor before tugging on an oversized shirt and the softest sleep shorts you own—the ones that ride up just enough to remind you of every sore, used inch of you. The milk goes down in slow, obedient sips, sweet and warm, settling heavy in your stomach like a lullaby. The lamp clicks off. Darkness folds around you, thick and quiet, and you crawl beneath the covers, thighs pressing together tight in a futile attempt to ease the persistent throb.

Sleep drags you under in shallow waves. Hours slip by unnoticed.Then the need to pee pulls you awake, bladder insistent, body heavy with exhaustion. 

You slip from the bed without turning on the light, bare feet padding silently down the hallway, oversized hoodie swallowing your smaller frame, sleep shorts barely covering the curve of your ass. The apartment breathes around you in that late-night hush—fridge hum, distant city murmur beyond the windows—everything still and safe.

Until you round the corner toward the bathroom and collide straight into a solid wall of warmth.

Fuma.

He’s there in the dim hallway light spilling from the living room, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, the soft fabric doing nothing—absolutely nothing—to hide the heavy outline of him beneath. No shirt. Just miles of smooth, toned skin stretched over quiet muscle, broad shoulders and a chest that rises slow and steady as he steadies you with one large hand wrapping around your upper arm. His dark hair falls slightly messy over his forehead, and those sharp eyes—usually half-lidded with that quiet intensity—flick down to take you in, lingering on the way your big shirt barely covers the bare stretch of thigh exposed by your sleep shorts, the faint tremble in your smaller body pressed momentarily against his.

The contact is brief but electric. Your chest brushes his abdomen, soft and yielding against hard warmth, and you feel the heat of him—his skin, the faint musk of clean sweat and something darker, earthier, that clings to him after whatever late-night game or workout he’d been doing. His legs spread just a fraction wider in those grey sweatpants, the thick muscle of his thighs flexing as he holds you steady, keeping you from stumbling back.

You freeze, heart slamming against your ribs, the ache between your legs flaring hotter at the sudden closeness, at the sheer size of him looming over your much smaller frame. Nicholas had wrecked you with rough demand; EJ had teased with gentle patience. Fuma… Fuma just looks at you, dark gaze heavy and unreadable, the corner of his mouth twitching in the barest hint of something that isn’t quite a smile.

“Careful,” he says, voice low and rough from disuse, rumbling through his chest in a way that vibrates against you for the split second you’re still pressed there. His hand doesn’t immediately let go—fingers warm and firm around your arm, thumb brushing once, slow, along the soft skin just below your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.”

He towers. Easily. The grey sweatpants hang loose but cling in all the wrong—right—places, the heavy bulge shifting slightly as he adjusts his stance, legs still spread in that casual, commanding way he sits in the armchair during game nights. You can’t help the way your eyes dip for half a heartbeat, the outline too obvious, too thick, making your pussy clench around nothing. How the hell does he walk around with that?

Fuma notices your eyes wander. Of course he does. His gaze darkens, just a fraction. But he doesn’t comment. Not yet. Instead, he releases your arm with deliberate slowness, the loss of his warmth leaving a ghost of heat on your skin, and steps back just enough to give you space—though his taller frame still fills the hallway, still crowds the narrow passage in that quiet, heavy way of his.

“Bathroom’s free,” he murmurs, nodding toward the door behind him, voice dropping even lower, almost gentle but threaded with something heavier, something that makes the air feel thicker. His eyes flick back to your face, dark and steady, holding yours for a beat too long. “You okay? Look a little… flushed.”

The words hang there, simple and concerned on the surface, but the way his gaze drags down your body again—slow, deliberate—says otherwise. The grey sweatpants do nothing to hide how he’s half-hard already, the thick line of him pressing against the soft fabric like an invitation you’re not sure you’re ready for. Your smaller body feels even tinier in comparison, thighs still sore from Nicholas, still tingling from EJ’s teasing touches, now caught in the hallway with Fuma’s quiet intensity wrapping around you like smoke.

You mumble a small and breathless apology, and try to slip past him toward the bathroom. But the hallway is narrow. His frame barely moves. Your hip brushes the front of those grey sweatpants as you squeeze by, the brief contact sending a jolt straight to your core, his low exhale brushing the top of your head like a secret.

He doesn’t stop you.

But as you reach the bathroom door, fingers trembling on the handle, you feel his eyes on your back—dark, patient, heavy with the same quiet weight that makes the apartment feel smaller every time he’s near. The ache pulses harder now, insistent and needy, your sleep shorts suddenly feeling far too thin, far too short against the cool air and the memory of his hand on your arm, his thighs so close, the undeniable size of him barely contained.

Behind you, Fuma’s voice drifts down the hall, low and unhurried, almost casual but laced with that subtle command only he seems to carry without trying.

“Sleep well, y/n. Don’t let the quiet fool you… we’re always around when you need us.”

The bathroom door clicks shut, but the heat in your veins doesn’t fade. Not even close.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to steady your breathing, trying to ignore the way your pussy throbs, the way your nipples have peaked against the hoodie, sensitive and aching. When you finally slip back out, the hallway is empty again—Fuma gone, melted back into the shadows of the living room or his room, grey sweatpants and all.

But the air still feels charged. The apartment still breathes with them—EJ’s gentle patience, Nicholas’s lazy filth, K’s quiet smiles, and now Fuma’s heavy, unspoken presence pressing in from every corner.

You crawl back into bed, thighs squeezed tight, heart racing, the soreness and the new heat twisting together until sleep claims you once more… restless, dreaming of tall frames and grey sweatpants and hands that linger just a little too long in the dark.

Morning arrives wrapped in the same careful illusion. Matcha waits on the counter, sweet enough that you can’t taste the grassy flavour. EJ greets you with that boyish smile, dark blue hoodie soft over his broad shoulders, glasses slipping down his nose as he slides the mug toward you. “Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice honey-warm, eyes crinkling with the same gentle concern that makes your stomach flutter even as your pussy clenches at the memory of his fingers wrapped around your intimates. “Do you have work this weekend?” Nicholas asks mouth full of eggs, sticking his fork into your gyeran-mari to steal another bite of your breakfast, acting like he hadn’t fucked you stupid a week ago. 

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the cold mug. The soreness between your thighs pulses faintly at the sound of his voice, a dirty little reminder you can’t seem to escape.

“No,” you murmur, clearing your throat before speaking up slightly, “I’m off.”

The words feel dangerous the second they leave your mouth.

K, who had been quietly sipping his americano by the counter, sets his cup down with a soft clink. His tall frame shifts, gentle youthful features softening as he looks at you with a soft sweet smile.

“We should watch a movie together tonight,” he says smoothly, voice low and even, almost thoughtful. “As a roommate bonding activity. It’s been a while since all of us just…sat down and relaxed—I’ll even buy the popcorn.”

The suggestion lands softly, innocently, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But the way his eyes linger on you—dark, steady, knowing—makes the air feel thicker. Like he’s already imagining how small you’ll look tucked between them on the big couch.

EJ’s smile brightens as he sits beside you, still so soft and warm. “That sounds nice,” he says gently, pushing his glasses up. “We can keep the lights low. Pick something calm. You’ve been working so hard lately, sweetheart… you deserve to relax with us.”

Nicholas leans back in his chair, silver chain catching the light as he smirks around another stolen bite of your food. “I’m in. Long as there’s food.”

Fuma hums in agreement, eyes never quite leaving his switch or maybe because you are turned around—you just don't feel his dark gaze eyeing the shorts that ride up your thighs.

You sit there, heart hammering against your ribs, thighs pressed tightly together under the counter. The ache from Nicholas hasn’t faded. The memory of EJ breathing in your panties still burns behind your eyes. And now K—calm, patient, sweet K—is suggesting a movie night like it’s just harmless roommate bonding. 

The apartment feels smaller already.

You force a small nod, voice barely audible.

“…Okay.”

EJ’s hand brushes your arm under the table, light and reassuring.

“Perfect,” he whispers, so softly only you can hear it. “We’ll take care of everything.”

The day drags in that strange, suspended way — every hour stretching longer, every minute laced with the quiet knowledge of what’s waiting for you tonight. You try to distract yourself. You try to pretend it’s normal. But the ache between your legs never quite settles, and every time you shift, you feel the ghost of Nicholas’s hands, EJ’s lingering stare, K’s patient gaze, Fuma’s heavy silence.

By the time evening falls, the living room has been transformed just enough to feel intentional.

The big sectional couch is arranged with extra pillows and that massive blanket EJ loves. The lights are low, warm and golden, casting long shadows across the walls. Takeout bags cover the coffee table — fried chicken, pizza, snacks K actually went out and bought like he promised. The TV hums softly, waiting for someone to pick something.

You hesitate in the doorway, hoodie swallowing your frame, sleep shorts barely peeking out underneath. You feel small. Exposed.

K pats the cushion between him and EJ with that calm, gentle smile.

“Here,” he says quietly. “Sit with us.”

Your heart stutters.

You move anyway.

The moment you sink down between them, the blanket is pulled over your lap — K on your left, EJ on your right. Their thighs press against yours immediately. Warm. Solid. Unmoving. K’s long leg brushes yours, the heat of him seeping through the fabric. EJ’s shoulder rests lightly against yours, his hand slipping under the blanket to rest innocently on your knee.

Nicholas sprawls on the far side of K, arm draped casually along the back of the couch. Fuma takes the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, eyes already locked on you.

“How do you feel about horror, shortie?” Nicholas says, flicking through a catalogue. 

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Great.” He grins, selecting some recent horror film, the kind that makes you jump and press closer without meaning to.

The movie starts, opening credits bleeding across the screen in crimson letters. You barely register them. The room feels too warm. Too close. Your pulse is already a traitor, fluttering wildly in your throat as you try to focus on the screen.

But you attempt to relax and let the horror swallow you whole.

Until—

K’s hand moves.

It starts so innocently under the heavy blanket, his palm settling high on your thigh like it belongs there. Warm fingers trace slow, absent circles over the soft fabric of your shorts. Round and round in soothing circles. Like he’s simply grounding you during a scary scene. You don’t even register it at first—too caught up in the movie’s rising dread. The circles drift lower after a while, lazy spirals that slip down the length of your thigh, then back up, each pass taking him a little farther inward.

Still, you’re half-lost in the film. A sudden jump scare makes you flinch, and that’s when his touch shifts again—sliding beneath the hem of your shorts, callused fingertips now drawing those same slow circles on the bare, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Higher. Closer. The heat of his hand bleeds straight into you. Your pulse kicks up, but you try to stay focused on the screen, cheeks warming as his fingers tease the edge of your panties with every deliberate pass.

Then—his fingertip brushes right over the front of your crotch of your shorts.

Just once. Feather-light. A slow drag along the cotton that sends electricity snapping up your spine.

You jolt.

A tiny, involuntary twitch of your hips—sharp enough that your breath catches audibly. Heat floods your face. 

EJ turns toward you, his hand tightening slightly on your knee. “You okay?” he whispers, voice soft and concerned behind his glasses, brown eyes searching your face.

The words almost tumble out of your mouth—yes, I’m fine, it’s nothing—but they die instantly.

K’s fingers pinch the soft flesh of your inner thigh, hard. A sharp, warning bloom of pain that makes your eyes water and your throat close. You swallow the sound, swallow everything, and simply nod, quick and small, forcing your gaze back to the flickering screen even as heat floods your face.

The words almost slip out from your mouth but are halted as K pinches your thigh hard enough for you to swallow what you were going to say. You simply nod, attempting to focus back on the movie even as K’s finger returns, slower this time, tracing the seam of your shorts like he’s memorizing you, pressing a firm little circle right over your swollen clit through the fabric.

You keep your eyes glued to the screen, cheeks warm, pretending the tension coiling low in your belly is from the movie and not the way K’s fingers are now drawing those same slow circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Bare now—his hand has slipped beneath the hem of your shorts without you realizing, calluses grazing soft flesh. The circles grow wider, lazier, teasing the edge of your panties with every pass. Your legs tremble faintly. You press them together on instinct, but his hand keeps solid and unmoving, keeps them open just enough.

Your thighs tremble. You bite the inside of your cheek until you taste copper.

Another jump scare explodes across the television and you jolt again—smaller this time, but K uses it as cover. His long fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties, finally, finally touching bare skin. The first glide of his fingertips through your slick folds is devastatingly gentle. Wet sounds are swallowed by the movie’s screams. No one hears. No one sees.

Except him.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” K breathes against your ear, so quiet it’s almost nothing. His voice is velvet and smoke, warm praise that sinks straight into your gut. “All this for me already, baby? Just from a few little touches over your shorts?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your breath hitches as two thick fingers part your folds and drag upward, spreading your wetness, teasing your entrance before sliding back to rub slow, firm circles over your clit. The pressure is perfect. Too perfect. Your hips twitch forward on instinct and he rewards you with a deeper stroke, the pad of his middle finger wiggling just to dip it inside you—barely breaching but just enough to make your walls flutter greedily around the tip.

EJ’s hand is still on your knee. He hasn’t moved it. His thumb strokes once, twice, almost absentmindedly, but you feel his gaze linger on the side of your face a second longer than before. You keep your eyes locked on the screen, cheeks burning hotter than the low lamplight.

K curls his finger deeper on the next pass, sinking in to the first knuckle, then the second. The stretch is slow, deliberate, his thick digit filling you so easily because you’re embarrassingly wet. A tiny, broken sound tries to escape your throat and you choke it back just in time.

His lips brush your temple again. “Good girl. So quiet for me. Taking my fingers like you were made for it.”

He adds a second finger without warning—slow, so slow—scissoring gently as he pumps them in and out in time with the movie’s haunting rhythm. The wet, obscene sounds are hidden beneath the blanket and the film’s audio, but you can hear them. God, you can hear them. Every slick glide. Every tiny squelch as he fucks you open on his hand, right there between EJ and the others.

Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, greedy and aching. Slick drips down his knuckles, soaking your shorts. Your legs shake. You press them wider without meaning to, and K rewards you by pressing the heel of his palm against your clit while his fingers curl deep, stroking that spongy spot inside you that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes.

EJ leans in slightly, voice soft. “You sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”

K’s fingers thrust harder for just a second—punishment and pleasure at once—before slowing again, innocent as ever. You manage a shaky nod, lips pressed tight, eyes glassy.

Nicholas chuckles from the other side of K, lazy and low. “She’s probably just scared. Cute.”

Fuma says nothing. But when you risk a glance, his dark eyes are fixed on you, heavy and knowing, like he can see straight through the blanket.

K doesn’t stop. He never stops. His fingers keep fucking into you in that maddeningly slow rhythm—deep, curling, dragging—while his thumb finds your clit and rubs tight, slick circles. The pleasure builds like a wave you can’t outrun, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

You’re so close already. Pathetically close.

And K knows it.

He leans in one last time, lips against your ear, whispering so sweetly it makes your heart ache and your cunt throb.

“Hold it for me, baby. Don’t cum yet. We’ve got the whole movie left… and I’m nowhere near done playing with you.”

The pleasure coils tighter, vicious and sweet, every slow thrust of K’s thick fingers dragging you closer to the edge only for him to ease back at the last second—cruel, perfect control. Your walls flutter desperately around him, sucking him deeper with every wet glide, but he keeps you right there. Suspended. Aching. The horror movie’s screams blend with the pounding of your own pulse until you can’t tell which is louder.

You’re trembling now. Small, helpless shivers that you try to hide by sinking deeper into the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your fists. Sweat beads at the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in shallow, shaky little puffs that fog the cool air in front of you.

K’s lips stay pressed to your temple, breathing you in like he’s savoring how badly you’re falling apart for him.

“Such a good little slut,” he whispers, so soft, so fond it almost sounds loving. “Clenching so tight around my fingers… you want to cum, don’t you, baby? Want to soak my hand while everyone watches the movie?”

You nod before you can stop yourself—tiny, frantic—and he chuckles darkly against your skin, the sound vibrating straight down to where he’s buried knuckle-deep inside you.

He curls his fingers again, stroking that devastating spot with devastating precision, thumb rolling firm circles over your swollen clit. The wet sounds are louder now, obscene little schlicks that make your ears burn with shame. Slick drips steadily down his wrist, soaking into the blanket, into your ruined shorts. You’re a mess. His mess.

EJ shifts beside you as he hears a small whine escape you.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs, voice honey-sweet and concerned for the others’ ears. To you, it sounds like sin. “Poor thing… is the movie too scary?”

You can’t answer. K chooses that exact moment to thrust his fingers harder, faster for three devastating strokes—then stops completely, buried deep, simply letting you throb and clench around him while he holds you on the razor’s edge. You cling to his arm, nails digging into his skin.

A broken whimper tries to claw its way up your throat. You bite your lip bloody to keep it inside.

Nicholas stretches lazily on the other side of K, arm still slung along the back of the couch. “She’s shaking like a leaf. Cute as hell.” His eyes flick toward you, lazy smirk sharpening for just a second before he turns back to the screen.

The pleasure coils tighter, vicious and sweet, every slow thrust of K’s thick fingers dragging you closer to the edge only for him to ease back at the last second—cruel, perfect control. Your walls flutter desperately around him, sucking him deeper with every wet glide, but he keeps you right there. Suspended. Aching. The horror movie’s screams blend with the pounding of your own pulse until you can’t tell which is louder.

You’re trembling now. Small, helpless shivers that you try to hide by sinking deeper into the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your fists. Sweat beads at the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in shallow, shaky little puffs that fog the cool air in front of you.

K’s lips stay pressed to your temple, breathing you in like he’s savoring how badly you’re falling apart for him.

EJ shifts beside you, murmuring something soft about the movie, but his hand stays innocently on your knee. Nicholas laughs low at some jump scare. Fuma watches the screen in silence. None of them know.

And K knows that, so he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you harder with those two thick fingers—deeper, faster, relentless now—curling and dragging right against that perfect spot while his thumb presses firm, merciless circles over your throbbing clit. No more teasing. No more holding back. The rhythm turns filthy and sure, like he’s decided you’ve earned it.

“Let go,” he breathes against your ear, voice low and velvet-rough, lips brushing your skin like a secret promise. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like the needy little whore you are. Right here. Right now.”

The coil snaps. Hard.

Pleasure crashes through you in a blinding, white-hot wave—violent and endless. Your pussy clenches hard around his thick fingers, pulsing, fluttering, gushing slick heat all over his hand and wrist as you come undone right there between them. A broken, choked sob slips past your bitten lips before you can catch it; you bury your face into K’s shoulder to muffle the sound, body shaking violently against his. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your back arches slightly. Sparks explode behind your eyes and the world narrows to nothing but the devastating stretch of his fingers and the slick, filthy sounds of your release soaking everything beneath the blanket.

K doesn’t pull away.

He keeps fucking you through it—slow, deep thrusts that drag every last shuddering pulse from your ruined cunt, thumb still working your oversensitive clit in tight, slick circles until you’re twitching and whimpering, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. More slick drips down his wrist, warm and obscene, ruining your shorts completely. You feel it everywhere. You feel him everywhere.

“That’s it… good girl,” he murmurs, soft and sweet against your temple, pressing a gentle kiss there like he didn’t just wreck you in front of everyone. “Look at you falling apart so prettily for me. Soaking my whole hand… fuck, you’re perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

Your orgasm stretches on and on, smaller waves rippling through you as he gentles his touch but doesn’t pull out—just stays buried deep inside your fluttering heat, letting you clench and throb around him while the aftershocks wreck you. Your chest heaves. Your legs feel boneless. The movie screams on, loud and chaotic, covering every tiny broken sound you make.

K finally stills his fingers, buried to the hilt, holding you full and claimed. His thumb strokes one last soothing circle over your sensitive clit before resting heavy against your mound.

The aftershocks are still rippling through you, slow and treacherous, when the panic finally claws its way up your throat.

You can’t stay here. Not like this—ruined, soaked, trembling, with K’s thick fingers still buried deep inside your fluttering cunt and his cum-slick hand claiming every messy inch of you under the blanket. Your cheeks burn hotter than the low lamplight. Your legs feel like they might give out the second you try to move, but you have to.

You shift. Weakly.

K’s fingers curl once more—lazy, possessive—before he finally, mercifully slips them out of you with a wet, obscene sound that makes your stomach twist. He drags them slowly up your slit one last time, spreading your release, before pulling his hand free entirely. You feel the cool air hit your drenched panties and ruined shorts, the unmistakable warmth of your own slick sliding down your thighs.

Your heart hammers.

You suck in a shaky breath, force your body upright, and pretend that you aren’t still reeling from an orgasm.

A big, dramatic yawn stretches your mouth wide, eyes fluttering half-shut like the movie has drained every last bit of energy from you—voice comes out small, hoarse, edged with the remnants of that devastating orgasm.

“I… I’m really tired,” you mumble, already pushing the blanket off your lap, hoodie sleeves tugged low to hide the flush crawling down your neck. “Long day. Think I’m gonna head to bed early…”

You stand too fast.

The room tilts a bit and your knees wobble dangerously—highs slick and sticky, the soaked fabric of your shorts clinging obscenely between your legs. For one terrifying second you think you might actually fall, but you catch yourself on the arm of the couch, cheeks flaming.

K’s hand brushes the back of your thigh as you move—innocent to anyone watching, but you feel the silent promise in the way his fingers linger, sticky with you. His voice is low, calm, almost concerned. “You sure, baby? Movie’s not even over.”

EJ glances up, that gentle smile in place, glasses catching the TV light. “Rest well. We’ll save you some snacks.”

Nicholas just smirks, lazy and knowing, eyes dragging over your shaky frame for half a second too long. “Night, shortie. Sweet dreams.”

Fuma wishes you a small “Goodnight,” watching you with those dark, heavy eyes.

You don’t wait for other words to be said, you simply rush past them.

Bare feet padding quickly across the floor, heart pounding so loud you’re so sure they can hear it even amongst the screams coming from the tv. Every step makes your ruined panties rub against your oversensitive clit, sends another humiliating little aftershock through your core. Slick trails down the inside of your thigh and you pray no one notices the shine under the low lights.

You finally make it to your room, you fall onto your plush sheets, thighs squeezing together as another weak pulse of pleasure echoes through you.

K’s finger soaked in your release. His soft voice in your ear. The way you fell apart right there between all of them.

And you’re still dripping.

You fall onto your plush sheets in a boneless heap, hoodie discarded somewhere on the floor, thighs squeezing tight together as another weak, traitorous pulse echoes through your core. The room is dark and quiet, but your body refuses to settle. Every shift of fabric against your soaked cunt sends sparks skittering up your spine. K’s thick fingers. His velvet voice whispering good girl against your temple. The way you came so hard you had to bury your face in his shoulder while the others laughed at the movie.

Sleep doesn’t even try to come.

You toss and turn, sheets tangling around your legs, skin too hot, mind too loud. The ache between your thighs only deepens, a slow, needy throb that makes you whimper softly into the pillow. Minutes bleed into what feels like hours. Eventually you give up, pushing yourself up with a frustrated sigh. A cold shower. That’s what you need. Something icy to shock your body back into calm.

The good bathroom—the one with the rainfall showerhead and decent water pressure—is down the hall. Right past EJ’s room.

You pad out barefoot in just your thin tank top and damp sleep shorts, arms wrapped around yourself like that could hide how thoroughly you’ve been used tonight. The hallway dark. Everyone’s probably gone to bed but you still keep your steps quiet, and careful.

Then you hear it.

Soft. Breathless.

“…y/n…”

Your name, wrapped in that gentle, honey-sweet voice you know too well. You freeze mid-step, heart slamming against your ribs. It couldn’t be. You keep walking, telling yourself it was all in your head, maybe even the wind, anything. Anything but that.

But it comes again, lower this time, rougher, edged with a groan that sinks straight between your legs.

“Fuck…so pretty, my girl…”

Curiosity burns hotter than the shame buzzing through you. You slow, breath shallow, and drift closer to his door—left slightly ajar, a thin slice of warm lamplight spilling out like an invitation you shouldn’t accept. You press yourself to the wall, pulse roaring in your ears, and peek inside.

The sight steals the air from your lungs.

Ej is sprawled back against his headboard, long legs spread wide, sweatpants shoved down just enough to free his thick, flushed cock. He’s beautiful even like this—messy brown hair falling into his eyes, glasses fogged, cheeks flushed pink. One fist strokes slowly up and down his leaking length, thumb swirling over the glistening head on every upstroke. In his other hand, pressed tight to his face like a sacred thing, is a pair of your panties. Pale pink lace. The ones that disappeared weeks ago.

He inhales deeply, nose buried in the crotch, eyes fluttering half-shut in bliss. His tongue drags out, slow and filthy, licking along the fabric where your dried slick still lingers. A low, wrecked moan vibrates from his chest as his hips jerk up into his fist.

“Such a sweet girl," he whispers into your stolen panties, voice dripping with that same gentle tone he uses when he makes you matcha. “Mmh… taste so good...”

His strokes speed up, obscene and wet, precum slicking his fist as he fucks into it harder. Your name falls from his lips again—raw, desperate, almost worshipful. He sucks on the lace, eyes rolling back, hips stuttering. The gentle, thoughtful EJ who folds your laundry and brushes your lower back is gone. In his place is something darker. Hungrier. Two-faced and depraved.

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up. You take one shaky step back—then another—heart hammering so loud you’re sure it’d give you away. The hallway floor is cold beneath your bare feet, unforgiving. You turn just slightly, trying to slip silently into the shadows.

But your heel catches the edge of the small decorative table pressed against the wall—the one with the stupid ceramic bowl no one ever uses. It scrapes. Loud. Sharp.

A tiny gasp slips from your lips before you can stop it.

The sound cuts through the quiet hallway like a blade.

Inside the room, everything freezes.

EJ’s hand stills mid-stroke, cock twitching hard in his grip, flushed and leaking. His eyes snap open, dark and glassy behind fogged glasses. For one terrifying heartbeat, the only sound is the wet, heavy pant of his breathing and the low hum of the distant TV.

Then—slowly, deliberately—he lowers your panties from his face. His lips are shiny, spit-slick from sucking on the lace. That gentle, boyish smile creeps across his mouth, but his eyes… his eyes are pure hunger.

“Baby?” His voice is soft. Sweet. The same tone he uses when he brings you matcha in the mornings. “Is that you out there?”

You can’t move. Your legs feel welded to the floor, thighs still sticky with your own release from K’s fingers, pussy clenching shamefully at the sound of his voice.

The bed creaks. Footsteps—quiet, padded. Then EJ appears in the doorway, sweatpants barely tugged back up over his still-hard cock, the thick outline obvious and obscene. Your stolen pink panties dangle from his long fingers like a trophy.

He looks at you. Really looks. Flushed cheeks, messy hair, wide terrified eyes, the way your thin tank top clings to your breasts and your ruined shorts stick to your thighs. His gaze drags down slowly, lingering on your thighs pressed together.

A low, fond chuckle slips out of him.

“Baby…” he murmurs, voice so sweet it almost hurts, the same he uses when he asks if you slept well. “You’re shaking.”

His knuckle traces another feather-light path down the side of your neck, barely there, yet it feels like fire licking across your skin. He tilts his head, studying the flush blooming across your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls too fast beneath your thin tank top.

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he whispers, almost shy, like he’s embarrassed instead of thrilled. “Heard me moaning your name while I fucked my fist with these…” He lifts the panties again, slow and deliberate, pressing the soaked crotch to his nose once more. Inhales deep. His lashes flutter. A quiet, broken little sound escapes him.

“So sweet,” he breathes against the lace, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Even the ones you wore all day… I can’t stop. I try, baby, I really do. But then I think about how tiny you are, how soft and warm and wet you must get when you’re all alone in your room… and I just—”

His voice cracks, gentle and wrecked, but his fingers hook a little firmer into the waistband of your shorts now. Not pulling them down. Not yet. Just tugging, letting the drenched fabric drag lazily over your oversensitive clit in one slow, torturous pass.

You whimper. The noise slipping from your lips because you simply can't help it.

EJ’s smile softens even more, all concern and tenderness, but his eyes burn darker.

“Poor thing,” he coos, thumb brushing your lower lip like he’s comforting you. “You’re still dripping from whatever happened on the couch, aren’t you? Mmm, I heard the little sounds you tried to hide… felt how the blanket was moving.”

He leans in until his breath ghosts warm over your ear, lips brushing the shell.

“I’ve been so patient, sweetheart. Folding your laundry every night, stealing just one pair at a time so you wouldn’t notice… jerking off for hours with them pressed to my face while I imagine burying my tongue so deep inside this pretty little cunt you’d forget how to speak.”

His fingers press a fraction firmer against your heat through the soaked cotton, rubbing slow, lazy circles that make your knees buckle.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispers, voice still so soft, so loving it twists something filthy in your stomach. “Do you want to run back to your room and pretend this never happened? Or…”

He pulls back just enough to meet your wide, glassy eyes, that gentle smile never wavering even as his thumb drags another deliberate circle over your throbbing clit.

“…are you going to be a good girl and let me take you inside so I can finally taste it for real?”

The hallway feels smaller. Hotter. Your heart thunders so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

And Ej just waits—patient, sweet, and utterly depraved—your panties still clutched in his fist.

You should run. You should shove him away and bolt back to your room, lock the door, pretend this never happened.

Instead your fingers curl into his tank top, clinging like he’s the only steady thing left in the spinning hallway.

Ej’s breath hitches—soft, almost shy. “Mhm…That’s it…good girl.” The praise melts over you like warm syrup, filthy and sweet all at once. He walks backward, guiding you through his doorway without ever letting go, kicking it shut behind you with a quiet click that sounds far too final.

The room smells like him—clean detergent, faint cologne, and something musky, something desperate. Your stolen pink panties are still clutched in his fist like a prize as he turns, backing you toward the bed. The edge hits your thighs and you tumble down onto soft sheets, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. He follows, crawling over you slow and predatory, that gentle smile never fading even as his free hand slides up your thigh, pushing your legs apart with effortless strength.

“Shh, don’t be scared,” he coos, pressing your own panties against your lips like a gag, the lace still warm and damp from his mouth. “I’ve waited so long to taste what’s mine. Just let oppa make it feel good, yeah?”

His voice cracks on the last word—sweet, wrecked—and then he’s sliding down your body, yanking your sleep shorts off in one smooth tug. Cool air hits your soaked cunt and you whimper, trying to close your legs on instinct, but his broad shoulders are already there, wedging them wide. He stares for a long moment, eyes dark and hungry behind his glasses.

You can’t breathe.

Not with the way EJ looks at you—like you’re the only thing in his universe, like every stolen pair of panties was just practice for this exact moment. His glasses slip a little lower on his nose as he drinks in the sight of your bare, glistening cunt, thighs trembling in his grip. A soft, reverent exhale ghosts over your slick folds and you twitch, hips jerking helplessly.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice still that same gentle lullaby, the one that makes your chest ache even as shame burns hotter between your legs. “All swollen and dripping for me already… did K leave you like this? Or were you thinking about me, pretty girl? Watching me fuck your pretty panties, hm? That’s what did this, yeah?”

You try to shake your head, try to deny it, but his tongue drags up the entire length of your pussy in one long, filthy stripe and the only sound that leaves you is a broken whine. Ej groans like he’s tasting heaven, eyes fluttering shut for a second as he savors you—slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing every fold, every quiver.

Then he dives in.

His lips seals over your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, tongue flicking in tight, relentless circles that make your back arch clean off the bed. One of his long fingers teases at your entrance before sliding in to the knuckle, curling immediately against that spot that turns your vision white. Another joins it, stretching you open with wet, obscene sounds that should mortify you but only make you wetter.

“Oh my—fuck—jju—ah!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and his answering moan vibrates straight through your core.

“That’s it,” he praises against your cunt, lips shiny with your slick. “Mm say it again. Let oppa hear how sweet you sound when you’re falling apart on my tongue.”

He fucks you with his fingers faster now, scissoring them, curling, pressing, while his mouth works your clit like he was born for this. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging, pulling, unsure if you want to push him away or keep him there forever. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, from the sick twist of guilt and need twisting together in your stomach.

You’re so close already—embarrassingly close—thighs shaking around his head, pussy fluttering and clenching around his thick digits. Ej feels it. Of course he does. He’s so fucking observant. He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, that gentle smile curving like he’s proud of you.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss right on your throbbing clit. “I want to feel you cum around my cock first. Want this tiny little pussy squeezing me so tight I forget my own name.”

He rises over you like a shadow, shoving his sweatpants down the rest of the way. His member springs free—thick, flushed dark, curving slightly upward, the head already leaking steadily of precum. The sight alone makes you clench around nothing, a fresh gush of arousal sliding down your thighs. EJ notices, of course. His eyes darken behind his glasses as he strokes himself once, twice, smearing precum over the flushed head.

“Look at you,” he coos, hooking your legs over his elbows and folding you nearly in half beneath him. The casual display of strength makes your stomach flip—how easily he manhandles your much smaller body. “So small under me. Gonna look so fucking gorgeous stretched around me.”

The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance, teasing, pushing just the tip inside before pulling back out again and again until you’re sobbing, hips chasing him desperately.

“Nghh jju—please—”

Something in him snaps at your soft plea.

With one smooth, devastating thrust he buries himself halfway, the stretch burning so good your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Another push and he’s bottomed out, hips flush to yours, so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Ej drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, glasses fogged completely now.

“Fuck, baby… so tight. So perfect. Like you were made for me.” His voice cracks, sweet and wrecked all at once. “Been dreaming about this every night while I fucked your pretty panties…mmm—you feel even better than I imagined.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every thick inch of him pulsing inside you. Your walls flutter wildly around the intrusion, too full, too much, yet your hips twitch like they’re begging for more. Ej’s breath fans hot across your lips, his gentle smile twisting into something darker, hungrier.

“That’s it… feel me, pretty girl. Feel how deep I am.”

He rolls his hips once, slow and deliberate, dragging against that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyes. A broken moan rips from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, kissing you like he’s starving—soft at first, then filthy, tongue sliding against yours while he starts to fuck into you.

Long, deep strokes that make the bed creak. Each thrust pushes a wet squelch from your dripping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass. You’re so small beneath him, folded and helpless, and he uses it—uses every inch of that size difference to pin you down and ruin you.

You whimper beneath him, the sound caught between a sob and a plea, your much smaller body pinned so perfectly under his weight that every breath feels borrowed.

“Euij—too deep—fuck, I can’t—Nghh too much…”

The words tremble out of you, cracked and dripping with everything you’re trying not to feel, but your cunt betrays you anyway—clenching hard around his thick cock like it’s starving for more. EJ’s gentle laugh ghosts across your lips, low and velvet-soft, the kind that makes your stomach twist with shame and heat all at once.

“Can’t?” he echoes, rolling his hips again in that slow, devastating grind that drags every ridge along your fluttering walls. “But look at you, baby…sucking me in so greedily. This tiny little cunt was made to take me. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

He punctuates the last three words with three sharp thrusts that leave you breathless and writhing beneath him. He folds you tighter, knees nearly beside your ears. The stretch burns so sweet it blurs the edges of the room. You’re so full you swear you can feel the blunt head of him nudging against your cervix, a pressure that makes your toes curl and fresh tears slip down your temples.

You try to twist away—just a little, just to breathe—but his hands are iron on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open like a gift he’s waited years to unwrap.

“Shh, pretty girl. Don't fight it,” he murmurs, voice still that soft, reassuring lullaby even as his length splits you open again and again. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks… leaving those sweet panties for me to steal. Did you know I’d wrap them around my cock every night? Stroke myself raw imagining how tight you’d feel?”

Your face burns hotter than the slick mess dripping down your ass. “I—I didn’t… I swear I didn’t know—”

Another brutal snap of his hips cuts you off, turning your denial into a broken moan. EJ leans down, glasses fogged and slipping, lips brushing your ear as he whispers filth like a secret.

“Liar. You liked finding them, didn’t you? Smelling me on your pretty things… wondering which pair I came in last.” He bites down gently on your earlobe, then soothes it with his tongue. “My good girl. So polite during the day… such a needy little slut for me at night.”

You sob out his name—half plea, half curse—as he starts fucking you harder, the wet slap of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise quiet room. Each thrust rocks you up the bed, your tits bouncing with the force, nipples tight and aching. EJ notices, of course. He seems to notice everything when it comes to you. One large hand leaves your thigh to palm your breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak until you arch into him with a whimper.

“Jju—please—slow down, I’m gonna—”

“Gonna what, sweetheart?” His voice drops, dark and sweet like poisoned honey. “Gonna cum already? Go on then. Let me feel it. Give it to me.”

The coil in your belly snaps without warning. Pleasure crashes over you in white-hot waves, your walls fluttering and squeezing around his thick length as you squirt around him, soaking his stomach and the sheets beneath you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, tears streaming freely now. EJ groans long and low, fucking you through every pulse, drawing it out until your legs shake uncontrollably.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving—slower now, deeper, grinding against that oversensitive spot inside you until fresh sparks dance up your spine. “That’s one,” he breathes against your mouth, kissing the tears from your cheeks like they’re precious. “Come on—give me another, baby. Wanna feel this greedy cunt cum again before I fill you up.”

His hand slides down between your bodies, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. You jerk beneath him, oversensitive and whimpering, but your hips still chase his touch like you can’t help it.

“Too much—EJ, fuck—too much, please—”

“Shh. You can take it. You’re going to take everything I give you.” He kisses you again, filthy and claiming, swallowing every broken sound as he starts thrusting harder once more—long, punishing strokes.

You are extremely grateful EJ’s room is relatively far from the others’ rooms.

Because how the headboard is knocking now—steady, insistent, like a heartbeat gone feral—each heavy thrust driving it against the wall with a dull, rhythmic thud that would have given everything away if anyone were close enough to hear. But no one is. Just you. Just him. Just the wet, obscene slap of his hips meeting yours and the broken little sounds he keeps pulling from your throat like they belong to him.

EJ’s smile stays so soft, so fond, even as he manhandles your tiny frame exactly how he wants, folding you smaller, pinning you tighter. His thumb never eases on your clit, rubbing slick, relentless circles while his length drags along every sensitive inch inside you, bullying that spot until your vision whites out again. Pulses of wetness gush from you, coating his cock and his abs in your clear juices—soaking into his sheets with each long thrust.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…you’re squirting all over me,” he praises in that gentle, wrecked lullaby, eyes dark and hungry behind fogged lenses. “Such a messy little thing. Look at you—crying, shaking, creaming all over oppa’s cock. Mmmm…gonna have to change my sheets.” “Can’t—nnghh—too much!” The words tumble out of your mouth, mixed in with high pitched whines and moans. But your body betrays the words that fall from your mouth—hips still roll weakly against him, chasing the ache, and EJ’s eyes darken with satisfaction.

“See? Your body’s honest even when you’re not.” He starts moving again—slower this time, deep and deliberate, letting you feel every inch drag along your oversensitive walls. 

Another orgasm rips through you without mercy, sharper this time, almost painful in its intensity. Your whole body shakes, legs attempting to close as your release gushes out from you—tears spill and your cunt clamps down like a vice, milking him with wet, rhythmic pulses that force a guttural moan from his throat. He fucks you through it anyway—slow, deep grinds that stretch the pleasure into something endless, something overwhelming, even as you’re a trembling, sobbing mess beneath him.

“Thaaat’s it…give it all to me,” he whispers, licking another tear from your cheek before claiming your mouth again, tongue fucking into you in time with his cock. “One more, pretty girl. One more. I know you can give me another—then I’ll fill you up so deep you’ll feel me for days.”

You don’t even have the breath to beg anymore. Just broken whimpers and the wet, filthy sounds of him ruining you—skin slapping skin, your arousal and his precum squelching obscenely with every thrust, the faint creak of the bedframe joining the headboard’s relentless rhythm.

EJ’s pace turns meaner, hips snapping harder, faster, like the two-faced sweetness is cracking wide open to reveal the depraved hunger underneath. His free hand wraps lightly around your throat—not choking, just holding, thumb pressing possessively over your racing pulse as he leans down to growl against your lips.

“Gonna cum, baby. Gonna pump this tiny, greedy cunt full until it’s leaking down your thighs. You’re mine now. Say it.”

You try—god, you try—but all that comes out is a shattered “Jju—yours—” right as he buries himself to the hilt one last time.

His hips snap forward with a final thrust, cock pulsing thick and heavy inside your fluttering walls as he comes undone. Hot, endless ropes of cum flood you so deep you feel it like a brand—thick and heavy, spilling over and over until it’s leaking out around his shaft in creamy white rivulets, mixing with your own mess and dripping down the curve of your ass to soaking into  the sheets even more. EJ’s groan is low, broken against your mouth, his hand tightening just a fraction around your throat as he holds you there, pinned and full and claimed.

You’re still trembling through the aftershocks, cunt clenching helplessly around him like it never wants to let go, every tiny pulse milking another spurt from his twitching length. Tears streak freely down your temples now, and he chases them with soft, open-mouthed kisses, licking the salt from your skin like it’s sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted.

“Mine,” he whispers, voice velvet-rough, that gentle lullaby cracking at the edges with raw possession. “All fucking mine, pretty girl. Say it again while you’re dripping with my cum.”

You break.

The words spill out of you in a helpless, babbling mess, cracked and slurry and dripping with everything you can’t hold back anymore—

“Y-yours—yours Jju, m’yours—fuck, so full, can’t—too much cum, s’leaking everywhere, please—”

You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Just fragments, pleas, broken affirmations that melt into wet, hiccuping sobs as another weak ripple of overstimulation rolls through your ruined little cunt—your legs shake and your thighs tremble like they might give out any second.

EJ drinks it all in like a fine wine, that gentle smile never fading even as his cock twitches hard inside your fluttering heat, pushing another thick spurt of his seed deeper with a lazy grind of his hips. The wet, filthy sound of it—his release slowly leaking out around his thick base, sliding down your skin in warm, sticky trails—makes your face burn hotter.

“Shh, pretty girl…listen to you,” he coos, voice still holding that softness, thumb stroking slow circles over your racing pulse where his hand still collars your throat. “Babbling so sweetly for me while your tiny pussy keeps milking every drop. You’re already so messy, baby. All swollen and sloppy and stuffed full of me…mmm just the way I dreamed.”

He leans down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts tender—before his tongue slips in to taste your broken whimpers, fucking your mouth in the same lazy rhythm his hips have taken. Slow, deep rolls that drag every sensitive inch of his cock along your oversensitive walls, stirring the warm flood of his cum until it squelches obscenely with every movement. 

Your belly feels heavy with it, slightly bloated and claimed, that faint bulge of his cock pressing against your lower abdomen each time he sinks back in.

Ej’s low, satisfied chuckle vibrates against your lips as he keeps that lazy, grinding rhythm, cock still buried deep and twitching inside your cum-soaked heat. Every slow roll of his hips pushes more of his release out around his thick base, the wet sounds downright obscene in the quiet room—sticky, squelching, filthy. Your thighs are a mess, glistening with it, the sheets beneath you beyond ruined.

“Fuuck, listen to that,” he murmurs, voice husky and warm, almost proud. 

“Your little cunt’s so full it can’t even keep it all inside. Greedy thing…and you’re still trying to milk me even after I’ve emptied everything into you.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your tear-streaked cheek, then the fluttering pulse under his thumb. His hand on your throat stays gentle but firm, a constant reminder of who you belong to now.

You’re floating—overstimulated, dazed, body limp and trembling under him. Another weak, broken sob slips out when he gives one final, deep thrust, pressing that faint bulge against your lower belly like he wants you to feel exactly how much he’s claimed you.

“Shhh… easy, pretty girl. I’ve got you.” His tone softens even more, that sweet EJ resurfacing as the feral edge ebbs. He finally slips his hand from your throat to cradle your face instead, thumbs brushing away fresh tears. Slowly, carefully, he eases his cock out of you with a wet pop. A thick gush of his cum follows immediately, pouring out of your swollen, fluttering hole and running down between your ass cheeks in heavy, warm rivulets.

You whimper at the sudden emptiness, clenching around nothing, and EJ makes a soft, soothing sound. 

He shifts down your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your heaving chest, your stomach, until he’s settled between your trembling thighs. His tongue drags slowly up your messy slit, tasting the mix of both of you, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

“So pretty like this,” he whispers against your sensitive flesh, licking you clean with long, gentle strokes. “All puffy and leaking my cum… my perfect girl.”

He doesn’t stop until you’re shuddering again, another smaller, exhausted orgasm rippling through you under his careful mouth. Only then does he crawl back up, gathering your boneless body against his chest.

He wraps you up tight, one arm banded around your waist, the other stroking slow circles up and down your spine. His lips brush your temple, your hair, your ear—soft, reverent kisses as your breathing slowly evens out.

“My sweet girl,” he says again, quieter this time, like a promise pressed into your skin. “All mine. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to ruin you and put you back together.” His fingers trace the faint marks he left on your throat, then lower, over the sticky mess still coating your thighs. “Let me clean you up properly…”

And thats the last thing you hear before your overwhelmed body and mind finally give out.

You drift in that hazy, boneless space between dreams and waking, EJ’s warmth still curled around you like a second skin—his heartbeat a steady lullaby against your back, his cum still lingering inside your walls even after he’d cleaned you with such tender devotion. His whispers linger in your ear long after sleep claims you fully: my sweet girl… all mine…

And then—

You wake alone.

Your own bed. Sheets cool and crisp beneath you, the faint scent of your own detergent instead of his skin and sweat and that thick, musky release he’d pumped so deep. Your body aches in the most delicious, filthy ways: thighs sticky, core tender and fluttering like it still remembers the shape of him, a faint bruise blooming at the base of your throat where his thumb had pressed just right. You sit up slowly, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, and press trembling fingers to your swollen lips.

Did that…really happen?

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet.

You pad barefoot down the hall, legs a little unsteady, the oversized sleep shorts you somehow have on again riding up with every step. The kitchen light is on—soft, golden, spilling across the tiles like an invitation. Your heart does something complicated when you see a tall figure at the counter instead of EJ’s gentle silhouette.

K.

He looks even taller in the low light, easily over 185 cm of quiet muscle poured into that same black tank top, gym shorts hugging those powerful thighs. His normal protein shake is long gone; now he’s pouring something else—water, maybe—his movements unhurried, controlled. When his gaze slides over to you, slow and heavy, that same gentle smile curves his mouth, soft youthful features almost deceptive in their kindness.

“Morning,” he says, voice smooth like warm honey, deeper than you remember. He sets the glass down with a quiet clink and turns fully toward you, broad shoulders rolling under the thin fabric. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You freeze near the fridge, suddenly hyper-aware of how little you’re really wearing, how your nipples pebble against the hoodie from the soft chill of the apartment, how your shorts have ridden up, slick soaking the crotch—pussy clenching involuntarily at the way K’s eyes drag down your body—lingering, appreciative, and all knowing.

“I—yeah. Just…um…thirsty.” The lie tastes weak on your tongue.

He steps closer. Not crowding, not yet, but close enough that you catch that same musky, woody cologne, mixed now with something sharper—clean sweat, faint detergent, and underneath it all, something darker. His hand reaches past you to open the cabinet, chest brushing your shoulder just like before, heat radiating off him in waves.

“Here,” he murmurs, handing you a glass of cold water. His fingers linger against yours, thumb stroking once over your knuckles. “You look… flushed. Long night?”

The question seems innocent, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

You take the glass with shaky hands, lips parting around the rim, and he watches—openly, shamelessly—how your throat works as you swallow. A low sound rumbles in his chest, almost too quiet to hear.

You swallow the cold water, clearing your throat before speaking, “Um…Where’s Ej?”

K’s gentle smile doesn’t falter, not even for a second.

It only deepens, soft and almost fond, as he watches the way your voice cracks around EJ’s name. His thumb keeps stroking slow, lazy circles over your knuckles, warm and deceptively sweet, while the rest of him looms so close you can feel the heat rolling off that broad chest in waves.

“EJ?” he echoes, voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over gravel. “Ah…He went for an early run. Said something about clearing his head after last night.”

His eyes flick down to the faint bruise peeking just above the collar of your hoodie—Ej’s mark, left so tenderly—and that dark, hungry flicker returns, gentler than Nicholas but no less dangerous.

“He told me you were still sleeping so beautifully when he slipped out. All soft and puffy and leaking his cum like a good girl.”

Your breath stutters. The glass nearly slips from your fingers.

K catches it easily, setting it aside with one hand while the other—tugs at the waistband of your shorts. Pulling you close enough you can smell the notes of his cologne. Cedar and olibanum.

A broken sound slips from your throat—half protest, half whimper—and his fingers slip lower, bolder now, sliding under the hem of your shorts and straight between your thighs. Two thick digits drag through your wetness, spreading the slick along your swollen folds before pushing inside you without warning. 

A wet, filthy sound fills the quiet kitchen as he pumps them once, twice, slow and deliberate, dragging EJ’s dried spend and your fresh arousal along your fluttering walls.

God, how were you this wet already?

It’s almost as if K can hear your thoughts. 

“This wet at 9am in the morning?” K mocks, voice low and dripping with cruelness, that soft youthful face twisting into something mean and sharp as his thumb grinds slow circles over your throbbing clit. “Fuck, you really are just a pathetic little slut, aren’t you? EJ pumps you full like a good breeding toy and you still wake up dripping for the next one. Greedy. Fucking. Hole.”

You can’t even catch your breath before he spins you around roughly. Your back pressed against his chest as two long fingers plunged into your dripping cunt with a wet schlick that makes your knees buckle. He catches you easily—big palm splayed across your lower belly, pressing you flush against his hard body like you weigh nothing at all. 

“Pathetic,” he growls right against your ear, voice no longer velvet-soft but edged with cruel amusement. “Still leaking EJ’s load and your greedy little pussy is sucking me in like a desperate whore. You really are just a free-use cumdump for this apartment, huh?”

His hand clamps tight over your mouth the second you try to whine, fingers digging into your cheeks hard enough to bruise. You can hear faint footsteps in the hallway—lazy, unhurried—But K doesn’t stop. He finger-fucks you faster, meaner, the heel of his palm grinding against your swollen clit with every brutal thrust. Your juices run down his wrist, soaking into the fabric of your sleep shorts, the obscene sounds muffled only by how tightly he’s crushing you against him. Your lips part against his palm in a desperate, muffled plea—“please, K, someone’s—” but the words dissolve into a broken whimper as his hand presses harder, crushing the sound before it can escape.

Oh god, someone’s going to see—

“Shut the fuck up and take it,” he hisses, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Someone will see if you don’t keep your mouth shut—if you make a single fucking noise, I’ll bend you over this counter and make sure whoever’s coming gets to watch me ruin this sloppy hole.”

Your walls clench violently around his fingers at the threat, shame and heat flooding through you in equal measure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes—it only fuels him, its exactly what he wants—he laughs softly, darkly, twisting his digits deeper, stretching you wider. The size difference is obscene; his broad frame dwarfs your much smaller one, making you feel tiny, helpless, breakable.

You whimper, hips twitching involuntarily into his touch despite the shame burning through you. This can’t be happening again—But you only gush around his finger—it's like your body had become accustomed to being used like this.

“Mmm…EJ’s not the only one who’s been patient,” he continues, lips trailing down the side of your neck to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss over the fading bruise. 

“Watching you prance around in those tiny shorts. Fuck…I’ve jerked off to the idea of fucking this sweet cunt more than you can think.”

His confession hits like a spark to dry tinder. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, another rush of slick flooding out to coat his hand, and K groans low in his throat—still so gentle, still smiling against your skin.

“Good girl,” he praises, nipping at your earlobe. “See? Your body knows who it belongs to now.”

The footsteps pause just outside the kitchen.

K yanks his fingers out so suddenly you nearly sob into his palm, your empty cunt fluttering and clenching around nothing. 

He spins you around again, shoving your back against the counter, and brings those glistening fingers straight to his mouth. His eyes—still deceptively soft in that youthful face—lock onto yours as he sucks them clean with a filthy moan, tongue dragging slow between the digits like he’s savoring the mix of your fresh slick and what remains of EJ.

“Mmm. Tastes like a used-up little slut,” he murmurs, voice dripping with degradation. One big hand stays wrapped around your throat now, not choking yet, just a heavy warning as he leans.

“I’m not done with you yet, short stuff,” he murmurs, voice soft and dark as he tucks your hoodie back down with careful hands, almost reverent. “Not even close. Next time…I’m sinking every inch into this sloppy little cunt.”

© smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

© 2026 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.  𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾  𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌  𝖺𝗋𝖾  𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅  𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽.  𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽  𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇,  𝗈𝗋  𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇  𝗂𝗌  𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽

perm nsfw taglist: @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starlOstt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo @ampiesworld @rubyidk @maytaurus20 @whoisgwyn  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @zzniya @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @crushonfuma @enha-crumbs @zucchini-thepowerfull @pendragonfaye @natthefreak @sailorinthesie @rikusqirl @mitsuyas-version @freetobeey @livelaughloveseventeen @berrysoft7 @gummiiiee @radxdga

fic taglist: @wichujunseo @nichozzystuffs @yandere-stories @sassybananaweaselpsychic @trust-me-youll-like-it @chainedupmuttt @d3adg1rlie @loversfiield @snowcake666 @revelovly @soverignsepulchervigilante @ateez-atiny380 @kkzldk @wenosluv @takeme-tothewoods @deerhuntings @radxdgal @yethoughts @berrysoft7 @gabzillyyest @bloomedberry @yuu-kizx @minimonibabie @kontac @wenomakiluvr @jaasworld @livelaughloveseventeen @liveyourownlife4good @starl0stt

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authors note: it's finally here!! after the long wait, i finally finished chapter two~ i hope u all enjoy it because it took me awhile to write lolol chapter 3 wont be out for awhile because ill be focusing on other wips ! but i will work on it in the mean time :D

[smidare]

⠀

⠀⠀ ROOMMATE WANTED ⠀⠀⠀ ❤︎ㅤ ⠀⠀⠀ hyung line

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒， after your rent suddenly skyrockets, you desperately accept a cheap room in an apartment shared by ej and his three friends—k, fuma, and Nicholas. You move in the same day.

at first they seem nice enough, but the masks quickly slip. your favorite panties start to go missing, someone’s laptop is left open to the most depraved hentai you’ve ever seen, one roommate has zero concept of personal space, another fucks his hookups so loud the headboard slams against your wall (you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose), and the last one has no respect for your or his privacy—giving you far too many unwanted close-ups of him jerking off.

rent's cheap… but you’re starting to realize you might be paying for more than you can handle

❪ MASTERLIST ❫ ✶ roommate!hyung line x f!r 12k wc⠀→ pure filthy smut but with plot! ░ dub con, non con elements, fuma's a bit depraved, dom!hyungline, ej is a pervert!!!, panty stealing, sub!reader, free use, spit roasting, gang bang, unprotected p in v, light choking, oral (m. & f. rec), praise kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, dacryphilia, overstimulation (m. & f. rec), come swallowing (m. & f. rec), degradation, bulge kink, spit kink, missionary, use of pet names, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (bad!!!!), marking, man handling, double penetration, choking, cumplay tit job, tit play, blowjob, handjob, cunnilingus, mean doms!, rough sex, recording, aftercare, somnophilia, size kink, reader is short, edging, pussy slapping, lots of sex (in every place, in every possible position), squirting, name calling, dry humping/grinding, marking, two faced ej & fuma, morally grey hyung line.

chapter : one , two , three , four , five

now playing : deeper by partynextdoor

REBLOG FOR  ⁠❤︎ㅤ  A KISS

Your rent went up again.

Your landlord had the absolute gall to send you an email at 4:30 in the morning: “Due to market adjustments, your monthly rent will increase by $450 starting next month.” You stared at the number until the words blurred. That was half your paycheck after bills. You'd already been stretching every dollar, skipping meals some weeks, and now this. 

That same night, you invited your friend Yuma over, your voice shaky as you paced your tiny studio.

“Yuma… I genuinely don’t know what to do. They raised it again. I can't afford this anymore! I'm going to end up homeless!”

"Don't panic, god," Yuma muttered. He took a long sip of his soda, the straw slurping loudly in the otherwise quiet room, then let out a long, tired sigh. His sharp, cat-like eyes watched you with a mix of concern and mild exasperation. “Seeing you freak out like this is making my head hurt."

“Listen—I might have a solution. My friend Euijoo owns this big apartment with three other guys. The rent is stupid cheap because they split it five ways now. They've been looking for a fifth roommate for a while. The place is decent, and clean-ish, and I know you might be worried because it's 4 guys, but trust me, Ej is the kindest person you’ll ever meet. He's super nice and responsible. The others are chill too, I think K, Fuma, and Nicholas are there names. want me to text Euijoo for you?”

You were desperate. You said yes without thinking twice.

Within two days, you were hauling your suitcases up the stairs with the help of Yuma. 

Ej is quick to greet you, he stands there in the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, with that soft, kind boyish smile you’ve seen in the few photos Yuma had shown you. His brown hair falls slightly over his eyes, which are covered by thin-framed glasses. He’s wearing a light grey sweater, which hangs lazily off his thin body, and baggy light blue, ripped jeans that hang a bit low. low enough for you to catch sight of the brand of boxers he wears. “You must be the new roommate,” he says warmly, voice gentle and a little deep. “I’m Euijoo, but you can call me Ej if you want. Come in, come in—Yuma told me you were coming today. Is he with you?”

“Oh no, he just left. helped me bring my suitcases up, though. He said his roommate started a fire in their kitchen.” You shrug, dragging your suitcases past him and into the surprisingly spacious living room. It's cleaner than you expected for an apartment inhabited by 4 boys. The place smells faintly of cologne, laundry detergent, and something warmer, almost sweet. Sunlight pours through the large window, making the walls turn golden. It's far nicer than your old studio.

His eyes flick over you for just a second too long before he smiles again. “Must’ve been Jo. He's not the best cook. Anyway, your room’s down the hall, first door on the left. We cleared it out yesterday. You have your own bathroom, but feel free to use ours if needed. The water pressure in yours can be a bit off.” 

Before you can thank him, two more figures appear from the kitchen.

One is lean and sharp-featured, with blonde hair falling over his rough-featured face, wearing a black tank top, low-slung black sweatpants that show off the chrome hearts logo, and a silver chain. He eyes you up and down with a slow, lazy smirk. “So this is the new girl. I’m Nicholas."

The other one is maybe an inch or two taller, broader in the chest, with dark hair and a soft gaze. He's in a tight white shirt that shows that he definitely goes to the gym. “Fuma,” he says simply, voice deep and a bit raspy, gaze lingering on your legs before he nods once. 

“Ah, yeah!” Ej’s voice raises slightly, still holding that sweet and gentle tone, “K isn’t here. He works a lot, so he’s rarely around. But you’ll probably get to meet him tomorrow.”

He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it had earlier.

You force a smile, trying to ignore the way the air suddenly feels heavier. “Thanks again for letting me move in so fast. I really appreciate it. I needed this.”

“No problem,” Ej says, that kind smile still in place as he grabs two of your heavier suitcases like they weigh nothing. “Let me help you get settled.”

He leads you down the hallway, the others watching you go.

Your new room is small but cute—the movers had already placed the larger items from your previous studio in it. The big window with a decent view catches your eye first, a beautiful view of Tokyo shining into your room. Ej sets the suitcases down and lingers in the doorway for a moment.

“If you need anything… anything at all,” he says softly, eyes warm, “just knock on my door. I’m right across the hall.”

He gives you one last gentle smile before closing the door behind him.

You exhale, finally alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

That illusion lasts exactly five hours.

You’re unpacking when you hear it.

The first moan is low, muffled through the wall—coming from the room that sits next to yours. then another, louder. a girl’s voice, breathy and desperate.

thud. thud. thud.

The headboard starts slamming against the shared wall between your room and his. rhythmically. Hard.

You freeze with a folded shirt in your hands.

“Oh fuck—nicho!—right there—”

The moans get louder, wetter. The sound of the bed creaking violently spills in through the thin walls. You can hear the sound of skin slapping skin, the girl crying out every time the headboard hits your shared wall. The noises are so loud that you can even hear them over the music blasting in your headphones, but you don't say anything. You simply turn the music up and try to ignore the obscene noises from next door.

Twenty minutes later, when the girl finally leaves (you hear the front door close), Nicholas walks past your open door shirtless, sweat glistening on his chest, sharp gaze upon you, face remaining still as if he hadn’t been blowing someone's back out just minutes ago.

He pauses, just for a second, before leaning against your doorframe.

“Need help with anything?” he asks innocently, voice soft. His eyes drop. curse him for being extremely attractive, you think. eyes trailing over the sharp lines of his abs, the deep V-line disappearing under the waistband of his black Chrome Hearts boxers.

“N-no, I’m good,” you mumble.

He just nods, still smiling. “Cool. dinner’s in an hour if you want to join us. gonna order pizza.”

The first night passed in uneasy fragments of sleep; it’s not like you weren't tired—you were exhausted, but every creak in the apartment made you tense. The headboard incident from Nicholas’s room still echoed in your mind, but after he’d casually invited you to pizza as if nothing had happened, the rest of dinner had been… normal. almost too normal. Ej kept refilling your water with that gentle smile. Fuma spoke in short, low sentences but offered you the last slice without a word. Nicholas joked about how bad Tokyo traffic is while sprawled on the floor, his shirt still missing, but he never once looked at you for longer than a second.

You told yourself it was just first-day jitters. You were overthinking it. They were guys, of course, there would be situations like that. The rent was cheap. You could handle mild awkwardness if it meant not being homeless.

That’s what you told yourself. 

The morning light filtered through your thin pink curtains, painting golden stripes across the boxes you still hadn’t unpacked. Your phone read 7:42 a.m. Your stomach growled, pulling on an oversized hoodie and loose shorts—nothing revealing—you padded barefoot toward the kitchen, hoping to slip in and out quietly.

The scene that greeted you was unexpectedly domestic.

EJ stood at the stove in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, rolling eggs into gyeran-mari with careful precision. His brown hair was still sleep-mussed, glasses perched on his nose. he looked up when you entered and offered that same soft, boyish smile from yesterday.

“Morning. Sleep okay? The walls here are pretty thin. Sorry if you heard anything last night.”

Your stomach twisted. He said it so casually, like he was apologizing for a noisy neighbor instead of his roommate’s loud, explicit hookup that echoed through the shared wall. You forced a small laugh.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine. I had headphones.”

Ej nodded, eyes crinkling kindly behind his lenses. “Good. We try to keep it down, but Nicholas gets… enthusiastic.” he plated two slices of gyeran-mari and slid them toward you with a fork. “Here. consider it an apology breakfast for Nicho’s behavior. 

You murmured a small thanks and took the plate, perching on one of the mismatched barstools at the counter. The kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked for four guys: fresh vegetables in the fridge, containers labeled in a mix of Japanese characters and hangul littered around the kitchen. A bottle of Taiwanese chili sauce sat near the stove, next to a half-empty jar of gochujang that had clearly seen frequent use.

Fuma appeared next, broad shoulders filling the doorway. He wore a tight black compression shirt that clung to the gym-honed chest you’d noticed yesterday, along with black shorts. He mumbled a quiet “good morning” in that deep, raspy voice, then opened the fridge and pulled out a protein shake without looking at you directly.

But when he shook the bottle, his gaze flicked to your bare legs where they dangled from the stool. just for a second. then to Ej.

“Going to the gym. Need me to pick anything up on my way back?”

EJ wiped his hands on a dish towel, thinking for a moment. “We’re low on eggs and milk. maybe some more rice if you see the kind we normally get—and grab whatever snacks you want. new roommate might like something sweet after all the moving stress.”

Fuma’s eyes shifted to you again—brief, unreadable—before he nodded once. “Got it,” as he turned to leave, his broad frame passed close behind your stool. The fabric of his compression shirt lightly brushed your shoulder, warm from his body heat. He didn’t apologize or acknowledge it.

Nicholas finally shuffled in a few minutes later, yawning widely, hair sticking up in every direction. he was shirtless again, black sweatpants slung dangerously low. The silver chain dangling around his neck caught the morning light as he scratched his stomach absently.

“Juju, cooking? wow. He must like you, roomie.” he reached over and stole a piece of egg from the edge of your plate with his fingers, popping it into his mouth with a grin. “You look like you actually slept. Headphones must be noise-canceling.” his tone was playful and carefree. 

You shifted on the stool. “They’re decent.”

EJ signed, swatting Nicholas’s hands from your plate before shoving his own plate towards him. “Be nice, Nicho. She just got here. don’t scare her off before the week is over.”

You kept your gaze on your food, cutting another small bite of the gyeran-mari. It really was good—fluffy, perfectly seasoned. Ej was watching you with that same kind, eye crinkling smile, waiting for your reaction.

“It’s delicious, Euijoo,” you said quietly. “Thank you.”

Ej’s shoulders relaxed a little, as if your approval mattered. “Glad you like it. I can make it again tomorrow if you want. Or try something else—I know how to cook some Japanese dishes too.”

Fuma had already disappeared down the hallway toward the front door, gym bag slung over one broad shoulder. The apartment felt a fraction less crowded without his quiet, heavy presence, but the air still hummed with the low energy of the three remaining men.

Nicholas finished his water and set the glass down with a soft clink. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. " Don’t miss me too much,” he teases, before sauntering off towards the bathroom. Ej chuckles softly, picking up Nicholas’s now-empty plate and turning to the sink. “He grows on you. eventually,” he sighs, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge. “If the noise from his room keeps bothering you, we can switch rooms. mine’s on the other side of the apartment. quieter.”

You shook your head quickly, waving both your hands. “No, no, it’s okay. really. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“It’s not trouble,” ej said gently, his voice warm and reassuring. He adjusted his glasses, brown hair falling slightly over his eyes. “We want you to feel comfortable here. That’s the whole point of splitting rent five ways—everyone gets a good deal and a good home.”

The way he said it sounded so sincere. His eyes met yours for a long moment, soft and earnest behind the thin frames. Then he smiled again and went back to washing the plate, humming a quiet tune.

You finished eating and rinsed your plate, placing it carefully in the drying rack. As you turned to leave the kitchen, EJ’s hand brushed your lower back—light, guiding, the same polite gesture he’d used yesterday when showing you to your room.

“Careful, the floor might be slippery. I spilled something and had to clean it. It might still be a bit wet,” he murmured. His fingers lingered just a second longer than strictly necessary before pulling away. “Have a good shift at work today. text the group chat if you need anything—train directions, umbrella if it rains, whatever.” You paused, brows furrowing for just a second before relaxing. You hadn’t mentioned your job schedule yet, but you just chalked it up to Yuma, who must’ve told them. “Thanks… yeah, it’s a long one today. café closes at 9.”

Ej nodded, that kind smile never wavering. “We’ll save you some dinner if you’re late. leftovers heat up easily.”

You changed into your work uniform—a simple black polo and dark jeans—and headed out, the morning Tokyo streets already buzzing. Your shift at the small café in Shibuya was familiar: endless orders, steaming milk, wiping tables, sore feet by hour four. The pay was mediocre, the tips inconsistent, but it kept you afloat. well—before.

With your new living situation, things felt a little lighter. more manageable. You didn’t have to count every coin anymore.

So today, instead of settling for a single fruit sando from the convenience store, you let yourself splurge—ordering a warm, filling katsu curry, the kind that actually made the long shift feel a bit worth it.

When you dragged yourself back to the apartment around 9:30 p.m., exhausted and smelling faintly of coffee and vanilla syrup, the place was warmly lit.

EJ appeared in the hallway almost immediately, wiping his hands on a towel. eyes turning into crescent moons as he greeted you, he was in another soft sweater, sleeves pushed up, glasses slightly askew. “Hey, you’re back. long day?”

You nodded, taking off your shoes, carefully placing them next to someone's Rick Owens—probably Nicholas’s, remembering back to the photos Yuma had shown you. “Yeah. busy rush tonight.”

He smiled softly. “We saved you a plate—bulgogi and rice. Fuma picked up some extra side dishes on his way back from the gym.” His eyes flicked over your tired frame, lingering on the way your shoulders slumped. “Go sit. I’ll heat it for you.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving toward the kitchen. You followed wearily and sank onto the couch in the living room. Nicholas was sprawled on the floor, playing a game on his phone, shirtless as per usual. He glanced up with that lazy smirk.

Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, soft sounds emanating from the switch in his big hands. He gave you a quiet nod, dark gaze resting on you for a beat longer than casual. 

K wasn’t home yet—still at one of his late training sessions, EJ explained when he brought your warmed plate. The bulgogi was perfectly reheated, savory, and tender. You ate gratefully while the others kept the conversation light: Nicholas complaining about losing a game, Fuma showing you the Pokémon he just caught, and of course, EJ refilling your water with that gentle, reassuring presence. You wondered if it would always be like this. 

When you finished, EJ took the plate without being asked. “Nicholas’s will wash this.” Before the blonde boy could protest, EJ shot him a glare before continuing. “You should rest. shower’s free—the big one has better pressure after a long day on your feet.”

You thanked him and headed to your room to grab clothes. As you passed the laundry area, the washing machine was running again. Ej’s voice floated from the kitchen: “If you have work clothes that need washing, just leave them out. I do a load most nights.”

The offer was practical. kind, even. So you said yes, not thinking anything of it. 

The next morning, you woke to the sound of your alarm and the faint smell of coffee drifting down the hall.

When you shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie, K was finally there.

He was taller than you expected—easily over 185 cm—soft, youthful face with gentle features. This was the 28-year-old? god, did he look young. He wore a black tank top that clung to his broad shoulders and gym shorts that did nothing to hide the thick muscle in his thighs. 

He was standing at the counter, pouring himself a protein shake, when his gaze slid over to you.

“Morning,” he said, smoothly, and he gave you a gentle smile. EJ appeared right behind you, carrying two mugs. “Ah, you met K. He got in late last night.” he set one mug in front of you, “I made you matcha.”

When did you tell him you liked matcha? 

You didn’t. You were sure of it. But you decided to let it go; maybe you had forgotten. Maybe Yuma had mentioned it when he set this up. Or maybe you’d said something half-asleep during dinner last night and just didn’t recall. It was fine. EJ was just… thoughtful. That was all.

So you never questioned these small things.

For the first two weeks, your laundry is returned by EJ without incident. Everything comes back clean, folded, exactly as expected—until one day, a pair of pale pink panties is missing. You don’t mention it to anyone, brushing it off as one of those small, annoying mysteries, convincing yourself the washing machine must have eaten them. But it keeps happening. a lacey black pair, a soft pastel blue pair with a bow in the middle, and even a plain white cotton pair adorned with cute bunnies.

You find one pair, though, folded neatly on top of the dryer, smelling faintly like his detergent… and something else.

When you mention it casually at dinner, whispering it to EJ, he tilts his head, that gentle smile in place, brown eyes soft behind his glasses.

“Laundry mix-ups happen a lot here,” he says kindly. “If anything of yours ends up missing again, just ask. It might've ended up with one of us.”

He says it so sweetly, it almost sounds innocent. That’s why you simply let it go. 

You stand up to rinse your plate, when K’s slim but well-defined frame is suddenly right behind you at the sink. His chest brushes your back as he reaches over you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You felt the heat of him, smelled the musky, dry, woody aroma of his cologne. He didn’t apologize for crowding you.

You froze, plate still in your hands under the running water. shifting on your feet, as he stands there, tall body caging you against the counter for a long second. His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, close enough that his forearm brushed your side.

And then you felt it.

the unmistakable, heavy outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass.

It was thick—even through the thin material of his gym shorts and your sleep shorts, you could feel the weight and the slow, deliberate twitch as it nestled firmer against you. not fully hard, but definitely not soft. 

He didn’t say anything. he simply reached a little higher for the glass, his hips shifting just enough to let his heavy cock drag slowly along your ass—one lazy, unhurried stroke—before he finally stepped back with the glass in hand.

“Excuse me,” his voice soft, steady—that gentle smile still on his face when you peek over your shoulder. His eyes were soft, almost innocent, as if nothing had happened. As if his half-hard length hadn’t been pressed against the flush of your ass.

You told yourself it was an accident.

Just like the missing panties.

All of it.

You kept repeating it like a quiet mantra every time another small thing happened.

The next morning was no different than the last.

You shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie. The matcha was already waiting on the counter, the smell of steamed rice and miso soup filling the air. ej shot you that soft, almost shy smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Morning, y/n.”

K stood nearby, pouring his protein shake. When you moved to the sink to rinse your empty mug, he stepped in behind you without a word. ‘Again?’ you thought, his tall frame crowded the small space, chest lightly brushing your back as he reached for a spoon from the drawer beside you. the warm, solid press of his body, and then—just for a heartbeat—the heavy, half-hard weight of his cock resting against the upper curve of your ass through his thin gym shorts. It twitched once, slow and subtle, before he grabbed the spoon and stepped away as if nothing had happened.

You quickly stepped away from the sink, cheeks still faintly warm, and sat back down at the counter to finish your breakfast. Ej slid a fresh bowl of miso soup toward you, the steam curling gently between you both.

Before you could even pick up your spoon, Nicholas leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs, flashing you a cheeky grin. EJ immediately scolded him in that gentle, fond way of his, reaching over to lightly smack the back of Nicholas’s hand with a pair of chopsticks. “Leave her food alone, you gremlin.”

The kitchen filled with their familiar bickering and soft laughter again, the easy rhythm of morning chaos wrapping around you like a blanket. So you tried to let it pull you back in, not to let the strange tension from your moment with K linger in your chest… but the faint heat on your cheeks refused to fade completely.

Fuma was sitting in the armchair across the living room, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed posture, switch held loosely in his big hands. When the conversation lulled, he glanced at you and muttered in his low, raspy voice, “You play games?”

You nodded lightly. “Yeah. When I'm not busy, I used to play a lot more, though.”

He didn’t say anything else, picking up his phone from the side table and holding it out toward you.

“Here,” he said simply. “New trailer dropped. Looks good.”

You leaned forward a bit to see the screen. It was a gaming Twitter post — a short clip of an upcoming horror game. You hummed in agreement, “Yeah, the graphics are nice…”

Fuma’s thumb scrolled down slowly once, showing a couple of comments.

Then the feed auto-refreshed.

The screen suddenly jumped to the next post in his timeline.

It was a drawing—extremely graphic and depraved one at that. a girl bent over, face pressed into the sheets, tears streaming down her cheeks while a much larger man fucked her roughly from behind, hand fisted in her hair. The art was very detailed, glossy, and unmistakably intense: drool, flushed skin, visible bulge in her stomach, the whole scene dripping with depravity. 

But Fuma didn’t flinch; he didn’t even snatch the phone away or apologize. He simply kept holding it steady for another second before he tapped once, closing the app without a word, and lowered the phone back to the armrest like nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he grunted quietly, already looking back at his switch. The trailer was decent. think I’ll check the game out when it's released. Let me know if you want to play it with me.”

His voice stayed low and even. no embarrassment. no explanation. just that heavy, quiet stare lingering on you for a brief moment before he returned to his game.

You quickly sat back, taking a sip of water to hide the flush creeping up your neck.

You told yourself it was an accident.

He’s a guy, of course, he watches porn.

even if it’s extremely graphic and kinda vile porn. People have their preferences. You had no room to judge. 

Plus, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Twitter’s algorithm was unpredictable, especially if he followed random accounts. He probably didn’t even notice what popped up before he closed it.

just an accident.

like everything else.

That night, the headboard still tapped rhythmically against your shared wall with Nicholas; it wasn’t the violent slamming from the first few days. The rhythm was slower, more controlled now. The girl’s moans were much quieter—soft, breathy little whimpers that barely made it through the wall, almost like she was trying to stay silent. But Nicholas was a bit louder tonight.

Every few minutes, his low, rough groans carried clearly through the thin barrier. 

“fuck… yeah, just like that.”

a slow, heavy thump of the headboard.

“shit, you’re squeezing me so good…”

another groan, louder this time, rough around the edges.

You lie in the dark, frozen under your covers, heart beating faster with every sound. The girl stayed muffled and quiet, but Nicholas didn’t seem to care as much tonight. His voice kept slipping through—low, filthy, and unfiltered.

“Take it deeper, baby… good girl. just like that.”

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore it.

It didn’t work.

Nicholas groaned again, louder, the sound vibrating through the wall straight into your core.

“fuuuck… that’s it. so fuckin’ wet for me.”

god, you hadn’t gotten off since you moved in here.

between the long shifts, the constant low-level tension in the apartment, and the way every small “accident” left you flustered and restless, you simply hadn’t had the chance. Now, lying in the dark with your door locked, the faint rhythmic tapping and Nicholas’s low, filthy murmurs were making it impossible to ignore how empty and needy you felt.

You told yourself you’d just ignore it.

You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow.

But the sounds kept coming—almost slow, deliberate, and teasing.

another low groan. Another soft “good girl” that sounded far too close,

your hand slipped under the waistband of your sleep shorts before you could talk yourself out of it.

You were already wet. embarrassingly so.

Your fingers found your swollen clit and started rubbing slow, tight circles. You bit your lip hard to stay quiet, eyes squeezed shut as you listened to the muffled rhythm next door.

You told yourself the walls were just thin.

Every rough groan from Nicholas made your fingers move faster. Every lazy, vague praise pushed you higher.

Your breath hitched, hips rocking subtly against your hand, chasing the friction. the pent-up need that flooded you.  

“Yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”

You imagined it was you he was talking to.

You imagined it was your pussy he was buried in, his hips snapping against you with that same controlled rhythm, his voice dropping to that filthy whisper right beside your ear.

“Such a good girl for me…”

You imagined his voice was for you—that deep, satisfied tone praising you while he fucked you slow and deep.

Your thighs trembled as you rubbed faster, two fingers pressing firm circles while your other hand gripped the sheets. The headboard’s soft tapping matched the pace you set with your fingers, and every low groan from Nicholas pushed you closer.

It didn’t take long.

Your thighs are trembling—fingers rubbing harder, slick sounds barely audible under the blanket. Nicholas let out another low, drawn-out groan — fFuck… gonna cum” — it tipped you over the edge.

You came hard, back arching off the bed, letting out a small whimper as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around nothing, thighs shaking while you rode it out with frantic little circles on your clit.

through you, thighs shaking as you rode it out with small, desperate circles of your fingers.

When it finally faded, you collapsed back against the pillows, breathing hard, heart hammering against your ribs.

The apartment had gone quiet. Nicholas’s session must have ended while you were lost in it.

You lie there in the dark, chest rising and falling, a mix of relief and deep shame washing over you.

You had just gotten off to the sound of your roommate fucking someone else through the wall. god, maybe you were the pervert.

You got off to his voice calling someone else a good girl.

But you just told yourself it was nothing.

just stress relief.

just thin walls and a long dry spell.

It didn’t mean anything.

The next evening you came home late, you went straight to shower and then to drop your dirty work clothes in the laundry basket, Ej was already there sorting a load. He was humming softly, folding things with careful hands. When he picked up one of your smaller items—a pair of pale pink panties adorning pretty delicate bows—he paused for the briefest moment. His thumb brushed over the fabric once, almost absentmindedly, before he brought it closer to his face under the pretense of checking a stain. He inhaled quietly, slowly, then folded it neatly and placed it on the growing stack.

He never turned around. He never knew you were watching from the hallway.

You told yourself he was just being thorough.

For the next three days, everything felt almost… normal.

The apartment settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Mornings started with Ej already in the kitchen, pushing his glasses up his nose as he slid a fresh cup of matcha or a bowl of miso soup toward you with that quiet, warm smile—eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Morning, y/n,” he’d say gently, voice warm like he really meant it. K would nod at you from across the counter as he mixed his protein shake, his tall frame relaxed rather than crowding. Nicholas kept blatantly stealing your food, ignoring how EJ berated him for it. Fuma seemed a bit more comfortable. no longer just staring quietly from the armchair; he would engage in small banter with you, or even, when he came home with various packs of Pokémon hard, he would occasionally ask you if you wanted to open them with him.

Your laundry came back clean and neatly folded on your bed—panties occasionally going missing, but not as frequently as before. The headboard in Nicholas’s room stayed mercifully quiet; he even mentioned in passing that his “friend” was out of town for a few days. No accidental brushes at the sink. No graphic hentai flashing on anyone’s phone. no heavy outlines pressing against you in the kitchen.

You started to breathe a little easier. Maybe the first couple of weeks had just been an adjustment period—four guys suddenly sharing space with a girl. Maybe you really had been overthinking everything. 

That illusion lasts exactly 3 days.

On the fourth night, you came home exhausted from another long shift, legs aching and eyes burning. You barely managed a quick shower before collapsing onto the living room couch instead of dragging yourself all the way to your room. Your oversized sleep shirt rode up slightly as you curled into the soft cushions, the low murmur of the guys playing games somewhere in the background wrapping around you like white noise. Within minutes, you were out cold.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

When you woke sometime deep in the night, the apartment was dark except for the faint blue glow of a Switch screen. a warm blanket had been carefully draped over your body, tucked gently around your shoulders and legs, as if someone had taken real care. For a second, it felt comforting—until you shifted under the fabric.

Your sleep shorts were twisted awkwardly high on one thigh, the thin material bunched and pulled tighter than you remembered leaving them. And there, near the inner seam close to the crease of your thigh, was a faint damp spot. The fabric felt slightly stiff, cooler in that one place, like something warm and sticky had been pressed there and left behind to dry. Your stomach gave a quiet, uneasy flutter. You hadn’t been sweating, the rest of your body proof of that, as you didn’t feel any sweat on your skin. You were almost certain the spot hadn’t been there when you fell asleep.

Across from you, Fuma sat slumped in the oversized armchair, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed, dominating posture. The switch rested loosely in his hands, the low volume of what you think is Pokémon barely audible. His face was half-lit by the screen, expression calm and completely absorbed, as if he’d been sitting there the entire time.

He must have felt you stir because he glanced over, warm brown eyes meeting yours without surprise. His voice came out low and raspy, even and unbothered, like he was simply stating a fact.

“You looked cold,” he said simply, thumb still moving over the controls. “I figured I’d cover you.”

You blinked slowly, still groggy, pulling the blanket a little higher as you tried to subtly adjust your twisted shorts beneath it. The damp patch brushed against your skin again—unmistakable now, warm against your inner thigh. Your cheeks burned. had he…?

You internally shake your head. god, Fuma isn’t a pervert. He would never. The dampness was probably just… condensation. Or maybe sweat from the warm blanket that covered your body. or even your imagination running wild because of all those tiny “accidents” from before.

You tried to convince yourself. You really did.

Sleep didn’t come back easily. Every time you shifted under the blanket, the damp spot on your shorts brushed against your inner thigh again. The blue glow from Fuma’s Switch flickered across the dark living room. He hadn’t moved, legs still spread wide, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other tapped at the controls. In the low light, you could see the outline of his cock through the thin material of his sweatpants—half-hard, resting thick against his inner thigh. 

god, was he big.

Even soft—well, mostly soft—the heavy shape of him was impossible to ignore. not too long but most definitely thick, the shaft lying diagonally down his leg, the head nudging noticeably against the fabric. You could make out the faint ridge where the bulbous, swollen tip pressed outward, and the way the material stretched slightly over the girth. it looked… heavy. The kind of thick that would stretch you open, make your thighs tremble just trying to take him. The kind of size that would leave a visible bulge in your stomach if he ever pushed all the way in.

Your mouth went dry. ok well, now you were the pervert. definitely the pervert. First getting off to Nicholas’s sexual escapades to thinking Fuma was to defile you, and now staring intently at his dick like some desperate, touch-starved mess.

You told yourself to stop staring, to look away, but your eyes kept drifting back. How was something that thick even real? You’d felt K press against you before, but this… this was on another level. Fuma wasn’t even fully hard yet, and he already looked like he could ruin you.

Before your mind could wander any further, you swallowed and sat up slowly, keeping the blanket wrapped around your waist as you tried to fix your twisted shorts without drawing attention. The movement made the damp fabric drag across your pussy, and you froze. There was another spot right there—right against your covered folds. When you glanced down under the edge of the blanket, you could see the faint stain; it wasn't just damp. It was slick. 

You decided to ignore it, chalk it up to another accident. Just as you did everything else that had occurred whilst you lived here.

You forced your gaze away from the sticky mess between your legs and pulled the blanket higher, pretending the warm, tacky smear of cum wasn’t slowly soaking through the thin cotton and coating your pussy lips. You told yourself it was sweat. condensation. anything but what it clearly was—thick ropes of someone’s load rubbed right against your most sensitive skin while you slept.

You forced yourself to stand up on shaky legs, clutching the blanket tightly around your waist like a shield. The damp, sticky fabric of your shorts clung obscenely to your pussy as you moved, the thick smear of cum sliding wetly between your folds with every step. It felt warm and tacky, meaning that this had occurred recently. 

The short walk down the hallway felt endless. Your bare feet padding softly against the floor, the sticky drag between your legs was impossible to forget. You slipped inside and closed the door behind you a little too quickly, leaning back against the wood as you finally let the blanket drop. The cool air hit your skin, but it did nothing to calm the burning between your legs.

You barely had a moment to steady yourself before a soft, firm knock sounded on the door.

Without waiting for an answer, the knob turned. Fuma stood there, filling the doorway with his tall frame. In his large hand was your phone, screen dark. He held it out toward you, his expression calm and unreadable as always.

“You left this on the couch,” he said, voice low and raspy, barely above a murmur.

His eyes flicked down for a second, just once—slow, heavy—landing on the obvious damp patch darkening the crotch of your sleep shorts. he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t need to. The glossy cum stain was unmistakable in the dim light of your room, the thin fabric clinging to your folds where someone's cum had soaked through while you slept.

He stepped just inside the doorway, not fully entering but close enough that the air felt heavier. He extended the phone a little further, his gaze lifting back to your face after that single, deliberate glance. “Didn’t want you waking up without it,” he added quietly.

You took the phone with quick fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they wouldn’t quite stop trembling. He lingered there for a moment longer, tall and silent, his expression as neutral as ever. His eyes flicked down once more—brief, almost casual—before returning to yours.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, voice low and even. “It looked like you were having a hard time sleeping out there.”

The question was simple. polite, even. But it carried a weight that made your stomach tighten.

You managed a small nod, clutching the phone against your chest like a lifeline. “I’m fine. just tired. long day at work.”

Fuma hummed softly, the sound barely audible. He gave one slow nod, then took a half-step back toward the hallway, though he didn’t turn to leave just yet. His muscular frame still filled most of the doorway, the faint outline in his sweatpants visible in the low light.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he finally turned and pulled the door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving you alone in your room once more.

You told yourself it was nothing.

Somehow, just another accident.

like everything else so far had been.

It was a little past midnight. You couldn’t sleep. Honestly,  you hadn’t really been able to sleep these last few days. You’d been tossing and turning, mind replaying too many small things at once—k’s heavy cock dragging against your ass at the sink that morning, ej’s quiet inhale over your panties, nicholas’s low “good girl” through the wall two nights ago, and now the concept that fuma had come on your shorts whilst you were sleeping. the same shorts discarded next to your bed. 

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Thirsty and restless, you slipped out of bed in just your oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, padding barefoot toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

The hallway was dark, but K’s door was slightly ajar— just a few inches.

You almost walked past.

But then you heard it.

A low, slow, controlled breath. Then your name.

You froze mid-step.

through the narrow gap, the dim light from his bedside lamp spilled out. There he was, pressed against his headboard, completely naked. long legs spread wide.

His hand was wrapped around his cock.

He was stroking himself with slow, deliberate movements—long strokes from base to tip, thumb lingering over the flushed head every time. His cock was long and, dare you say, pretty; it looked bigger than it had felt pressed against your ass. The veins stood out clearly along the shaft, the head flushed dark and glistening with precum.

K’s head was tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded, but his expression wasn’t lost in pleasure as you’d expect. It was calm. almost focused. That same gentle, youthful face he always showed you in the mornings—soft features, quiet composure—was still there while he pumped his thick cock in his fist. You would’ve walked away if it weren't for your name slipping from his mouth amongst the soft moans escaping him.

It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but you heard it clearly.

His voice was low and smooth, the same gentle tone he used when he said “excuse me” at the sink. Except now it was laced with something heavier, something hungry.

He stroked himself a little slower, dragging his hand down the full length as he breathed your name again, softer this time.

“Fuuck… y/n…”

Your stomach dropped. heat flooding your face and warmth pooling low between your thighs. You stood frozen in the dark hallway, unable to look away as K continued touching himself— calm, controlled, and breathing out your name as a prayer.

His thumb circled the leaking head once more, spreading the precum before he gave himself another long, smooth stroke. His hips twitched up slightly into his fist, but his expression stayed almost serene, like he was savoring it.

He moaned your name again, quieter, almost reverent.

“…love that cute little ass… bet you’d feel so tight around me…”

Your breath caught.

For the first time, one of the “accidents” no longer felt like an accident at all.

And that was confirmed as he looked straight at you through the gap in the door. He didn’t stop, nor did he flinch. he didn’t even look embarrassed. He simply kept stroking—slow, steady, unhurried—while his dark gaze locked onto yours. The corner of his mouth lifted into that same gentle, almost innocent smile he always gave you when he “accidentally” crowded you at the sink.

You were no longer thirsty. 

Reality had crashed back in.

Heart pounding, face burning, you tore your eyes away from the sight of k slowly stroking his thick cock while groaning your name, and turned sharply on your heel.

You walked away.

Fast.

The second you closed the door, you locked it with shaking fingers and leaned your back against the wood, breathing hard.

Thighs pressed tightly together. The warmth between your legs hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

You could still hear his voice in your head.

“…God…Wanna fuck those pretty tits too.”

“…Bet you’d feel so tight around me…”

You squeezed your eyes shut and slid down the door until you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest.

You told yourself it was nothing. just another accident. just guys being guys. But this time the lie tasted bitter.

because he had looked straight at you. he had moaned your name. he had smiled that gentle smile while he stroked his cock.

And you had stood there and watched for much longer than you should have. You don't get any sleep that night.

The next morning came far too soon.

You woke up with a heavy, restless feeling in your chest and an annoying ache between your legs that refused to disappear completely. The memory of K’s calm face and the slow, deliberate way he stroked his cock while moaning your name kept flashing behind your eyes every time you blinked.

You told yourself to act normal.

You told yourself nothing had changed.

You told yourself it was still just an accident.

But even your body didn’t believe you.

You shuffled into the kitchen in your usual sleep shorts and oversized hoodie, trying to keep your steps light and your face neutral. 

The familiar scent of fried eggs over rice hit you before you even fully entered the room.

Ej was already at the stove, his glasses falling onto the tip of his nose as he greeted you with a smile. “Morning, y/n. matcha’s ready for you,” he said gently, setting the mug down on the counter exactly where you normally sat

K was standing a few feet away, sipping his americano when you walked in. He looked up and gave you that same gentle, youthful smile—calm, composed, almost sweet, as usual. an expression you’d become accustomed to. just not when his hand was wrapped around his veiny length. “Morning,” he said smoothly, his voice low and kind, as always.

But his eyes lingered. tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. 

Your eyes met, just for a second. just long enough for you to remember how those same dark eyes had looked at you through the gap in his door last night while his hand moved slowly up and down his wet cock.

You forced a small nod, putting on your best “oh, I'm completely okay, definitely not spiraling over seeing my extremely attractive roommate jerk off whilst he moans my name” face and mumbled “morning” before quickly moving to sit at the counter, keeping your gaze fixed on the matcha mug.

Nicholas wandered in a minute later, black tank hugging his well-built frame, baggy jeans just low enough to show off the expensive underwear he wore, silver chain catching the light. He stretched lazily, yawning, then shot you a lazy smirk. “You look a little tired, short stuff. rough night?”

You nearly choked on your first sip of matcha.

Fuma was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he was at the gym, and it even worked. Even with one of the four missing, the kitchen felt a lot smaller than usual.

When you stood up to rinse your empty mug, your stomach tightened.

K moved at the same time.

He stepped in right behind you at the sink, tall frame crowding your space like he always did. His chest brushes your back. You felt the heat of him immediately, along with the faint scent of his woody cologne.

His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, and then you felt it again, the heavy, half-hard outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass. again. 

But this time it felt different.

He didn’t make it quick. He let himself linger for far longer than necessary. letting his length rest along your ass for a long second, thick and warm, before slowly rolling his hips once—a lazy, deliberate drag along your ass that made your breath hitch. “Excuse me,” he murmured softly near your ear, voice gentle and polite like always.

But you could hear the faint smile in it now. like he knew you had seen him last night. almost as if he knew you had stood there and watched him stroke his cock while he whispered your name. almost like he was reminding you.

K stayed pressed against you for another heartbeat, letting you feel the full weight and warmth of him, before he finally stepped back with the glass he’d been “reaching” for. You quickly rinsed your mug, hands slightly shaky, and sat back down without looking at anyone.

The rest of breakfast passed in a haze. You barely tasted the food that EJ had made. Every time K moved or spoke in that calm, gentle voice, your mind flashed back to the night before—his long, wet, pretty cock easily sliding through his fist, the soft way he moaned your name, eyebrows crinkled with his head thrown back. 

You left for work as quickly as possible, mumbling a quiet goodbye.

The entire shift dragged. Your mind kept drifting. You burned two orders of tonkatsu, and the latte art, which you usually excel at, looked as if it were made by a kindergartner with two left hands. and nearly dropped a tray because you couldn’t stop replaying the low, controlled way K had whispered “y/n…” while stroking himself.

By the time you got home that evening, you were exhausted, frustrated, and unbearably pent up.

The apartment felt empty when you stepped inside. You glanced at the front door—no shoes on you. No Rick Owens, no adidas, no gym sneakers, or running shoes, nothing. No lights on in the living room. No familiar sounds coming from the kitchen or any of the bedrooms. You assumed everyone was still out—probably at the gym, working, running errands, or wherever they usually disappeared to in the evenings. You let out a small sigh of relief. No one was home. finally

The moment the front door clicked shut behind you, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud echoing down the quiet hallway. feet carrying you straight to your room as if you were on autopilot. The second the door swung closed, you pushed it with your foot — not realizing you never heard that familiar, satisfying click of the lock.

Only then did you exhale.

You stripped quickly, letting your clothes pool on the floor until you were left in nothing but an oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame. The soft fabric brushed against your bare thighs as you crawled under the covers, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

The moment your head hit the pillow, the images flooded in—unwanted, unrelenting, and far too vivid. K’s calm, gentle face as he slowly stroked his long, pretty cock. the lazy roll of his hips against your ass this morning. the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred within his dimly lit room.

Your hand crept under the oversized hoodie before you could talk yourself out of it. fingers slipping between your thighs, a shaky breath left you. 

You were already soaked. embarrassingly so. The thin fabric of your panties is doing almost nothing to contain the wetness between your legs. 

Your fingers slipped between your thighs as a shaky breath left you.

Your clit was swollen and sensitive from a full day of low-level arousal you couldn’t shake. You began rubbing slow, tight circles, eyes squeezed shut. But it wasn’t quite enough. Finally, you gave in and slid two fingers lower, teasing your entrance before pushing them inside. The stretch made you whimper softly. You hadn’t realized you were this pent up. Your walls clenching greedily around your own fingers, wet and hot, pulling them deeper as you started a slow, shallow rhythm. You curled your fingers, searching for that spot that always made your toes curl, while your other hand kept rubbing firm circles over your clit.

“Fuck…” You shuddered, voice breaking as you rubbed at your swollen clit with frantic little circles, fingers still buried deep inside your soaked pussy.

The pleasure was building up fast now. You rolled onto your stomach, hips lifted in the air, blanket kicked aside—soft, slick noises that would’ve mortified you if you weren’t already so far gone filled the room. Your moans grew higher, less controlled, spilling freely because you were so sure the apartment was empty.

You were getting close. Your moans turned higher, less controlled. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your fingers working your soaked pussy grew even more obvious.

In your mind, it wasn’t your fingers anymore.

You imagined K’s pretty, steady fingers curling inside you instead, his sweet voice murmuring your name like it was something sacred while he watched you fall apart on him. Then, how Nicholas’s thick cock would replace them, pounding into you loud enough that the headboard would slam against the wall and everyone would hear. Ej’s gentle praise whispering “good girl, just like that” as he slowly worked you open. Fuma’s heavy stare burned into you while he held your legs apart and made you take it, just like in the image you had seen on his phone. 

The fantasy consumed you completely. Letting out hushed whines and moans of their names, the sounds turned louder, breathier, desperate. “Nngh— yes— fuck—” The wet sounds grew even filthier as you chased your release, hips rocking back onto your fingers, lost in the fantasy of all four of them using you.

So deep in your thoughts… You didn’t hear the front door open again.

You didn’t hear the quiet footsteps stopping right outside your room.

But Nicholas heard everything, 

And now… He had seen everything, too.

Your door hadn’t latched properly when you’d pushed it shut with your foot. It had left open just a few inches—just enough for the dim hallway light to spill in and just enough for anyone standing there to see you clearly. Fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat.

And Nicholas was standing there.

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, that signature lazy smirk slowly curling on his lips. His eyes were dark, hungry, drinking in the sight of you on your stomach with your ass in the air, hoodie ridden up around your waist, two fingers buried deep in your dripping pussy while you fucked yourself desperately. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched intently—watched the way your hips rocked back onto your fingers, watched the way your thighs trembled, watched the way your moans grew louder and more broken with every thrust.

When you cried out again—a loud, shameless “Fuck— I’m gonna cum..Nghh—” Nicholas finally let out a low, rough chuckle.

“Jesus Christ, short stuff…”

Your entire body jolted at the sound of his voice.

Panic exploded through you like ice water.

Your fingers froze mid-thrust, eyes flying open. In your rush to hide, you scrambled frantically, trying to yank your finger out of your dripping sex, pull the hoodie down, and pull the covers over you at the same time—limbs tangled, heart slamming against your ribs so hard you could hear it ringing in your ears.

You tumbled off the bed in a clumsy heap, landing hard on the floor with a startled yelp. “Ouch—oh my god ow!” The oversized hoodie rode up even higher as you hit the ground, exposing the curve of your ass and the slick shine on your thighs. Your legs were still trembling from how close you’d been, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

Nicholas’s chuckle turned into a full, low laugh — warm, amused, and way too pleased.

“Shit, baby,” he grinned, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Didn’t mean to make you fall. Though… the view from here is even better.”

He leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, silver chain glinting as he looked down at you sprawled on the floor — hoodie bunched uselessly around your waist, thighs shiny with your own arousal, face burning with humiliation.

Your voice came out shaky and small, cracking with panic.

“N-Nicholas… I—you—oh god—the door wasn’t—I thought no one was home—”

He tilted his head, that lazy, cocky smirk widening as he watched you try to cover yourself with trembling hands. “Oh, I know what you thought,” he drawled, voice low and dripping with amusement. “You thought you were all alone… sooo you could moan our names nice and loud while you fucked yourself stupid. Is that right?”

He took one slow step closer, eyes dragging shamelessly over your exposed body. 

“Fuck, short stuff. You were really going for it. ‘I’m gonna cum’—loud as hell. Bet the neighbors heard that one.”

Your face burned hotter than it ever had in your life. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Your pussy was still throbbing painfully, right on the edge and now completely denied, making everything ten times worse. 

“I’m so sorry—No one's shoes were by the door, and I assumed you guys were not gonna be home for atleast awhil–Oh my god, please don’t tell the others.” You tried to continue, but you paused as Nicholas crouched down slightly, resting his forearms on his knees so he could look at you more closely. His smirk softened into something almost fond, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

You tried to scramble back, heart pounding, but before you could get anywhere, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping tight around your ankle. With one firm yank, he dragged you across the carpet toward him. A startled squeak tore from your throat as the oversized hoodie rode up even higher, bunching uselessly around your ribs and leaving you completely bare from the waist down.

“Shh. Don’t move,” he ordered, voice dropping into that dangerous register that made your pussy clench despite the panic. He crouched lower, free hand sliding up your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your dripping folds. “Look at this messy little cunt… still twitching, still so fucking wet. You really were right there, huh? Poor thing.”

You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he easily shoved your knees apart with one powerful thigh, pinning you open. The size difference hit you hard—his broad frame looming over your much smaller one made you feel tiny and helpless.

“Nicholas—wait, I—”

“I’m so sorry,” he mocked in a soft, syrupy voice, repeating your exact words back to you with a lazy grin. “No one’s shoes were by the door… assumed we weren’t gonna be home for a while…”

His thumb finally pressed against your swollen clit, rubbing slow, firm circles that made your hips twitch involuntarily. Another trickle of slick slipped out of you, and Nicholas’s eyes flicked down to watch it with dark satisfaction. “Oh my god, please don’t tell the others,” he continued in that same mocking tone, voice dropping even lower as he leaned in closer. “That’s what you were gonna say, right, short stuff? Begging me not to tell while your greedy little pussy is dripping all over the floor.”

You shook your head frantically, tears of humiliation stinging your eyes. “I didn’t mean— I thought I was alone—”

“Mhm, so you thought no one was around… that’s why you were crying out our names while you played with that pretty pussy like you were in heat?”

“Loud enough that I heard you from the hallway. ‘Fuck—I’m gonna cum…’ Fuck, baby. You sounded so desperate.”

Your body twitched again under his slow, deliberate touch, another broken sob slipping past your lips as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. The mix of sharp pleasure and deep humiliation made your head spin, your smaller frame trembling helplessly on the floor.

Without thinking, your hips bucked up into his hand — a small, subconscious roll that pushed your swollen clit harder against his thumb and drove his thick fingers a right above the entrance of your dripping heat, teasing the slick folds without pushing inside.

Nicholas’s low chuckle rumbled again, darker this time, as he watched your hips betray you with that small, needy buck.

“Oh?” His voice came out soft and mocking, dripping with that same fake sympathy he had used when stealing your food that morning. “You want more, pretty girl?”

“Fine,” he said, voice dropping into something rougher, meaner. “I’ll give you more.”

Before you could even process the words, his hand flew to your hair, fingers tangling tight in the strands at the back of your head. He yanked you up off the floor with surprising strength, making you cry out as your scalp stung. Your smaller body was pulled upright in one swift motion, legs shaky and unsteady beneath you.

You barely had time to stumble before he spun you around and shoved you forward, bending you roughly over the edge of your bed. The oversized hoodie rode up your back as your chest and stomach pressed into the mattress, ass forced high in the air and legs spread wide by his knee kicking between them.

Your face burned against the sheets, fresh tears soaking into the fabric as humiliation flooded you again. The position left you completely exposed—pussy dripping, clit still throbbing, ass presented like an offering.

Nicholas kept one hand fisted in your hair, holding your head down against the bed while his other hand immediately returned between your thighs. No more teasing at the entrance this time.

He shoved two thick fingers deep inside you in one smooth thrust, burying them to the knuckles. The sudden stretch made you gasp sharply, your walls clenching hard around the intrusion.

“Thereeeee we go,” he growled, voice low and satisfied as he started pumping his fingers faster now — still not frantic, but deeper, harder, curling them relentlessly against that perfect spot with every stroke. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers.

 “Fuck… that’s better, isn’t it? Greedy lil’ cunt sucking my fingers so deep. Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dragging over your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your pussy clenched greedily around his fingers. “Crying and apologizing… but you’re sucking my fingers in like you never want me to stop. Such a pathetic little slut.”

He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, bringing them up to smear your own slick across your cheeks before pushing them past your lips and into your mouth. You let out a choked sob as you attempt to swallow around his long digits. He watched you with a satisfied smirk, slowly fucking his fingers in and out of your mouth while his other hand stayed tangled in your hair, keeping you pinned down.

“Taste how wet you got for me,” he growled softly, watching your teary eyes as you instinctively sucked them clean. “Yeahhh, Good girl. But my fingers aren’t gonna be enough anymore, are they, baby?”

Nicholas didn’t even bother straightening up behind you, one hand still fisted in your hair to keep your face pressed into the mattress as he used the other hand to tug off his belt—letting the leather slide free and fall onto the floor with a sharp, metallic clink that caused you to jolt slightly; the noise ringing in your ears. 

The sound of his zipper coming down followed, too loud in the quiet room. You felt the heat of his body shift slightly as he freed his cock, the thick, heavy length slapping against your ass cheek once before he gripped it at the base. He teased your swollen clit with it, slapping the sensitive bud lightly—once, twice—making your hips jerk and a fresh sob tear from your throat.

“Shhh, don’t fight it,” he cooed mockingly, pressing the blunt tip against your entrance. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

You shook your head frantically, tears soaking into the sheets, but the movement only made him laugh—low, dark, and far too pleased. His broad chest stayed pressed to your back, one large hand still fisted tight in your hair to keep your face pinned down while the other guided his cock towards your entrance.

“Liar,” he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “You left the door cracked open like a desperate little invitation. Moaning our names loud enough for me to hear every filthy word…and now this tiny cunt is dripping down my cock like it’s starving for it.”

Then he pushed forward.

The thick head stretched you open slowly, forcing your tight walls to part around his girth. The burn was immediate and overwhelming, but so delicious—he was so much bigger than his fingers, so much thicker than you could handle in this position. A broken cry ripped from your throat as he sank in deeper, inch by relentless inch, until his hips finally met your ass and he bottomed out completely. But he didn’t give you time to adjust—beginning to thrust with slow heavy rolls, punching the air from your lungs with each deep stroke. 

The filthy, wet slap of skin on skin echoed louder with every movement. His hips slamming against your ass with a rough, punishing force. The impact jolting your small frame forward with each thrust. He kept you pinned exactly how he wanted: face down, ass up, smaller body folded beneath his much larger one like you weighed nothing. “Fuuuck,” Nicholas groaned, “You feel so good. Can barley move… Fuckk tight cunt taking me so well.” 

His hips rolled in deep, heavy thrusts that drug the air from out of your lungs with each movement. The wet, filthy slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, growing louder and more obscene with every punishing stroke. 

Nicholas showed you no mercy, keeping one hand fisted tight in your hair as he pressed your cheek firmly into the sheets. 

The sound of your cunt was downright filthy—It made you cringe through tears.

Wet, lewd squelching noises echoed with every thrust as his thick cock plunged in and out of your soaked hole. Each time he bottomed out, a messy, obscene schlick-schlick-schlick filled the air—your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs, making the slide even wetter, even louder. 

“Shittttt…pretty girl… listen to how wet you are,” he laughed breathlessly, the sound almost mocking. “This greedy little pussy is dripping down my balls. You’ve been dying for cock, huh?” 

The slick sounds mixed with the sharp slap of his hips meeting your ass, creating a filthy rhythm that left no room for denial.

He suddenly pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head stretching your hole, before slamming back in with one brutal thrust. The force ripped a broken sob from your throat as your walls clenched violently around him. You shook violently, breathing becoming rapid as you sobbed into the sheets, coating the pink fabric in a different type of wetness.

Nicholas groaned loudly as he felt your pussy flutter and spasm around his cock—grinding his hips deep so you could feel every inch of him buried inside you. He leaned down closer, broad chest now pressing fully against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he fucked you with slow, punishing rolls.

“God, you are such a lil’ slut. Pretty cunt keeps sucking me in. Juju’s gonna lose his fucking mind. He’s been sniffing your panties like a pervert for weeks. k’s been worse though, so patient with you…leavin’ the door open when he jerks off to see if you’d break… and fuma? He’s been waiting to see how pretty you cry when you’re stuffed full,” he whispered, voice dripping with cruel amusement—hand slipping underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it tight, mean circles that made your thighs shake uncontrollably, slapped your clit lightly, making you jolt and cry out, then did it again harder.

“You gonna let them take turns with this sloppy little hole after I’m done with it?” 

The words hit you like ice water.

Your breath caught in a sharp, broken sob. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, soaking into the already ruined sheets. Your mind spun, a dizzying mix of shame, fear, and unwanted heat flooding your body all at once. 

The thought of them taking turns—passing you around like a toy and using your aching, dripping cunt one after another—twisted your stomach with shame… and made your cunt clench hard around Nicholas’s cock despite the shame coursing through you

You shook your head frantically, the movement limited by his tight grip in your hair.

“N-no… please—” your voice came out in small, cracked, and pathetic moan, the sound barely more than a whimper. “I can’t… not all of them… please, Nicholas—”

Your cries only egged him on; he began to thrust faster and harder, the bed creaking loudly beneath you. You could hear how he laughed—low, dark, yet delighted amongst the creaks and wet obscene sounds of your bodies together.

“It’s okay, pretty” he cooed mockingly, voice rough. “Right now—” He tightened his grip in your hair and yanked your head back just enough to growl against your ear, “This cunt is mine.” He pulls you back even further—grip on your hair forcing your back into an arch as he pounded into you. The new angle making his cock hit that sensitive spot with every thrust, ripping broken sobs and whimpers from your throat. Your smaller body jolted forward with each punishing snap of his hips.

You had already been so close.

Before he walked in, you’d been frantically fingering yourself—fingers pumping in and out of you; deep. hips rocking your swollen clit desperately aganist the palm of your hand as you chased your release. Their names slipping from your lips like a filthy prayer, amongst the soft squelches of your needy cunt.

You had been right on the edge, right there… and then he caught you.

And now that denied orgasm was coming crashing back ten times stronger. Fueled by every savage thrust of his thick cock and every dirty word that fell from his mouth—coated with a nasty edge.

Nicholas could feel it—the way your cunt gripped at his cock, sucking it deeper with each time he pulled out only to thrust into you again with brutal force. “Ohhh, there it is,” he taunted, “You gonna cum? Yea? You were so fucking close before, weren’t you, pretty girl?” his voice dripped with mockery, “Moaning ‘Juju… K… Fuma…’ like a little slut. You wanted to fuck your new roomies that bad, yea?” he cooed, as your pathetic sobs already had began morphing into desperate, breathy moans.

The words sent another humiliating wave of heat through you. Your mind screamed no, begged even— but your body did not listen to. it instead betrayed you completely. Your cunt gushed even wetter, the lewd sounds growing louder as he pounded into you without mercy. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, your clit throbbing under his relentless fingers, your entire body shaking as you teetered right on the edge.

You tried to hold back. You really did. You told yourself that if you could just resist a little longer, maybe you could hold onto some shred of your dignity. But the combination of his thick cock stretching you open, the brutal pace, the sharp slaps to your swollen clit, and the overwhelming shame of his words was too much. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train—harder and more intense than anything you’d ever felt before.

Your back arched into his stomach—a broken, sobbing cry tearing from your throat as your walls spasmed violently. Overwhelming pleasure erupted through you in blinding waves. Your vision blurred with tears and your mind went white, eyes rolling back. Your pussy gushed slick around him, soaking his cock and dripping down your thighs in messy rivulets while your body shook uncontrollably.

Nicholas groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he fucked you through every intense spasm. “Fuuuck— that’s it. Cum on my cock, pretty little slut. Look at you… making such a fucking mess.” He kept thrusting through your orgasm, drawing out every last shake of your body until you were whimpering and twitching from the overstimulation, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

He kept pounding you until he felt his climax approaching—only then did he pull out.

With a rough groan, Nicholas yanked his heavy length free, leaving your cunt gaping and leaking. He gripped the base of his thick, glistening length and stroked it fast and hard right above your trembling body.

“Fuuuuuck—gonna cum all over you, baby.” His hips jerked. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splattering across your back and ass in messy white streaks. Some landed on the curve of your spine, even a few drops landing on your swollen, twitching pussy. The warm stickiness coating your bare skin—Milking every last drop until you were thoroughly marked with him.

Nicholas exhaled shakily, a satisfied smirk curling on his lips as he looked down at your ruined state — tear-streaked face, hoodie bunched uselessly around your ribs, swollen pussy still twitching and dripping.

He leaned down, brushing damp hair from your forehead with surprising gentleness.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured, voice low and dark. “First one down.”

He pressed one last mocking kiss to your temple before standing up, tucking himself back into his pants. “Rest up, short stuff.” Nicholas gave your ass one final, possessive slap before he walked toward the door, leaving you sprawled on the bed—exhausted, leaking, and utterly used.

Nicholas didn’t tell anyone. 

Well, not that you knew of.

You woke to the familiar scent of matcha waiting on the counter and EJ greeting you with that same soft, boy-like smile as he pushing his glasses up his nose and slid the mug toward you. “Morning, y/n.”

K stood nearby, sipping at his americano, giving you his usual gentle smile when you entered. 

Nicholas wandered in a few minutes later, shirtless as usual, silver chain glinting against his chest. He leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs with that signature lazy smirk.

“Morning, short stuff,” he drawled, voice perfectly casual, like he hadn’t spent last night wrecking you until you passed out on his cock.

He didn’t wink. He didn’t smirk knowingly. He didn’t say a single word about what happened.

He just stole another bite, earning the usual gentle scolding from EJ, and acted like nothing had changed. Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, quietly playing on his Switch. His dark gaze flicked to you for a second longer than usual, but he as usual he gave you a nod—’Good morning.” falling from his lips.

The whole morning felt… normal. Far too normal.

You sat there in your sleep shorts and hoodie, thighs still faintly sore, pussy still tender and aching from how roughly Nicholas had used you. Every shift in your seat reminded you of the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy sounds your pussy had made, the way you’d sobbed and came so hard you blacked out.

Yet none of them acted any different.

It was almost worse than if they had said something.

You kept waiting for the shoe to drop. For Nicholas to make a comment. For one of them to look at you differently. But the day passed in the same careful rhythm as before.

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perm taglist: @blueuijoo @yeonyeonbun @jun1perf1nch17 @cheolscherries1812 @likeyuma @ikigaijo @0wisewisdoom @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @rubyidk @vickiluvsjo @snowzxki @ampiesworld

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authors note: after the long wait, its finally here!! i decided to split it into 4 chapters because each smut scene is relatively long. i also don't wanna accidentally burn myself out.. i start school soon hehe. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. apologies for any mistakes, i tend to write roommate wanted at like 2-6am! i'm working on ej's chapter now—the wait shouldn't be too long. don't worry~ if u see things change in this its bc when i get bored i reread my fics n edit them!!

[crdteezv]

Oh this best fic I've read in a minuteeeeee 🤭

[n1conekoz]

&team headcanons how they like to sleep with their partner

notes: hiii this is my first post!! im looking for luné moots and friends <3 im still working on my profile but my basic info is there. i hope you like this and id love to read your comments and thoughts about it. you can also send a request if you want 🫶

pairing: ot9 x reader

tags/warnings: just fluff, bf!teamies, slightly suggestive at yuma and harua

wc: about 150-200 each member

K

definitely loves to hug you from behind. he will burrow his face in your hair and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest firmly pressed against your back. will probably talk to you about his day in that position, his voice soft and low against your ear slowly making you sleepy. i feel like he moves a lot during the night tho, so it's not surprising to find him in a messy position in the morning; half of his body hanging off the bed, blanket all tangled up around him and hair sticking in all directions. just the cutest sight ever.

he likes to cuddle and kiss a lot in the morning before getting off the bed. if he wakes up earlier than you, he will end up accidentally waking you up from kissing your face too much.

Fuma

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

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

Nicholas

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

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

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

Euijoo

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

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

Yuma

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

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

Jo

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

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

Taki

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

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

Harua

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

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

Maki

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

loves when you try to wake him up with little kisses. he fakes being asleep until he can't hold in his smile anymore and ends up dragging you back into his arms to shower you with kisses instead. he stretches out so big he almost throws you off the bed everytime, only to giggle and give you the most attractive "good morning, love..." with a little accent. loves to stay in bed with you so much he will usually run late to his schedules.

[smidare]

K x reader where he’s been so busy with all his schedules that he’s lowkey been neglecting his poor gf and because of that she constantly has an attitude towards him that he has to fix

hear me out on this one pleaseee

yummy kei meal, n i will feed u nonie~

【 18+ 】 tw ──── soft dom!k . . kissing, petnames, oral ( f. rec ), bratty reader. don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

you slammed the apartment door a little harder than necessary when you got home from work, the sound echoing through the quiet space. k was already there before you—for once—sprawled on the couch in a black hoodie and sweats, scrolling through his phone like the last three weeks of almost radio silence hadn’t happened. schedules, promotions, flights, rehearsals. you understood it. you really did. but understanding didn’t stop the ache of going to bed alone every night or rolling over and waking up to the other side of the bed being just as cold as it was when you went to sleep that night.

he looked up, face softening as it landed on you. “hey, baby.”

you didn’t answer, just kicked off your shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, jaw tight. the attitude had been building for days—short texts from you, one-word replies, the way you turned your face when he tried to kiss you goodnight on the rare occasion he made it home before you were asleep.

k sighed, setting his phone down. he followed you, tall frame filling the doorway as you poured yourself a glass of water that you didn’t even really want.

“alright,” he said, voice low and calm. “what’s with the attitude tonight?”

you scoffed, turning to face him. “attitude?”

his jaw flexed. he hated when you got like this—bratty, sharp, pushing him away even though you both knew you missed him more than anything. but he also knew he deserved it.

you tried to brush past him but his long fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist—pulling you back until your back hit the counter. his lean body caged you in, one hand braced beside you, the other tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze.

“i get it,” he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip. “i’ve been neglecting you. let me make it up to you, hm?”

the shift in his tone—low, velvet, promising—sent heat straight between your legs. you tried to hold onto the irritation, keep up the act but it was already cracking.

“m still mad…”

he leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “i know, baby. you’ve been giving me that look for days. mouthy. pouty. like you want me to put you in your place.” his hand slid down your side, gripping your hip and pulling you flush against him. you could already feel how hard he was. “maybe i should, hm?”

you opened your mouth to snap back, but before the words could leave your mouth—he kissed you—deep, hungry, weeks of pent-up need pouring out. his tongue swept in, claiming, and you melted despite yourself, fingers fisting the soft fabric of his hoodie. he lifted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing, stepping between your thighs and grinding against you slowly.

“missed this pretty pussy,” he growled against your mouth, hand slipping under your skirt to cup you through your damp panties. “so wet already. allll that attitude and you’re still dripping for me.”

you whimpered as he pushed your panties aside, two long fingers dipping into you without any warning. he curled them perfectly, as always. k was perfect at everything, which made being mad at him just that hard. his fingers filled you so well, tips pushing against that spot that made your eyes roll back while his thumb circled your clit.

“yu—fuck—”

“that’s right. say my name, pretty girl.” he pumped his fingers faster, mouth on your neck, sucking a mark you knew you’d have to cover tomorrow. not that you minded. “you’re mine. been neglecting what’s mine. won’t happen again.”

he pulled his finger out of you with a wet squelch before dropping to his knees right there in the kitchen, yanking your panties down and burying his face between your thighs. his tongue was relentless—lapping, sucking, fucking into you while he held your legs open. you cried out, fingers tangled in his freshly dyed brown hair, hips rocking against his mouth as the tension you’d been carrying finally snapped. he didn’t stop until you came hard, thighs shaking around his head.

when he stood back up, lips shiny with you, he looked feral—hands fumbling with the waist band of his sweats before freeing his cock—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. he was quick to push you back, lifting your leg over his shoulder as he rubbed his length against your slick folds.

“gonna fuck the attitude right out of you, baby.” © smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

[crdteezv]

holy shit im obsessed with this 🤭

[smidare]

hii! if ur inbox isn’t too full do you think you could write for euijoo where we’re sobbing and all upset one day, so he just fucks us to calm us down! and ofc it works <3

soft juju sex for da win, writing this healed something in me ..

【 18+ 】 tw ──── soft!ej . . soft sex, p in v, creampie, reader is cries, petnames.   don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

the front door clicked shut behind euijoo, and he froze in the entryway at the sound of your broken sobs coming from the bedroom. his bag dropped to the floor. in seconds he was there, kneeling beside the bed where you were curled up, face buried in a tear-soaked pillow.

“baby…” his voice was soft, worried. long fingers brushed your damp hair back. “what happened?”

you couldn’t even answer, just shook your head and cried harder. everything had gone wrong today—too much, too heavy—and the weight of it had crushed you.

euijoo didn’t push. he simply climbed onto the bed, tugging you forward and into his arms. he held you tight against his chest. his heartbeat was steady under your wet cheek. but the sobs didn't seem to end, they just kept coming, ragged and uncontrollable, and he hated it. hated seeing you like this.

his hand slid down your back, slow and soothing at first, then lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt. warm palms stroked bare skin. “shh… let me take care of you,” he whispered against your temple. “let me make it quiet for a little while.”

you nodded, desperate for anything that would stop the spiral.

he kissed your wet cheeks, your swollen eyes, the corner of your trembling mouth. clothes came off without hurry—his hoodie, your pants, until it was just skin on skin. euijoo was already half-hard just from the feel of you clinging to him, but he took his time, spreading you open gently with careful fingers, murmuring praise the whole time.

“so pretty even when you’re crying…breathe for me, yeah?”

when he finally pushed inside you, slow and deep, your breath hitched. the stretch of his length burned sweetly, grounding you. he stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, letting you adjust to his size.

then he started moving—long, steady rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. not rough, not frantic. just deep and relentless, like he was fucking the sadness out of you.

each thrust punched little sobs out of you, but they were different now. needier. pleasured.

“that’s it,” he breathed, voice low and husky against your ear. “let it all go. just feel me.”

your nails dug into his back as he angled deeper, pelvis grinding against your clit with every thrust. tears kept falling, mixed with gasps and whimpers. the overwhelming ache in your chest slowly melted into fuzzy pleasure.

euijoo’s hand slipped between you, thumb circling your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. “come on, baby. cum for me. i’ve got you.”

the orgasm hit hard, ripping through you like a wave. you cried out, clenching around him, body shaking as everything—every worry, every hurt—shattered and washed away. euijoo followed right after, burying himself deep with a soft groan, filling you with warmth.

he didn’t pull out right away. just collapsed over you, careful not to crush you, pressing lazy kisses along your neck while you both caught your breath.

the room was quiet now except for your slowing pants.

“better?” he asked softly, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead.

you nodded, boneless and hazy, the storm had finally quieted. even if it was just for a bit.

euijoo smiled, small and tender, and kissed the last tear from your cheek. “good. i’ll stay right here as long as you need.”

© smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

[smidare]

【 18+ 】 tw ──── mean dom!ej . . dubcon, bratty n kinda mean reader (dw jju fixes that real quick), unprotected p in v, making out, petnames, oral ( m. rec ), jju calls reader a bitch, finger fucking, light choking, hair pulling.  don't copy/translate my work. i only write on tumblr.

ej had always been your safe place.

soft-spoken, gentle-eyed, the kind of best friend who showed up with your favorite snacks after a bad day and never once raised his voice. he let you rant, let you cry, let you be messy. he took it all with that warm little smile and a hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

you push the door shut a little harder than you mean to, the slam echoing in the quiet of his apartment. another day had chewed you up and spit you out—sharp words from strangers at work, the weight of everything the day had brought pressing on your ribs—the way ej had texted you complaining about his members—it all filled you up only to spill over the second you walked in. you take it out on him. because he’s there. because he’s always there, soft-eyed euijoo with his gentle hands that wipes away your tears and that smile that makes the world feel a lot less cruel.

“you’re such a fucking pushover,” you snap, kicking off your shoes, voice brittle as glass. “always letting people walk all over you. maybe if you weren’t so nice all the time they would listen—”

he doesn’t answer right away. just watches you from the couch, elbows on his knees, that usual kindness flickering like a candle in the wind. but something shifts behind his eyes. darkens. you feel it in your stomach before he even moves.

then he stands.

slow. deliberate. the kind of slowness that coils tight in your chest.

“you done?” he asked, voice low, almost sweet. almost. gone was the soft ej. this one had dark eyes and a cruel tilt to his mouth. “you’ve been so bitchy all week,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “taking your shit out on me like i’m your fucking punching bag. i let you, because i love you. but tonight?” his grip tightens, just a fraction.

"tonight i’m done letting you.”

you laugh, mean and sharp, because you’re frustrated and he’s safe enough that to take whatever you give. “what, you gonna do something about it? big soft jju finally growing a spine?”

he crosses the room in three strides. his hand finds your jaw, fingers pressing just enough to tilt your face up. no more gentle. his thumb drags across your lower lip, rough, and your breath catches like a hook in your throat.

“you’ve been a bitch all night,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “taking your shit out on me like i’m your fucking punching bag. i let you, because i love you. but tonight?” his grip tightens, just a fraction.

“tonight i’m done letting you.”

your heart stutters. heat floods low in your belly, unwanted and undeniable. he’s always been the safe one. the one who holds you when you cry, who makes tea and strokes your hair. but this— this euijoo is not the one you used to pushed around—this one has teeth. teeth that aren't afraid to bite.

he walks you backward until your spine hits the wall, cool plaster against your heated skin. his mouth crashes into yours, not soft, not kind—hungry. claiming. tongue sliding in like he owns the space behind your teeth. you bite back on instinct and he growls, low in his chest. in response he shoves his thigh between your legs, pressing right against your core. knee pressing hard against your covered clit, until you gasp into his mouth. you tried to glare, still riding the wave of your attitude. “get off me, ej—”

he laughed, short and mean. a noise you had never heard escape the sweet man. it made a shiver go down your spine. 

“mm, wrong answer.”

in one rough motion he spun you around, chest pressed to the wall, yanking your wrists behind your back and pinning them with one large hand. his other hand shoved your skirt up over your hips and ripped your panties down your thighs. 

“you’ve been a fucking brat all night,” he growled against your ear, teeth scraping your neck. “taking your shit out on me like i’m your punching bag. i let you get away with too much, huh?”

you whimpered when two thick fingers grazed your cunt before pushing inside you without any sort of warning, curling meanly against that spot that made your knees buckle.

“oh fuck off— shit, e-ej—” the words fracture halfway out, cracked open by the way his fingers curl cruelly inside you, dragging over that spot that makes your vision fuzzy.

“shut up.”

his voice is low, almost gentle, but it lands like a door slamming. he pumps faster, thicker, two fingers stretching you open while his thumb grinds mean circles against your swollen clit. relentless. wet sounds fill the space between you — filthy, slick, echoing the frantic beat of your heart against the wall.

“you don’t get to talk back anymore,” he growls against your ear, teeth scraping the sensitive skin just below it. “you’re gonna take what i give you until that attitude’s fucked out of you.”

sudden.

he pulls his fingers out.

the loss hits like cold air. you whine before you can stop yourself, hips chasing empty space. he laughs again—that short, mean sound that doesn’t belong to your soft jju—and spins you back around. your back hits the wall once more, breath punched out of you. his eyes are almost black now, pupils blown wide with something new. something hungry.

“on your knees.”

you hesitate half a second too long.

his hand fists in your hair, tugging just hard enough to sting. guiding. not asking. you sink down, carpet rough against your bare knees, and he frees himself with the other hand—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. the sight of it makes your mouth water even as your mind claws for the last scraps of your bratty armor.

“open.”

you do. slow. defiant even now. he doesn’t wait. slides deep in one smooth thrust, hitting the back of your throat and holding there while your eyes water.

“fuuck—good girl,” he groans, hips twitching. “look at you. so pretty when you’re quiet. choking on my cock instead of being a brat.”

he fucks your mouth in measured strokes at first, savoring the way your throat flutters around him, the way tears slip down your cheeks and ruin your mascara. every time you gag he pushes a little deeper, thumb brushing your cheek almost tenderly. the contrast wrecks you. soft touch. cruel rhythm. your safe place cracking open to show the teeth underneath.

when he finally pulls out you’re gasping, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. he hauls you up like you weigh nothing, tosses you onto the couch on your stomach. your face presses into the cushions that still smell like him—like vanilla and the laundry detergent he always uses—and then he’s behind you again.

no more waiting.

he slams in with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. the stretch burns so good your vision whites. legs twitching and shaking as broken moan rips from you, raw and needy. he doesn’t even give you time to adjust to his length. hips snapping forward, skin slapping skin, the couch creaking beneath you like it might give out.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, one hand fisting your hair again, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints. “to push me until i stop being nice? until i fuck the bitch right out of you?”

each thrust punches the air from your lungs. long, dragging strokes that grind against that spot inside you until your thighs shake violently. you can’t think. can’t snap back. can only take it—take him—while the pressure builds and builds.

he leans down, chest to your back, teeth grazing your ear.

“say it,” he demands, voice dropping softer but no less mean. “say you’re sorry for treating me like your emotional trash can.”

you bite your lip until it draws the tiniest bit of blood. stubborn, yet trembling.

he slows. grinds deep. cruel little circles that make you sob.

“say it,” he repeats, lips brushing your temple like a lover, “or i pull out and leave you empty and aching for the rest of the night.”

the threat coils tight in your belly. tears spill hot down your face.

“nghh m' sorry—” your voice cracks, small and shattered. “jju—euijoo, i’m sorry, please—”

“thereee she is.”

he rewards you instantly. pace turning punishing again, hand slipping under you to rub tight, mean circles on your clit. the orgasm hits hard and violent, leaving you clenching around him so hard he curses low and filthy. he fucks you through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking and oversensitive—still whispering broken apologies into the cushions.

only then does he let himself go. burying deep with a groan that vibrates through your bones, filling you in hot pulses that mark you from the inside. claiming.

for a long moment the only sound is your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the fridge. then his arms wrap around you—gentle again. he pulls you against his chest as he collapses onto the couch. his fingers trace slow, soothing patterns over the bruises he left on your hips. lips pressing soft kisses to your damp temple.

“next time you want to be mouthy, let me know. i’ll just fuck it right out of you, hm?”

you curl into him, spent and aching and finally quiet. the storm inside your ribs has blown itself out. all that’s left is the steady beat of his heart under your cheek and the quiet knowledge that your sweet jju can be cruel when he needs to be.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers into your hair, voice back to that familiar warmth, cracked open just enough to let the love bleed through. “even when you bite. especially then.”

© smidare 2026ㅤ ❤︎ㅤ likes & reposts r appreciated!

authors note: mean dom jju i love u so bad...i love writing him all mean..i knowwwww i just know he has a mean side.. nsfw taglist: @ikigaijo @blueuijoo @0wisewisdoom @d3adg1rlie @yudaism @sh1n3-4h4na @starlOstt @yeonyeonbun @vickiluvsjo @ampiesworld @rubyidk @maytaurus20 @whoisgwyn  @simplyscrewed @meowieshibal @zzniya @1014b @deerhuntings @tokunodoll @crushonfuma @enha-crumbs @zucchini-thepowerfull

[crdteezv]

mean ej 🙃 ate this uppppp