💭word count : 300 soft ej / rough ej thoughts, established relationship, back shots, unprotected (that’s a no no!), cream pie, manhandling, slight deception/manipulation (?), size kink, stomach bulge, degradation.
do i look gentle? i’m actually : very rough
ej is the kind of person who looks as soft as a marshmallow on the outside, coated in thick sugar, a pillowy swirl of pastel. if you were to take a bite, you’d be hit with an overpowering sugar rush.
day-to-day life feels more like babying and nursing his innocent, clueless mind. every step around him had to be a tip toe, as to not disturb his clueless mind. one mistake triggered a million questions. he was the kind of soft boyfriend that every friend adored. the simplest, most precious puppy. the sweetness of his personality gave you cavities, mind fuzzed and dazed by his innocence, the pureness clung to him before any perfume could.
all these endearing thoughts broke in your first night together. the man who used to make you a warm glass of milk before bed now drove your head into the mattress, not a gentle push into the sheets. a hard drive that smeared your makeup across the sheets. a length that stretched your hole until tears fell down your cheeks, rough, merciless pounds that hit more painfully than pleasurable. his hips snapped against yours, diving deeper into your dripping pussy until his base smacked your ass in a loud crack.
his hands fisted your hair like they were mere sheets, pulling until thin strands tangled into his sweaty palms. breaths that choked at of you, moans muffled into the mattress. every rut hit the air out of your lungs, his cock pounded through your stomach, bulging through the skin. headboard slamming against the thin walls, bed creaking with the force of his ruts.
he laughed at the pathetic mess you had made over him every night, cursing under his breath, filling your cunt to the brim. his own whimpers and groans buzzed through your ringing ears, numbing your thoughts until all that filled you was the size of his dick.
💭word count : 300 soft ej / rough ej thoughts, established relationship, back shots, unprotected (that’s a no no!), cream pie, manhandling, slight deception/manipulation (?), size kink, stomach bulge, degradation.
do i look gentle? i’m actually : very rough
ej is the kind of person who looks as soft as a marshmallow on the outside, coated in thick sugar, a pillowy swirl of pastel. if you were to take a bite, you’d be hit with an overpowering sugar rush.
day-to-day life feels more like babying and nursing his innocent, clueless mind. every step around him had to be a tip toe, as to not disturb his clueless mind. one mistake triggered a million questions. he was the kind of soft boyfriend that every friend adored. the simplest, most precious puppy. the sweetness of his personality gave you cavities, mind fuzzed and dazed by his innocence, the pureness clung to him before any perfume could.
all these endearing thoughts broke in your first night together. the man who used to make you a warm glass of milk before bed now drove your head into the mattress, not a gentle push into the sheets. a hard drive that smeared your makeup across the sheets. a length that stretched your hole until tears fell down your cheeks, rough, merciless pounds that hit more painfully than pleasurable. his hips snapped against yours, diving deeper into your dripping pussy until his base smacked your ass in a loud crack.
his hands fisted your hair like they were mere sheets, pulling until thin strands tangled into his sweaty palms. breaths that choked at of you, moans muffled into the mattress. every rut hit the air out of your lungs, his cock pounded through your stomach, bulging through the skin. headboard slamming against the thin walls, bed creaking with the force of his ruts.
he laughed at the pathetic mess you had made over him every night, cursing under his breath, filling your cunt to the brim. his own whimpers and groans buzzed through your ringing ears, numbing your thoughts until all that filled you was the size of his dick.
you make money, get to do the job you've always wanted, and most of all, have an obedient little secretary.
ej was perfect, he listened to anything you said, did his job correctly and well, and loved working for you. on top of that, he was adorable.
people were intimidated by him due to his extremely tall stature, however he was nothing but a ball of sunshine inside.
like i mentioned earlier, he's extremely obedient. he'd do anything for you. it seemed as if he worshipped you. so what would happen if you pushed the limits a little? asking for more and more suggestive things over time?
it got to a point where you sent a suction vibrator straight to his apartment door, making him scramble to pick it up all because it had your name on it. when he opened it, euijoo blushed furiously.
what were you thinking? was this a mistake? he thought that all until he read the note that the secretive packaging came with.
"send me proof of you trying it out."
he stared in shock for a brief moment, before recollecting his thoughts and deciding to atleast look presentable before recording something for his master- i mean, boss.
with his phone set up and angled correctly, ej hits record, starting to use the toy. he felt so humiliated and pathetic, like a beginner camboy with barely any viewers because he just wasn't good enough for people to watch.
but oh boy, was that the opposite. you loved it of course. so much so you wanted your own private, real life show of his use of the toy.
------------------
hehehheheheheh first fake sub audio in months fake sub taki will be missed! sorry if the pitching sounds weird....... it sounds too much like juju, minus the original pitch!
Hi Sev! I love your fics and I was just wondering how long you have been writing? Also, do you have any tips for a new writer? Thanks 💖
hello, anonie!
I'm happy that you like my fics. I'm actually new, about 2 months. i was inspired by a few writers in this app, so i began to make mine, even tough my english is bad... ಥ_ಥ
about tips... i don't really know... but definitely you need to be more confidence. if you're confident about yourself, i believe your write will be better. well... that's what i know for now, I'm a new writer too, and I'm still learning.
Miya speak ! : I had a hard time finding an audio for nicho (･ั﹏･ั) and this is the closest i got (´ . .̫ . `) I'm sorry if this isn't sounds like him (ᗒᗩᗕ) anyway happy nicho day !!
hii I loved your charm trap and vulnerable like I swear ur writing actually eats so hard like I love it sm you hv no idea and this is actually my first time sending a request so I’m lowkey kinda nervous and I’m not quite sure how to go about it but like,, I can’t stop thinking abt teasing juju till he snaps and seeing his reaction and like punishment after or smth, like just dom juju w a kinda bratty reader if that makes sense and I feel like I’m rambling a lot but yes anyway tysm and I can’t wait to see what you write or push out next !!
hello, anonie ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*
first, I'm so sorry for this late response, i was so busy that i barely remember this account. im glad that you like my write, also this is my first request too. i hope you like this fics and enjoy it-! (^^)
＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 𝙎𝙒𝙄𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙊𝙉 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊
𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: bf! euijoo x f!reader
𝓽𝔀!: 𝙢𝙙𝙣𝙞!, brat!reader, spanking, oral, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, orgasm denied.
The apartment was too quiet.
In the late afternoon, the sun cast long, amber slants of light across the hardwood floor of the living room, illuminating tiny, dancing motes of dust in the air. Byun Euijoo’s apartment—no, their apartment, because they had shared this space for two years now—was in a state of absolute, sterile perfection.
You sat on the edge of the plush gray sofa, your chin resting heavily in the palm of your hand, staring blankly at the opposite wall.
Usually, there was something to do. A mountain of college assignments to conquer, a messy kitchen counter to scrub, a pile of laundry to fold. But today, the universe had conspired to leave you entirely, brutally free. Your essays were submitted; the apartment was so clean it practically gleamed; the novel on your nightstand had been finished last night, and you hadn't had the chance to buy a new one; even the television, with its endless catalog of streaming shows, felt incredibly flat.
You let out a long, dramatic groan, letting your body slide down the cushions until your head hung off the edge of the sofa, staring at the ceiling upside down.
"I am going to die of terminal boredom," you muttered to the empty room.
Then, the soft, distinct click of the digital lock at the front door echoed through the hallway.
Your ears perked up instantly. Like a predator catching the scent of its favorite prey, your boredom evaporated, replaced by a sudden, wicked spark of mischief.
"I'm home," a voice called out.
It was a beautiful voice—quiet, rich, and naturally gentle. Euijoo stepped into the entryway, sliding his shoes off with his usual neat precision. He looked slightly disheveled, the top button of his dress shirt undone, his dark hair falling softly over his forehead. He had had a long, exhausting day at his office internship, his shoulders carrying the faint slump of fatigue. Yet, the moment his eyes found you sprawling dramatically on the couch, his lips curved into that familiar, patient smile.
He walked over, his steps light on the floor, and leaned down. He didn't say a word about your ridiculous posture. Instead, he simply brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your skin.
"Did you have a good day, babe?" he murmured, his voice a warm hum.
You peered up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you took in his gentle expression. This was Euijoo. Always calm. Always understanding. In the two years you had lived together, you had never once heard him raise his voice. He was a deep, tranquil well of patience—a stark, almost comical contrast to your chaotic, attention-seeking nature. You loved to push him. You loved to tease, prod, and poke at his boundaries just to see how far they would stretch before he finally let out one of his trademark, long-suffering sighs.
Usually, that sigh was your cue of victory. Once you got him to sigh and shake his head with that fond, exasperated look, you would laugh, kiss his cheek, and behave.
But today... today, the boredom had left a restless, itchy sensation under your skin. Looking at his pristine, gentle demeanor, a sudden, dark urge flared within you. You didn't just want a sigh today. You wanted more. You wanted to crack that perfect, unbothered exterior. You wanted to see what lay beneath the saintly patience of Byun Euijoo.
"I was bored," you pouted, reaching up to tug lightly on his tie. "But now you're here."
Euijoo chuckled, a soft sound in his chest, and gently pat your cheek. "I'm going to take a shower first, alright? I feel dusty from the commute. Wait for me."
"Okay," you whispered, a slow, cat-like grin spreading across your face. "I'll wait in the bedroom."
As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut and the sound of rushing water filled the apartment, you sprang into action.
You walked into the bedroom, bypassing your usual oversized t-shirts and soft pajama pants. Instead, you opened the bottom drawer of the dresser, rummaging through the silk and lace until your fingers brushed against a specific piece of fabric.
It was a white satin nightgown. It was short—skimming just below your hips—with a low-cut back and delicate lace detailing along the bust. The material was incredibly smooth, clinging to your curves in a way that left very little to the imagination. You slid it on, shivering slightly as the cool satin met your warm skin, and climbed onto the bed.
You propped yourself up against the pillows, posing with a calculated air of innocence, though your eyes were fixed hungrily on the master bathroom door.
After what felt like an eternity, the sound of the shower died down. A few moments later, the door clicked open, and a wave of warm, eucalyptus-scented steam billowed into the bedroom.
And then, Euijoo stepped out.
You stopped breathing.
He was drying his hair with a small white towel, his dark locks damp and messy, sticking up in endearing tufts. But your gaze quickly traveled downward, and any thoughts of "endearing" vanished. He wasn't wearing clothes. A single, large white towel was wrapped precariously low around his waist, hanging dangerously off his prominent hip bones.
His chest was bare, glistening with stray droplets of water that slowly rolled down the defined, lean planes of his torso. Euijoo wasn't overly bulky, but he possessed a deceptively athletic, broad-shouldered frame—the kind of body built from years of quiet discipline. His collarbones were sharp, his chest broad, and his abdominal muscles cut a beautiful, shadow-draped pattern in the dim light of the bedroom.
He was a masterpiece. A quiet, breathtaking work of art.
You stared. You stared so long and so hard that you didn't even realize you were biting your lower lip until Euijoo stopped drying his hair, lowering the towel to look at you.
He blinked, taking in your attire—the white satin nightgown that barely covered you, your flushed cheeks, and the intense, hungry look in your eyes. He let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head.
"(y/n)?" he called out, his voice laced with amusement. "Babe? Are you staring?"
You didn't answer. Slowly, like a siren drawn to water, you slid off the bed. Your bare feet made no sound on the carpet as you crossed the distance between you, your eyes never leaving his.
When you reached him, the scent of his body wash—fresh, clean, and masculine—wrapped around your senses. You reached out, your fingertips trembling slightly as you pressed your palms flat against his broad, damp shoulders. The skin was warm, a delicious contrast to the cool air of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hands down, feeling the firm muscles of his chest, the heavy, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.
Euijoo’s breath hitched. His hands, still holding the small hair towel, tensed.
"Babe," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a warning tone that was still entirely too gentle. "I'm really tired today. It was a long day at the office."
He was rejecting you. Gently, of course, because he was Euijoo.
But you weren't going to accept that. The rejection only fueled the stubborn, restless fire inside you. You leaned closer, your body brushing against his, the thin satin of your nightgown doing absolutely nothing to block the heat radiating from his skin. You tilted your head up, your eyes wide, glittering with a deliberate, heavy sensacy.
"Just a little bit, Ju," you purred, your hands sliding down to trace the sharp lines of his ribs, your thumbs brushing dangerously close to the waistband of his towel. "I'll do all the work. You just have to lie there."
Euijoo swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He reached down, his large, warm hands wrapping around your wrists, stopping your wandering fingers.
"No," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You have a nine a.m. lecture tomorrow, remember? You need to sleep."
You frowned. Of course he knew your schedule. He always did. He kept track of your classes, your exams, your life, always looking out for you like the perfect, responsible partner he was.
But right now, his perfection was driving you insane. You didn't want the responsible Euijoo. You wanted the man behind the mask. You wanted to hear him lose his breath, to see him lose control. You wanted him ferocious, wild, untamed.
"I don't care about my lecture," you whispered, your voice turning sharp, laced with a sudden, daring defiance.
Before he could respond, you planted your hands firmly on his chest and shoved him.
Euijoo, caught off guard by your sudden burst of strength, stumbled backward. His back hit the wooden door of the wardrobe with a solid, muffled thud.
Before he could recover, you lunged forward. You grabbed his face with both hands, tilting his head down, and crashed your lips against his.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hot, messy, and demanding—a physical manifestation of all the pent-up boredom and frustration you had carried all afternoon. You forced your tongue past his lips, tasting the minty freshness of his toothpaste and the deep, intoxicating heat of his mouth. You kissed him like you wanted to consume him, your body pressing flat against his, pinning him to the wardrobe.
Euijoo went entirely rigid. His hands hovered in the air for a fraction of a second before slowly landing on your shoulders. You felt his fingers twitch, preparing to gently, firmly push you away to lecture you about boundaries and sleep.
‘Oh no, you don't,’ you thought.
Knowing this was your only chance to break him, you played your final card.
While your mouth continued to feast on his, your right hand slid down, past his ribs, past his hip bone, and deliberately slipped beneath the loose fold of the towel wrapped around his waist. Your fingers searched in the dark until they wrapped around his thick, fully engorged length.
"Mmmgh-!"
A deep, strangled gasp broke from Euijoo’s throat, vibrating directly into your mouth. His entire body shuddered, his muscles tightening like steel cords under your touch.
You pulled back from the kiss, a triumphant, wicked smirk playing on your swollen lips. You looked down, your hand slowly, rhythmically stroking the thick, pulsing heat of him.
"Oh, my..." you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Look at this, Euijoo. You say no with your mouth, but your body... your body is such a liar, sweetheart."
You squeezed him gently, running your thumb over the crown of his length, feeling the bead of pre-cum that had already gathered there.
Euijoo’s eyes were squeezed shut. His head was tilted back against the wardrobe door, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles stood out in sharp relief. He bit his lower lip, a low, pained groan escaping his nose as he tried to battle the sheer pleasure your hand was inflicting on him.
"B-babe..." he choked out, his voice trembling, a desperate plea hidden beneath the strain.
"You smell so good," you ignored his plea, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
You inhaled deeply, the scent of his clean skin and the heat of his arousal dizzying your senses. You pressed hot, wet kisses along his collarbone, your tongue licking a path up his throat before you found a particularly sensitive spot right below his ear. You sucked on the skin, a soft, deliberate session, your hand continuing its torturous, slow stroking down below.
"(y/n)... please," Euijoo gasped, his hands on your shoulders tightening, his nails digging slightly into your skin. "Don't... you know I'm trying to hold back—"
"Then don't," you whispered against his skin, your teeth lightly grazing his earlobe. "Stop holding back, Ju. Show me."
In an instant, the air in the room shifted.
The quiet, patient, gentle boyfriend you knew vanished, swallowed whole by a sudden, terrifyingly dark aura.
Before you could even register the change, Euijoo’s hands gripped your waist. His grip was so tight, so sudden, that you let out a small gasp. With a display of raw, effortless strength that made your stomach flip, he lifted you off your feet. You felt completely weightless, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried you across the room in three large, aggressive strides.
He didn't lay you down gently.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, keeping you lay on your stomach onto his lap. His face was dark, his eyes narrowed into twin slits of pure, unadulterated lust and a dangerous flicker of anger.
Before you could utter a single word, Euijoo reached down, grabbed the hem of your white satin nightgown, and yanked it up to your waist, bunching the fabric around your ribs. Your lower half was exposed, save for the thin lace panty you wore.
Without a word, Euijoo hooked his fingers into the side strap of your underwear. With one powerful, impatient tug, the delicate fabric tore with a sharp rip, exposing your dripping, swollen slit to the cool air of the room.
SLAP!
A sharp, stinging pain exploded across your left buttock.
"Ah!" you screamed, your body jerking violently, your hands clutching your bed cover for dear life. The sound of the slap had been incredibly loud in the quiet room, echoing like a whip crack.
"E-Euijoo..." you gasped, your eyes wide with shock, looking at him.
"Quiet," Euijoo said, his voice incredibly quiet, but it carried a razor-sharp, chilling edge that made a shiver of fear—and intense arousal—run straight down your spine. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted to push me."
SLAP!
"Ah-!"
Another strike landed, this time on the right side, even harder than the first. The pain was immediate, a deep, throbbing heat that made your breath catch in your throat.
"I just came home from a twelve-hour shift," Euijoo growled, his hand hovering over your reddening skin. "And instead of letting me rest, you decide to act like a brat. A needy, misbehaving brat."
SLAP!
You let out a broken whimper, your head falling to the bed. Your heart was hammering against your ribs. You had always known Euijoo was strong, but you had never imagined him using that strength like this. This wasn't the gentle spanking of a playful lover; he was genuinely punishing you, channeling all his pent-up stress and the frustration of your constant teasing into every strike.
"You've been testing my patience for weeks," Euijoo continued, his voice low and dangerous as he stared down at your blushing, trembling thighs. "Always teasing, always running your mouth, thinking I would just smile and let it go. You wanted to see what happens when I stop being nice, right?"
SLAP!
"Ngh! Please, Ju..." you cried out, your fingers digging into his back. The skin of your bottom was burning, fully flushed a deep, beautiful pink.
"Look at you," Euijoo whispered, his voice suddenly shifting into a dark, mocking tone.
He slid his hand down, his long, thick fingers brushing against the highly sensitive folds betweenyour thighs. The moment his fingers made contact, he let out a dark, mocking chuckle. Your slit was drenched, completely flooded with thick, slippery moisture that coated his hand instantly.
"I barely slap you a few times, and you're already dripping like a faucet? Such a masochist little slut," he murmured, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clitoris, making you twitch on his lap.
"No, I-I'm not—"
"Shut up."
Without any warning, Euijoo shoved two of his long fingers deep into your tight, soaking wet channel.
"Ahhh!" you screamed, your back arching.
He didn't give you time to adjust. He immediately began to pump his fingers inside you with a brutal, relentless speed. He wasn't being gentle; he was thrusting deep, his fingers hitting your G-spot over and over again, while his thumb kept up a punishing, heavy friction on your clitoris.
The pleasure was overwhelming, too fast, too intense. Your head spun as you clung to his neck, your hips helplessly rolling against his hand, chasing the friction.
Your internal walls began to contract violently, a massive, crushing wave of an orgasm building rapidly in your lower abdomen. You could feel it, the sweet, explosive release just a second away.
But right as you were about to cross the threshold, Euijoo abruptly ripped his fingers out of you.
The sudden loss of friction felt like a physical shock. Your body convulsed in frustration, your breath caught in your throat, your orgasm suspended in a torturous, agonizing limbo.
SLAP!
He smacked your throbbing bottom once more, hard enough to make you sob.
"You want to come?" Euijoo sneered, his eyes dark and merciless. "Not that fast, brat. I haven't given you permission."
Before you could protest, Euijoo gripped your hips and threw you backward onto the bed.
You landed heavily on your back, your hair splaying across the sheets. Before you could even try to sit up, Euijoo crawled over you. He grabbed your ankles, pushing your knees all the way up to your shoulders, forcing your legs wide open.
Your wet, pink, and glistening pussy was fully exposed to his gaze, trembling and leaking fluid onto the sheets.
Your eyes were swimming with tears of frustration, your chest heaving as you looked up at him. "E-Euijoo... please... I need to... please let me come..." you sobbed, your voice breaking.
"No," Euijoo said, his face cold, though his breathing was heavy. "Bad girls don't get what they want. You need to learn how to wait."
He reached out and, with a sudden, humiliating slap, he struck your bare, sensitive breast.
Plak!
"Ah!" you gasped, a fresh tear escaping your eye. The pain was sharp, but the sheer degradation of it sent a jolt of raw electricity straight to your brain, making your dripping slit clench even tighter.
"Oh, look at you..." Euijoo murmured, his expression softening into something incredibly twisted and sweet. He leaned down, his thumb gently wiping away the tear rolling down your cheek. "You look so beautiful when you cry, sweetheart. Should I make you cry some more?"
Without waiting for an answer, his hand slid down. He didn't penetrate you this time. Instead, he pinched your swollen clitoris between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it back and forth with a slow, agonizing pressure.
"Ngh! Ah! Ju, stop, please... it's too much..." you thrashed against his grip, but his other hand was pinning your thighs down, rendering you completely helpless.
Your walls were twitching, contracting around nothing, desperately seeking the fullness of his length to satisfy the itch deep inside your womb. Euijoo watched your helpless struggle, a dark, pleased smirk on his lips.
"What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice low and teasing. "You wanted me to be rough. You wanted me to lose control. Why are you begging me to stop now?"
You could only shake your head frantically, your hands clutching the sheets. The denial of your orgasm was turning into a literal torture, making every nerve ending in your body hypersensitive.
"Euijoo, please... I'll be good... I swear I'll be good... just let me come..." you pleaded, sob-deshed.
He stared down at you for a long moment, his thumb slowing down on your clitoris, letting the tension build to an unbearable point.
"Do you really want to come that badly?" he asked softly.
"Yes... please... ahh-"
he suddenly press his thumb against your clitoris, combined with a sudden, deep thrust of his two fingers back into your wetness, your body finally snapped.
You shrieked, your entire body spasming violently as a massive, overwhelming orgasm ripped through you. Your vision went white as your fluids squirted out, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your chest rising and falling as you tried to find your breath.
But as your orgasm began to fade, you heard Euijoo let out a low, dangerous hum.
"Oh..." he whispered, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I don't remember giving you permission to come, (y/n). You really are a disobedient little thing, aren't you?"
Your heart leaped into your throat. You knew that tone.
You were in so much trouble.
Euijoo didn't give you a single second to recover.
With a rough tug, he stripped the remaining white satin nightgown over your head, leaving you completely naked and shivering on the bed. He then reached down to his waist, unknotting the towel and tossing it aside.
Your eyes widened as you stared at his erection. It was massive, fully engorged, the thick veins pulsing along the shaft, the tip dark red and leaking heavy drops of pre-cum.
Before you could think, Euijoo reached out, grabbed a handful of your hair, and yanked you toward the edge of the bed. He forced you down onto your knees on the floor, while he stood right in front of you.
"Open up," he commanded, his voice cold.
When you hesitated for a fraction of a second, his grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back so you had to look up at him. He raised his free hand and delivered a sharp slap to your cheek.
Plak!
"No teeth, baby. You know the rules," he whispered.
You swallowed your whimpers, opening your mouth wide. Euijoo didn't wait. He guided his thick, throbbing length to your lips and shoved it inside.
"Mmmgh-!"
The sheer size of him filled your oral cavity completely, his tip pushing directly against the back of your throat. You choked, your hands desperately grasping his thighs as your eyes watered.
Euijoo let out a deep, guttural growl of satisfaction. He didn't let you dictate the pace. Holding your head firmly by your hair, he began to thrust his hips forward, forcing his thick shaft in and out of your mouth in a brutal, rhythmic pace.
Gag. Gag.
You couldn't breathe. Every time he thrust deep, your throat convulsed, tears streaming down your face, wetting his lower abdomen. You tapped his thigh frantically, begging for a break, but Euijoo was completely gone, consumed by the raw power of having you entirely at his mercy.
"Ah... your throat, baby... so tight... so warm..." he groaned, his head tilted back as he increased the speed, his hips slapping against your chin.
He face-fucked you relentlessly, pushing you to your absolute limit until your vision began to blur and spotty. Only when he felt you truly turning limp did he finally pull out with a wet, heavy gasp.
You collapsed on the floor, coughing violently, desperate chestfuls of air rushing into your lungs as saliva mixed with pre-cum ran down your chin.
But Euijoo wasn't done. He grabbed your arms, hauling your weak body back onto the bed, throwing you onto your back. He grabbed your ankles and lifted your legs high in the air, holding them up with his left hand.
He stared down at your swollen, dripping slit.
"This pussy needs to be taught a proper lesson," he murmured.
SLAP!
He smacked your wet pussy.
"Ahhhh!" you shrieked, the sting of the slap on your highly sensitized clitoris making you sob openly. "Euijoo, please! No more! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"I told you, you started this," Euijoo said, his voice entirely devoid of his usual warmth. "So you have to take it."
He let go of your ankles, letting your legs fall wide open. He crawled between your thighs, his thick, heavy chest pressing down on yours. He grabbed his erection, rubing the wet, pre-cum covered tip against your sensitive clitoris, teasing you with light, agonizing slaps of his shaft.
"Do you want this cock so badly, you slut?" he whispered in your ear.
"Yes... yes, please, Euijoo... give it to me..."
"Ask nicely."
"Please, Master... put it in... please..." you begged, completely broken.
Euijoo smiled—a dark, victorious smile.
With one heavy, merciless drive of his hips, he buried his entire length inside you.
The Rock and the Storm
"NGHAAAA-!"
You screamed, your fingers clawing at the headboard. The entry was incredibly tight, stretching you to your absolute limit. You tried to push his shoulders away, trying to create some space because he was too deep, too heavy.
But Euijoo was like a solid rock, entirely unbothered by your weak struggles. He didn't back out. Instead, he leaned all his weight into you, grinding his pelvis hard against yours, forcing himself even deeper until his pubic bone crashed against yours.
You sobbed, your body shaking as another wave of intense, overwhelming pleasure began to build immediately. Your walls were squeezing him so tightly, trying to cope with the sheer volume of him inside you.
Euijoo looked down at your flat stomach. Because of how thin you were, and how deeply he was buried inside you, you could actually see the distinct, terrifying bulge of his shaft stretching the skin of your lower abdomen.
He let out a low, proud chuckle. He reached down and pressed his fingers directly against that bulge, pushing it.
"Ngh! Ah! Oh god-!"
"Look at this, sweetheart," Euijoo whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Your tight little pussy is struggling so much to hold me. You're stretched so wide."
He pressed the bulge again, and the internal friction was so intense that your body instantly short-circuited. You screamed, your legs locking around his waist as you fell into another violent orgasm, your walls pulsing around him like a vice grip.
"Another one?" Euijoo asked, tilting his head with a mock expression of disappointment, though his eyes were blazing with heat. "You really can't control yourself, can you?"
"No... no, please—ah!"
Euijoo didn't let you rest. The moment your orgasm began to subside, he started to move.
And he moved fast.
"Since you love coming so much without my permission, I'm going to make sure you come until you can't even stand," he growled.
He pinned both of your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip like iron. With his other hand, he gripped your hip, digging his fingers deep into your flesh, securing you in place.
Then, he began to slamming into you.
The pace was brutal. He was thrusting with a savage, animalistic rhythm, his hips crashing against yours with deafening, wet slaps. Every thrust was deep, raw, and heavy. He was completely driving you crazy, his body working yours like a machine.
He leaned down, crashing his mouth against yours. He didn't kiss you gently. He shoved his tongue deep into your mouth, tangling it with yours, swallowing your loud, broken moans and sucking the very air from your lungs. You were completely consumed, unable to breathe, unable to think, only able to feel the relentless, heavy stretching of his cock inside you.
His hand moved from your wrists down to your breasts, grabbing one of them and squeezing it with a rough, bruising force. He pulled his mouth away from yours, burying his face in your chest. He bit, licked, and sucked on your collarbones and breasts, leaving deep, dark purple marks all over your skin, all while his lower half continued its relentless assault.
The contrast was mind-blowing. This was Euijoo. The boy who made you tea when you had cramps, the boy who gently tucked you in at night, the boy who never raised his voice.
And now, he was completely destroying you, his face flushed, his eyes wild, treating your body like his personal playground. The sheer turn-on of seeing him like this sent your arousal skyrocketing to dangerous heights.
You felt another orgasm building, even more powerful than the last ones.
Euijoo felt the sudden, tight clenching of your walls. He pulled his head up, his dark hair damp with sweat, looking down at your messy, beautiful face.
"Want to come again, baby?" he pant, his voice incredibly husky.
You could only nod weakly, your lips parted as you let out broken, incoherent whimpers. Your eyes were glossy, completely lost in the pleasure.
Seeing you completely ruined under him, Euijoo let go of all restraint. He increased the pace even more, his thrusts becoming short, sharp, and incredibly fast.
"Ah! Ah! Ju! Euijoo! Ahh!"
"Sshit... you're so tight... (y/n)..." Euijoo groaned, his jaw clenching as your walls squeezed him with an agonizing grip.
With three more powerful, deep drives that shoved your head against the headboard, both of you reached the edge.
You screamed, your body arching off the bed as a massive, screaming orgasm ripped through you, your fluids squirting out onto his stomach. A split second later, Euijoo let out a loud, guttural roar. He thrust one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and unleashed a massive, burning torrent of his seed deep inside your womb.
He held himself there, his body twitching as he poured wave after wave of hot semen inside you, filling you to the brim.
Eventually, his strength gave out, and Euijoo collapsed heavily on top of you.
Both of your chests were heaving, the sound of your rapid, tangled breathing the only noise in the room. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and spilled fluids.
After a few minutes of quiet recovery, Euijoo slowly pushed himself up. He looked down, pulling his semi-erect length out of you with a wet 'schlich'.
He smirked, a soft, incredibly satisfied look on his face as he looked at your red, leaking, abused pusyy, your trembling thighs, and the countless dark marks covering your neck, chest, and shoulders. You looked completely claimed. Anyone who saw you would know exactly who you belonged to.
Without a word, Euijoo slid down to lie beside you.
He pulled you close, slipping your arm under his head as a pillow, and pulled the thick blanket over both of your naked, sticky bodies. He snuggled close, burying his face directly into your chest, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.
To your surprise, he opened his mouth and gently latched onto your nipple, sucking on it with a soft, slow rhythm, like a quiet baby seeking comfort after a long storm.
You let out a weak, exhausted chuckle. The contrast was back. The beast had gone back to sleep, and your gentle, sweet Euijoo had returned.
You shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and ran your fingers through his soft, damp hair, brushing it back from his forehead. You held him close, letting him suckle on your breast, until the heavy weight of sleep finally dragged both of you down into a deep, peaceful slumber.
that's it anonie, i hope i didn't break your expectations (^з^)-☆Chu!!
❤︎⠀⠀your daddy owes money to the yixiang family, when he disappears—you become collateral to wang yixiang who's taken over his fathers business.
•⠀ masterlist 𓋰 💬 mafia!nicholas x collateral!reader ─── ᛫ dead dove do not eat, dubcon, noncon elements, slight stockhome syndrome, manipulation, co-dependency, unprotected p in v, creampie, face fucking, finger fucking, oral (m. rec), hair pulling. ✶ word count. 5691
( a/n ) this was for a paid req on my ko-fi n i finallyyy finished it >< i was having such writers block n couldnt think of how to continue scenes without making it 10k words lolol so the pacing is off (which i hate..) but i hope u all enjoy it !
the rain had been falling for three days straight, the kind of cold, relentless downpour that seeped into your bones and made the already cramped apartment feel even smaller. you were twenty-three, but most days you still felt like a ghost in your own life—shy to the point of invisibility, the girl who apologized when someone else stepped on your foot, who kept your head down at the little bookstore where you worked part-time shelving novels you could never afford to buy. your world was small, quiet, and safe only because you never asked for more.
your father had never been warm, but he had been there. until he wasn’t.
you came home that tuesday to an empty closet, missing cash from the tin under the sink, and a single crumpled note on the kitchen table in his sloppy handwriting:
kid,
debt’s too big. i’m done. you’ll manage. don’t look for me.
no “i love you.” no explanation. just the faint smell of his cheap cigarettes and the echo of a door slamming somewhere you couldn’t follow.
you sank to the floor right there in your work clothes, the cheap polyester of your blouse sticking to your skin, and cried until your throat hurt. you had no close friends to call. no savings. the landlord’s number was already lighting up your cracked phone screen.
the first collection call came two days later. you stammered that your father was gone. the voice on the other end went silent, then laughed once, low and ugly, before hanging up.
you didn’t know they were already watching.
it was the fifth night when the knock came—sharp, three raps that rattled the thin door.
you were in an oversized t-shirt and soft shorts, hair still damp from a lukewarm shower, curled on the couch with a library book you couldn’t focus on. your heart jumped into your throat. another knock, louder.
“open the door. we know you’re in there.”
you crept forward on bare feet and peered through the peephole.
three men stood in the hallway. the one in front was tall, broad through the shoulders, dressed in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled once at the forearms. sharp jaw. dark, assessing eyes. a faint scar along the inside of his elbow. he looked expensive and lethal all at once. beautiful features that still held that scary sharpness, his presence filled the cheap hallway like he owned the building.
wang yixiang.
you didn’t open it.
the lock gave way with a splintering crack. you stumbled backward with a small, terrified sound as the three men stepped inside. the two flanking him moved like they’d done this a hundred times—efficient, unhurried. one checked the bedroom. the other stayed by the door.
nicholas’s gaze swept the tiny living room, then landed on you. something shifted in his expression. not surprise exactly. interest. possession, already forming.
“wang yixiang,” he said, voice low and smooth with the faintest trace of an accent. “your father owes the wang family a significant sum. where is he?”
your back hit the wall. your arms wrapped around your middle instinctively. “h-he’s not here. he left. days ago. i—i don’t know where he went. please, i don’t have anything to do with—”
the searcher returned from the bedroom. “cleaned out. nothing of value except her.”
nicholas stepped closer. you flinched hard. he stopped, head tilting slightly as he studied the way you trembled.
“then the debt transfers,” he said calmly. “family pays what family owes. you’re coming with us. collateral.”
“no—!” the word tore out of you, high and panicked. “i don’t have money! i work at a bookstore, i barely make rent! he left me here! he doesn’t care—”
“doesn’t matter.” nicholas nodded once to the men. “take her. gently. she’s not to be damaged.”
you fought. weakly, because you had never learned how to fight. one of the men caught your wrists and zip-tied them in front of you with surprising care not to cut skin. a soft black cloth bag slipped over your head. you whimpered.
“don’t scream,” nicholas murmured near your ear. his voice was almost kind. “it won’t change anything. and i don’t enjoy hurting pretty things that don’t deserve it.”
the car ride was long and silent except for your quiet, hitching sobs. leather seats. the faint scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something darker, expensive. you could feel him beside you in the back seat, the heat of his thigh not quite touching yours.
when the bag came off, you were standing in a large bedroom inside what looked like a private estate on the outskirts of the city. high ceilings, dark polished wood, a massive bed with crisp white sheets, an attached bathroom. the windows were reinforced. the door had a heavy deadbolt on the outside.
“this is where you’ll stay,” nicholas said from the doorway, hands in his pockets like this was a business transaction. “food will be brought three times a day. if you need anything—books, clothes, whatever—tell the guard outside. behave, and you’ll be comfortable. fight, and…” he shrugged one shoulder. “comfort becomes optional.”
tears spilled hot down your cheeks. “why are you doing this? i’m innocent. i didn’t even know how much he owed—”
“in this world, innocence is a liability.” his eyes flicked over you—your bare legs, the way your tied hands trembled against your stomach, the wide, wet eyes you couldn’t hide. “your father made his choices. you get to live with them.”
he left. the lock clicked.
you curled into a ball on the bed and cried yourself hoarse.
the first week passed in a strange, suspended haze.
meals arrived on trays—proper food, better than anything you could have made. the silent guard never spoke. you tried once. he stared through you like you were already furniture.
you explored the room. there were books on the shelf—classics, some chinese poetry, a few modern thrillers. a television with cable but no streaming, no internet. the bathroom had soft towels and expensive soap that smelled like the cologne nicholas wore.
on the third day he returned.
he entered without knocking, closed the door, and pulled the single armchair closer to the bed before sitting. black shirt again. the tattoo on his forearm was visible now—a stylized dragon coiled around a sword. wang family mark, you would later learn.
you sat on the edge of the mattress, knees pulled to your chest, watching him like he might lunge.
“how are you settling?” he asked, conversational.
“i’m a prisoner,” you whispered.
“you’re protected collateral.” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “do you know how much your father owed us?”
you shook your head.
“enough that even if you worked every day for the rest of your life at that little bookstore, you’d never clear the interest.” his voice was matter-of-fact. “we reached out through every channel. he’s gone. no response. no attempt to bargain for you.”
the words landed like stones in your stomach. fresh tears welled. you tried to hide them, but he saw.
“crying won’t bring him back,” nicholas said, softer. “but here, at least, no one will touch you unless i allow it. the wang family has rules. you’re under my personal supervision now.”
“why?” the question slipped out before you could stop it.
he studied you for a long moment. “because when i walked into that apartment and saw you—trembling, alone, trying so hard to be brave—i decided you were mine to handle. the others wanted to auction you off or use you to send a message. i said no.” a small, almost fond curve touched his mouth. “consider it mercy.”
mercy. from the man who had zip-tied your wrists and locked you in a gilded cage.
by day seven you had started counting the hours between his visits.
when he didn’t come on day five and six, the guard simply said “boss busy” and left your tray. you paced. you read the same page of a book three times. you stared at the ceiling and wondered if anyone had even noticed you were gone. your job had already replaced you—some chirpy text from your manager about “no call, no show.” no one else had texted.
on day eight nicholas returned carrying a book.
he set it on the bed beside you. “thought you might like this one. girl finds her strength in a place she never expected.”
your fingers brushed his when you took it. you yanked your hand back like you’d been burned, cheeks flaming. “thank you.”
he watched the blush spread across your face with open fascination. “you’re still polite. even now. most people in your position would be spitting curses.”
“i’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “yelling won’t change anything.”
“smart girl.” he reached out slowly, giving you time to flinch, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingertips were calloused but careful. “the world outside these walls would have eaten you alive, you know. shy little thing like you, no connections, no money. at least here you’re fed. protected.”
funny. protected by the man who kidnapped you.
you didn’t say it. you couldn’t. because some broken, lonely part of you was starting to understand what he meant.
he sat on the edge of the bed this time, closer than before. “the wang family has been in this city for three generations. my grandfather started with one gambling den and a knife. built it into import businesses, clubs, protection. debt collection is just one arm. we don’t like loose ends.” his eyes met yours. “your father was a loose end. you… you’re something else.”
your heart was beating too fast. “what am i?”
he smiled, small and sharp. “mine.”
the rain kept falling.
by the middle of week two, the pattern had settled into something that almost felt like routine. nicholas visited almost every evening. sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for nearly an hour. he would pull the armchair close to the bed or sit on the edge of the mattress and talk to you like you were a person instead of a debt that needed guarding.
he told you more about the wang family in pieces. his grandfather had started with nothing but a single gambling den in the old district and a willingness to use a knife when collections went bad. his father had turned it into something bigger—import businesses that moved everything from electronics to things that never appeared on manifests, a handful of high-end clubs that laundered money and hosted men who liked to pretend they were legitimate. debt collection was still the ugly heart of it. nicholas spoke about it without apology, but you noticed the way his jaw tightened when he mentioned his father.
“he expects me to be the same kind of man he is,” nicholas said one night, voice low. “ruthless. efficient. no loose ends. when i told him i was keeping you here instead of selling you or making an example, he laughed. said i was getting soft.” his eyes flicked up at the ceiling and then to you. “maybe i am.”
you didn’t know what to say to that. so you stayed quiet, knees drawn up, watching him from the safety of the pillows. he didn’t push.
on another night he asked about your father. you told him the truth in small, halting pieces—how your mother had left when you were twelve, how your father had started drinking more, how the gambling had gotten worse in the last two years. how you had spent most of your life trying to be small enough that he wouldn’t notice you, wouldn’t get angry.
nicholas listened without interrupting. when you finished, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the same careful gesture he’d used before.
“he left you with nothing,” he said quietly. “and still you’re trying to defend him in your head. that’s the part i don’t understand about people like you.”
you looked down at your hands. “i don’t know how to stop.”
“you will,” he answered. “eventually.”
by the end of week two you had started counting the hours until his visits the way you used to count the minutes until your shift at the bookstore ended. when he missed one evening because of “business,” the guard outside your door simply said “boss busy” and left your tray. you paced. you read the same paragraph four times. you caught yourself listening for footsteps in the hallway like a stray dog waiting for its owner.
when he finally came the next night you almost smiled before you could stop yourself.
he noticed.
“you missed me,” he said. it wasn’t a question.
you flushed and looked away. “it’s just… quiet when you’re not here.”
nicholas didn’t tease. he simply sat on the bed closer than usual and let the silence stretch until you filled it. you told him about the underlings you sometimes heard through the door—rough voices, laughter that didn’t sound kind, the occasional sound of something heavy being dragged. you admitted, voice small, that it scared you.
for a long moment he didn’t speak. he simply watched you with those dark, assessing eyes, the ones that always seemed to see too much. then he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture so careful it made your chest ache.
“mm…they should scare you,” he said finally, voice low and even. “most of them enjoy fear. they like the way it makes people small and obedient. but they won’t touch you.” his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, thumb resting over your pulse. “i made that very clear. the first one who forgets who you belong to will lose more than his tongue.”
you shivered. not entirely from the words.
nicholas noticed. of course he did. he always noticed.
“saw that you almost smiled when i walked in tonight,” he continued, quieter now. “you caught yourself, but i saw it. you were relieved.” he didn’t sound mocking. he sounded… pleased. like he had been waiting for this exact crack in your walls.
he let the words hang between you for a moment, watching the way your shoulders drew tighter, the way your fingers twisted harder into the fabric of your shirt.
then he moved closer on the bed, not asking, simply closing the last bit of space until his thigh pressed solidly against yours and his arm settled around your back. his hand found the nape of your neck again, thumb resting over your pulse like he was taking measure of how fast it was racing.
you didn’t pull away. that was the part that made your stomach twist the most.
nicholas’s fingers stroked slowly along the side of your throat, almost absentminded, like he was soothing something skittish. “relief is a dangerous thing,” he said quietly. “it means you’re starting to separate me from the rest of them. from the men who laugh in the hallway. from the ones who would have already broken you open and thrown the pieces away.” his thumb pressed a little firmer against your pulse. “it means some part of you has already decided i’m the safer option. and you hate that, don’t you?”
you stayed quiet, staring at your own hands. the silence felt heavier than it should have.
shame crawled hot under your skin, thick and suffocating. you hated how easily your body had stopped fighting his closeness. how your shoulders had loosened the second his arm came around you. how some exhausted, traitorous part of you had actually leaned into the warmth of his chest instead of pulling away.
you had spent your whole life trying to be small enough to survive—first with your father, then with the world that had never wanted you—and now here you were, letting the man who had taken you by force and locked you in this room stroke your throat like you were something he was gentling.
it made you feel sick. it made you feel pathetic. and worst of all, it made something small and desperate inside you whisper that at least when he was here, the fear was quieter. at least when he touched you, you weren’t completely alone.
you hated yourself for that thought more than anything else.
nicholas watched you for another long moment, thumb still resting over your pulse like he could feel every shameful beat. then he stood. the loss of his warmth was immediate and jarring. you hated that too.
he reached down and patted the top of your head—once, twice—the way someone might soothe a well-behaved pet. the gesture was gentle. it was also deeply condescending. his fingers lingered in your hair for a second longer than necessary before he spoke.
“i’ll be leaving for a few days,” he said, voice calm and even, like he was discussing the weather. “business in another city. my father wants me to handle something in person. i won’t be able to visit while i’m gone.”
the words landed like ice water.
your head snapped up before you could stop it. the panic was instant and humiliating, rising fast in your chest. a few days. he had missed nights before because of “business,” but he had always come back the next evening or the one after.
this felt different. longer. more final. the thought of waking up in this room without the possibility of his footsteps in the hallway, without his low voice filling the silence, without the careful weight of his hand on your neck—it made something crack open inside you that you didn’t want to examine.
you opened your mouth, then closed it again. you didn’t know what you had been about to say. please don’t? how long is a few days? what if something happens while you’re gone? the questions were pathetic. you were pathetic for even thinking them.
nicholas saw it all. the way your eyes widened. the way your hands twisted tighter in your shirt. the way your breathing had gone shallow. he didn’t smile, but something satisfied flickered behind his eyes.
“you’re panicking,” he observed, almost gently. “interesting.”
you looked away fast, shame burning hotter. you wanted to disappear. you wanted to crawl under the blankets and pretend you hadn’t just reacted like that to the news of his absence. but your body wouldn’t cooperate. your heart was beating too hard. the room already felt emptier, even when he hadn’t left yet.
he reached down again and tipped your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. “the guard will still bring your meals. you’ll still have your books. nothing in this room will change.” his thumb brushed once across your bottom lip. “but you won’t see me. you won’t hear my voice. and you’re realizing you don’t like that very much, are you?”
you tried to pull your chin away. he didn’t let you.
“i told you once that you would stop defending him in your head eventually,” nicholas said, quieter now. “this is the same thing. you’re starting to understand that the only person who comes back for you is me. the only person who chooses to keep you soft instead of breaking you is me. and now that i’m taking that away for a few days, you’re scared.” his fingers tightened just slightly on your jaw.
“good. that means you’re learning.”
he let go of your face and patted your head once more, slower this time, almost like he was rewarding you for the panic you couldn’t hide.
“i’ll be back before you have time to forget what my hands feel like,” he said. “try not to spiral too badly while i’m gone. i want you in one piece when i return.”
he turned and walked to the door without looking back. the lock clicked shut behind him with the same final sound it always made.
you sat there for a long time after, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around yourself like they could replace the weight of his arm. the shame sat heavy in your chest, thick and bitter. you had almost smiled when he walked in tonight. you had let him hold you. you had felt relief when he touched you. and now the thought of him being gone for days made your stomach twist with something dangerously close to grief.
you pressed your forehead to your knees and tried to breathe.
it didn’t work.
the room was already too quiet.
you wondered if this was what dying felt like.
it was funny, in a sick, twisted way.
here you were—sobbing so hard your throat had gone raw and your voice had collapsed into something hoarse and broken at the fact your kidnapper that left you alone for a few days. every unexpected sound in the hallway made you flinch so violently your whole body jerked. the tray of food the guard left went mostly untouched. you couldn’t bring yourself to eat. you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything except sit on the bed with your arms wrapped around your knees and wait for footsteps that never sounded like his.
why did your heart hurt this much?
the question circled endlessly, mean and relentless. nicholas had kidnapped you. he had zip-tied your wrists, locked you in this room, and told you in that calm, certain voice that you belonged to him now. he had taken everything from you—your freedom, your future, even the small, sad life you’d been living before. and yet the thought of him not coming back made something inside you feel like it was caving in.
you tried to rationalize it. maybe you were just scared of what would happen if he died out there on whatever ugly business his father had sent him to handle. if nicholas was gone, there would be no one left to tell the others to keep their hands off you. you would either rot in this room until someone remembered you existed, or they would drag you out and use you the way nicholas had once said they wanted to. that was the logical explanation. that was the one that didn’t make you feel completely insane.
but it wasn’t the whole truth, and you knew it.
the truth was uglier. the truth was that some broken, lonely part of you had started needing him. not just his protection. him. the low sound of his voice. the careful weight of his hand on the back of your neck. the gentle feeling of his fingers in your hair. the way he looked at you like you were something he had chosen to keep instead of something the world had thrown away. you hated yourself for it. you hated how easily you had leaned into his chest that last night. you hated that you had almost smiled when he walked through the door. you hated that his absence felt like a hole in your chest that nothing else could fill.
every time footsteps passed in the hallway, your heart would lurch—stupid, desperate hope—only to crash when they kept moving. they never slowed. they never stopped at your door. and every time it happened, the ache got worse. you would press your forehead harder against your knees and try to breathe through it, but the sobs would come anyway, quiet and wrecked, until your voice gave out completely.
you told yourself it was fear. you told yourself it was survival instinct. you told yourself anything that made the feeling make sense.
none of it helped.
the two weeks had felt like dying in slow motion.
you had stopped counting the days properly after the first week. time blurred into long stretches of staring at the ceiling, jumping at every sound in the hallway, and trying not to fall apart completely when the footsteps never belonged to him.
you told yourself he was probably dead. that his father’s business had finally taken him the way it took so many others—another body in whatever ugly war the wang family was always fighting. the thought should have brought relief. instead it left you hollow and sick, because if nicholas was gone, then so was the only thing keeping you from becoming exactly what he’d warned you about.
but when the familiar rhythm of his footsteps finally reached your door, your heart slammed so hard against your ribs you thought it might actually burst.
the door opened.
he looked wrong.
the white button-up was wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms so the pale scar near his elbow stood out stark against his skin. a black vest hung open over it, tie pulled loose and crooked like he’d been yanking at it. his face was the worst part. tired, bloodshot eyes that still burned with something sharp and unhinged. dried blood streaked across his jaw and one cheek, flaking in places. more of it crusted on his fingers. he looked like he hadn’t slept. like whatever he’d done out there had followed him back inside this room.
you wondered if the wild hammering in your chest was fear or relief.
maybe both.
it didn’t matter. the second he stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him, the relief died screaming.
nicholas crossed the room in three long strides. his hand shot out and gripped your jaw hard, fingers digging into your skin as he forced your head back. some of the blood still partially wet on his knuckles smeared against your cheek. up close, he smelled like gunpowder, sweat, and something metallic.
you made a small, broken sound.
he didn’t speak at first. he just looked at you—really looked—like he was checking to make sure you were still exactly where he’d left you. his thumb dragged roughly across your bottom lip, smearing a trace of blood there too.
“two weeks,” he said, voice low and rough, nothing like the calm tone he used to use. “and you still look at me like that. fuck.”
you tried to turn your face away. his grip tightened until it hurt.
“don’t,” he warned. “i’ve spent fourteen fucking days thinking about this room. about you in it. about whether you were still here or whether someone had gotten stupid while i was gone.” his other hand came up and fisted in your hair, yanking your head back further. “and the second i walk in, you look at me like you don’t know whether to be scared or happy i’m alive.”
tears stung your eyes. you hated that he could still read you so easily.
nicholas leaned in until his blood-streaked face was inches from yours. his breath was hot against your mouth.
“which one is winning right now?” he asked. “fear? or relief?”
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. your throat had closed up.
he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. it was sharp and exhausted and a little unhinged.
“doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “both work for me.”
his hand left your jaw only to shove you backward onto the bed. you landed hard. before you could scramble away he was on you, knee between your thighs, one hand still fisted in your hair while the other ripped at the front of your shirt. buttons scattered. he didn’t bother being careful. he yanked the fabric apart and dragged his bloodied fingers down your chest, leaving faint red smears across your skin.
“wait—nicho—”
the word barely left your mouth.
nicholas didn’t let you finish.
his hand clamped over your lips, hard, smothering the rest of his name. the blood on his fingers smeared across your mouth and cheek as he shoved you deeper into the mattress.
“don’t,” he warned, voice low and ragged. “don’t say my name like you’re still allowed to tell me no.”
you made a muffled, panicked sound against his palm. he ignored it. with his other hand he finished tearing your shirt open the rest of the way, buttons pinging across the floor. his bloodied fingers dragged down your bare chest, leaving red streaks over your skin like he was marking you.
“two weeks,” he muttered, almost to himself. “two fuckin’ weeks of thinking about this. about you. about whether someone had touched what’s mine while i was gone.” his knee forced your thighs wider. “and you’re still trying to say wait? thought you’d learned. thought my absence would be enough to break you so i wouldn’t have to take.”
“guess not.”
he moved his hand from your mouth only to shove two fingers past your lips instead, pressing down on your tongue. you gagged around them. the metallic taste lingering on your tongue. he didn’t care.
“open properly.”
when he pulled his fingers out they were wet with your spit. he didn’t give you time to breathe before he was undoing his belt one-handed, the other still fisted tight in your hair. he freed his cock—already hard, flushed dark—and dragged the head across your lips, smearing precum and a faint trace of blood.
“clean it.”
you hesitated, tears already spilling. nicholas yanked your hair hard enough to make your eyes water and pushed forward, forcing the head past your lips and into your mouth. he didn’t ease in. he thrusted shallowly at first, then deeper, using your hair as a handle to fuck your throat in rough, impatient strokes. you choked around him, hands flying up to push at his thighs. he caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head against the mattress.
“that’s it,” he growled, hips snapping forward. “take it. you spent two weeks crying over me—now you can choke on me instead.”
he used your mouth until your jaw ached and tears streamed down your temples, until spit dripped down your chin and onto your bare chest. only then did he pull out, breathing hard, and flip you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing. he yanked your hips up, shoved your face into the pillow, and pushed two fingers into you without warning.
you were wet. shame burned through you at how easily your body betrayed you.
nicholas laughed once, low and mean. “look at that. missed me that much, huh?” he fucked you with his fingers hard and fast, curling them cruelly until your legs shook. “say it. say you missed me while i was gone.”
you shook your head into the pillow, sobbing. he added a third finger and curled them up—hitting that spot so perfectly that your legs shook and your mouth betrayed you by letting out pathetic muffled whimpers and whines.
“say it or i’ll make it hurt more.”
“i—i missed you—” the words came out broken and muffled.
he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his thick cock in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. you cried out into the pillow. it stung. it wasn’t like you’d been a virgin. you’d done less than savory work to keep food in your stomach but it had been awhile—not to mention, he was big. maybe not extremely long but long enough that you occasionally felt his cock press against your cervix. more than you’d ever taken.
he didn’t give you a second to adjust. he fucked you hard and deep, one hand still fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip so tightly you knew there would be bruises.
“two weeks,” he snarled against your ear, pace relentless. “two weeks of thinking about this pretty little cunt. about how tight you’d get when you’re terrified. about how cute you look when you cry.” he yanked your head back by the hair, forcing your back to arch. “and you were in here wondering if i was dead? pathetic.”
you were sobbing openly now, overwhelmed, but your body kept clenching around him. nicholas noticed. of course he did.
“still getting wet for me even while you’re crying,” he said, voice rough with something between anger and satisfaction. “cute. you’re learning well.”
he reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, brutal circles while he kept fucking you. the combination was too much. you came with a broken, humiliated sound, walls fluttering around him. nicholas groaned, fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again.
he shoved back inside before you could catch your breath, pinning your wrists above your head. his blood-streaked face hovered over yours as he fucked you slower but deeper, grinding against that gummy spot inside you with every thrust. you could feel your vision begin to blur. the overstimulation drowning you within its waters.
“look at me,” he ordered.
you tried. your eyes, red and wet with tears. he looked down at you with sharp cat like eyes—and god, did he look like he wanted to devour you whole.
“you’re mine,” he said, voice quieter but no less intense. “even when i’m gone. even when you’re scared of me. even when you hate yourself for missing me.” his hips snapped forward harder. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room.
“say it while i’m inside you. come on, pretty girl.”
“i’m yours—” it tore out of you on a sob.
and thats all it took, your admission of giving yourself up to your captor. nicholas’s rhythm faltered as he buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural sound, flooding you in hot, thick pulses. he stayed there, cock twitching inside you, forehead pressed to yours as he caught his breath. all you could do was whimper at the warm heavy feeling of his cum filling you up.
for a long moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the wet sound of him still inside you.
then he kissed you—slow, almost gentle, tasting like copper and exhaustion.
when he finally pulled out, he watched his cum leak out of you with dark, satisfied eyes. he dragged two fingers through it and pushed them back inside you, like he was making sure it stayed.
“missed you too,” he murmured against your temple, voice rough. “more than i should’ve.”
his bloodied fingers stroked your hair almost tenderly while you shook beneath him.
✨ pairing: best friend!nicho x afab!reader x best friend!k
💜 summary: what started out as a fun vacation with your two best friends, who you’re also fucking at the same time without either of them knowing, turns into a few days of close calls and barely kept secrets. you’re not sure what you’ll do with yourself if they discover what you’re up to - but at least you won’t have to face it alone.
their response when they find out? “bet.”
✨ genre: basically pwp like the majority is just smut lmao, best friends to lovers (kinda? up to interpretation i guess?), fluff, no angst for once!
💜 rating: 18+ (mdni)
✨ word count: ~10.3k words
💜 content warnings: nicho and k are menaces separately but also together (they're so unserious pls), sex against a countertop, penetration, unsafe sex (pls be safe), implications of leaving marks, cumming inside, fingering, shower sex, multiple sex scenes basically, kissing & making out, some biting, eventual knicho threesome, groping, oral (m. & f. receiving), grinding/teasing, hair pulling, rough sex, face-fucking, dirty talk (they like to be very vocal unfortunately), praising, reader is a little bit of a brat at points so brat tamers!knicho to the rescue, getting fucked from both ends, nicho and k reacting to each other 👀, cursing (fuck is said a lot), aftercare, open ending, no mxm (this time at least 👀), they get a little silly at the end and it's pretty cute 💜
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a/n: hello!! not new to writing but i am new to writing for &team and am so grateful to my bestie @justawenotype for introducing me to them because i adore them so much (and also thank you to bestie for beta-ing for me even when though the content contains her 2 ults and is diabolical 🤩)
pls enjoy nicho and k being a menace for pretty much 10k words - thank you for reading! 💜
You had never been more grateful for a hand covering your mouth.
The reason? K was staying in a room near the kitchen you were currently in, probably (hopefully) sleeping while Nicho fucked you within an inch of your life against the marble countertop.
His hand was pressing hard against your mouth to muffle your sounds, but you were still viscerally aware of just how loud you were being, hand over your mouth or not.
"What's the matter, angel?" Nicho was breathing hard as he placed a kiss along the curve of your jaw. "Afraid someone will hear how sweet you sound when I'm inside you like this?"
All you could do was cry out, trying to keep your volume quiet as your hands gripped the counter like a lifeline.
All this started because Nicho had caught you on your way to make some late night hot cocoa. After all, you were vacationing with your two best friends in a cabin in the mountains — the environment was just right for some cozy beverage to help you lull yourself to sleep.
Fate, however, had other plans for you.
Because you 'looked hot reaching for a cup' and he 'couldn't let the prime fucking space go to waste,' Nicho was compelled to put his words into actions.
Not that you were much better off — you were already begging for him by the time he was teasing your nipples underneath your long t-shirt. What's worse is K had just fucked you only a few hours prior, and yet, you still wanted more.
Right, there was also that — you were fucking both of your best friends at the same time, with neither of them knowing about the other. It'd been going on for a while, and it all started one night when K and you both had a 'fuck it' moment and just went for it.
Nicho was a few weeks after you'd already established a routine with K. It was a similar situation, but it almost felt like there was more heat, more passion. After that, you really had no chance.
You didn't want to stop with either of them because they both took care of you and fucked you like you needed, just in different ways.
K always turned you into a mess within a matter of minutes, his stamina outmatched in more ways than one. He was the one who was more likely to take his time with you, loving the way you became so pliant in his hands after he'd barely even started. 'All night long' was your normal now when it came to K, and you craved him every single time.
Now, Nicho, on the other hand—
Nicho was the one who liked to fuck you hard and deep, much like he was currently doing with you pressed against the counter. He could render you silent from the sheer force, truly unable to let out a word because your body was too busy shaking and your eyes were rolled back into your skull. The term 'fucked dumb' hadn't ever seemed all that probable to you before — now with Nicho, it was almost a guarantee.
Nicho also was the one more likely to not care about the possibility of being caught by anyone else, especially not K. You'd asked him on one occasion what he would do if K walked in on the two of you and he just shrugged before answering:
"Keep fucking you, what else would I do? Let him watch if he wants — I don't mind an audience."
It was after that encounter that Nicho learned you, too, somewhat liked the idea, despite the panic it caused you if you thought about it too long. Nicho fucked you the hardest he ever had at that point, as he kept grunting in your ear about how pretty you were and how you probably wanted K to see you like this, to hear you like this.
A harsh thrust snapped you back into reality as your knee collided with one of the cabinets in front of you. It didn't hurt, but the loud bang it produced made you flinch. Nicho stopped to check on you without slowing down all the way.
"Sorry, baby, did I hurt you?" He removed his hand and tapped your lips lightly so you knew he wanted actual verbal confirmation.
"No, just took me off guard," every word almost seemed like a separate sentence with how much you were panting for him. "I'm ok, please — don't stop."
A wicked grin crossed Nicho's face as he turned your chin to look at him.
"There's my angel. Not so shy now, are you?"
Before you could answer, he resumed his pace from earlier, this time swallowing down any sound you made with his own lips. It felt like he was breathing you in as he kissed you, barely breaking away for even a moment at a time for you to catch your breath.
He had one hand still curved around your chin from where he'd turned you to face him, the other with an unrelenting grip on your waist as he pounded into you. Your own hands were trying to stay connected to the counter, but with how Nicho was jostling you, stability wasn't your main priority at the time.
"Mmfh, fuck, baby," Nicho moaned against your lips, also having a hard time now trying to keep quiet. "Fuck, so close — you gonna let me cum inside? Let me fill you up, remind you who you belong to?"
You were nodding because it was a usual occurrence and you wanted it just as much, but then you fully processed the fact that he'd just said something he'd never said before: you belonged to him.
Nicho never really struck you as the possessive type… but you'd also never asked him about it before, either. And it wasn't like you two were exclusive, but you'd be lying if you said that wasn't one of the hottest things he'd ever said to you while fucking you.
You chalked it up to a 'heat of the moment' thing to say and focused instead on the euphoria that welled up inside of you with each new thrust of his hips.
"Please, Nicho — give it to me, please—"
"Ah, fuck," Nicho grunted and pulled his hand away from your chin so he could put it back over your mouth again before he trailed his other hand down to find your clit. One flick of his finger left you reeling, and you felt his breath against your ear when he chuckled at your reaction.
Covering your mouth was good thinking on his part, because the noise you let out certainly would've been heard otherwise.
He gently bit your earlobe, keeping a steady pace in both ways he was pleasing you. You felt like you were melting for him, ready to become a puddle on the kitchen floor.
Nicho moved his mouth from your earlobe to right beside your ear and you heard every ragged pant that escaped him. All it took was two simple words from him for you to find your release:
"You're mine."
He growled out the words, leaving you completely speechless as you reached your peak. You spent so long coming down from your own high that you almost didn't register when Nicho filled you up, just like he said he would.
"Angel, shit, take it, take everything—"
Nicho's hand that was holding onto your waist with a grip hard enough to leave marks as he spilled inside of you. It was something you normally tried to avoid, but after everything that had just transpired, it felt right.
Nicho panted against the nape of your neck as his hands smoothed up and down your sides in a calming manner. After a minute or two he finally pulled out, careful to help pull your panties back up so nothing leaked out.
"Keep it all in for me, hm?" He gently patted against the outside of your panties, the action making your clit throb. "As a reminder."
"A reminder?" You titled your head, enjoying the way his fingers sifted through your hair to fix what he had mussed up earlier.
"Mhm." he hummed as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "Don't think too hard about it, don't want you hurting that pretty little head of yours."
You pouted, making him laugh. It was a sound you loved, so it was worth it. "Fine, I guess."
"Good girl. Now head back to bed."
"But, my cocoa—"
"I got it, don't worry." He gently nudged you toward the doorway, landing a soft pat on your ass when you walked by. "I interrupted you, the least I could do is finish making it and bring it to you."
You sighed and smiled, making sure Nicho could see your amused expression before you turned to go back to your bedroom. When he appeared with your cocoa a few minutes later, you were startled when you heard the unmistakable click of him taking a photo with his phone as you put the cup to your lips.
"Lights, camera, action — smile for me, baby."
You pretended to be annoyed with him for all of 2 seconds before you ended up having a mini-photoshoot over the next few minutes while you drank your cocoa. Nicho accepted one last kiss as 'payment for services rendered' before he left you alone again and took your empty cup back to the kitchen.
Your bedroom was in the middle of K and Nicho's with K's being closest to the kitchen area. K had fucked you in his bed only hours before, when Nicho was out for something. When you propositioned the vacation, you didn't think about how hard it would be to keep this up with both of them while staying in the same house, barely even a room apart from one another.
Truly not one of your brightest moments.
Somehow, though, you were still making it work, but if these men remained as eager to get their hands on you as they always are — you were in for an interesting few days.
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It was supposed to be a simple shower.
But, as you already knew, nothing was ever simple when you let yourself be consumed by K.
You’d just started lathering soap across your shoulders, ready to move down your arms when you heard a knock at the door.
“Princess?” K called out to you, making you giggle among the water and steam. “Is that you in there?”
“How’d you know it was me?” You let some of the water cascade down your face, listening as you heard his footsteps get closer.
“Lucky guess. Plus, the car’s gone, and I know Nicho wanted to grab some things at the shop nearby. So…” his words tapered off, and you no longer heard him walking. He sounded much closer now, but the shower curtain was just thick enough to where you couldn’t quite make out if there was another silhouette outside.
Part of the curtain moved and in popped K’s head, his eyes closed but that ever-present grin sitting so prettily on his face.
“Want some company?”
You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn’t see you. “Depends. Are you going to actually let me shower?”
K scoffed like he was offended. “You act like I have nefarious intent.”
“Don’t you always?”
His lips quirked up into a smile. “Irrelevant. So what do you say, princess? Gonna let me join you?”
You let out a dramatic sigh. “I guess, if you insist—”
Within seconds K was already stripped and joining you underneath the stream of water. The speed at which he turned you to face him made you squeal with surprise and delight, laughing as he shook his head to get the already wet hair out of his face.
“Got you,” he pulled you closer, locking you in his embrace. Your chest was flush with his own, and the close proximity had you heating up more than the shower could ever hope to.
His hands were slow in their descent, but purposeful, as he moved them down to grab a hold of your ass. He squeezed with both hands, making you gasp at the touch. A devious chuckle left him before he landed a playful smack on one cheek.
“Just making sure you’re clean back here.” Another pat, this time on the other cheek.
“There’s no soap,” you argued, your tone clearly giving away your amusement.
“See? I’m doing such a great job already.”
“Hm, debatable. I’m sure there’s other areas you can clean though,” you decided to give the teasing energy back as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Oh, I’ve got some in mind already, don’t you worry,” K smirked as the words came out, moving one of his hands to the front of your torso.
“Like here,” he said softly as he caressed one of your breasts, carefully brushing the nipple with his wet thumb and sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.
“Here,” his hand traveled lower to curl around your hip, an area he knew to be particularly sensitive. His forehead was touching yours now, lips just a few inches away from your own.
“And here,” he continued his journey until his hand met your folds, already slick from the water and becoming more intense every second by your quickly building desire. He rubbed your clit in a circular motion with 2 fingers, taking advantage of the gasp you let out against his mouth by closing that distance to kiss you fully.
Your moans just seemed to spur K on, his movements changing from focusing on your clit to being inside of you. He plunged two fingers in deep, the action making you shake in his hold. He turned you so your back was against the wall, keeping you stable and caged in by his body as he wrecked you with one hand.
“K, fuck,” your head hit the shower wall tile behind you, eyes closed as he kissed down your neck. “Please, please—”
“Please what, baby?” K’s seemingly unaffected tone would’ve bothered you more in any other circumstance, but you knew this was getting to him by how hard you could feel him against your thigh. “I’m already taking you apart with just my fingers — you want more?”
You nodded, blindly moving in what you hoped was the direction of his face so you could kiss him again. Thankfully, he met you head on, as a groan slipped past his lips only to be swallowed by you.
“Don’t worry, princess,” K breathed out as he pulled away to break the kiss, “I’ll give you anything you want.”
He dropped to his knees, the sudden change in movement staggering. Before you could regain your own balance, K took care of it for you, placing one hand on your hip to keep you against the wall as he picked up one of your legs with the other. He placed it where the crook of your knee rested on his shoulder, providing him with a way to help keep you steady while also giving him better access to devour you.
"Always so messy for me," K looked up at you, eyes focused and full of desire. It was a look you knew well, one that told you to prepare for the man on his knees for you to take you apart in one of the best ways possible.
"Fucking dripping, baby," K continued before he slowly licked a long stripe up from your entrance, holding eye contact with you the entire time. He applied more pressure to your clit with his tongue and took the opportunity to stuff 3 fingers into you, curling them in a way that made you arch away from the shower wall.
"Oh my god—"
"There she is." From his tone of voice alone, you could picture the devious smile spread across his lips, even with your eyes closed and your head tipped back.
K continued like he usually did, in such a way that had you losing your mind in a matter of minutes. Right before he could pull you over that edge, it happened.
There was a strong knock on the door.
You almost didn't register it at first, K's tongue successfully wiping your brain clean of any coherent thought. But when K stopped and you heard another knock, your body went rigid. K looked up at you, same smirk from before still plastered on his face.
Nicho called out your name and you heard it clearly through the shut door. You gulped, not sure how to get yourself out of this situation if Nicho decided to join you like K had.
"Go ahead, princess," K gently placed a kiss on your thigh, "it's rude to not answer people."
A ragged sigh left you as you tried to find your voice. You cleared your throat before you responded weakly.
"Y-Yeah, I'm in here. What's up?"
K laughed with his lips still pressed against your skin and the small vibrations made your skin tingle.
"Just letting you know I'm back. I couldn't find K, so…"
You looked down at the man in question then, almost annoyed at how he was eating all this up — no pun intended.
"Any idea where he's at," Nicho asked. You licked your lips before you opened your mouth, preparing to answer by saying…
Saying what, exactly?
"Time to make up a good excuse, baby," K so helpfully suggested, "unless you want an audience."
You couldn't help the way you clenched around him when he said it, and K reacted immediately. He started moving his fingers inside of you again, slowly at first, but quickly picked up speed. You clapped your hand over your mouth before you cried out, other hand harshly tugging his hair and making him groan.
You realized then after Nicho called your name once more that you still hadn't answered him. "Yeah, I, uh— I'm not sure?"
Nicho was quiet for longer than you thought he would be. Before he could answer again, K spoke instead.
"If he comes in here," he flicked your clit with his tongue, "I'm stopping."
"No, please." You weren't above begging at this point, you were so close earlier—
"Then you better think fast, princess. We both know how curious Nicho can be."
You managed to stutter out something you hoped was halfway believable, taking great care to not moan and give away what was happening. K didn't show you any mercy, and by the time Nicho confirmed he was leaving to do something else, you had started sliding down the wall from shaking so much in K's hold. A few more swipes of his tongue had you cumming so hard that you did actually fall forward.
K was there to catch you — he was always there when you needed him, in more ways than one.
"You," your breaths were coming out uneven as you came down from the euphoria K just put you through, "are a fucking menace."
"And you," he kissed your hip as he looked up at you with a smile that always made you do a double-take, "love that about me."
"Unfortunately, you're right."
"When am I not," K teased you as he helped you finish in the shower.
"Don't push your luck," you responded as you matched his energy. Before he turned around for you to help in return, he had one more smart remark for you.
"Your wish is my command, princess."
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Your hand was pressed firmly over your mouth again (for who knows how many times now during this trip with these two insatiable men), trying to stifle any noises that might give away what you were doing while Nicho was still in the same house, likely just a room away.
K, on the other hand, was anything but quiet, and you could tell he took it as a challenge when he couldn’t hear you well. He would come up for air and call out praises to you, which always made you moan a little more with each new one.
The breathiness of K's voice clouded all of your thoughts. You were naked on his bed while he had only removed his shirt, and he had you shaking within minutes as his tongue explored you like he knew every part of you from the inside out.
The slam of the door against the wall was what momentarily broke your concentration on how amazing you were feeling.
“Well, well… starting without me?”
You weren’t sure why you were expecting anyone different, but the shock and excitement that coursed through you when your eyes met Nicho’s was enough to have you flinching.
He was leaning one shoulder casually against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. His gorgeous smile slowly spread across his lips, lips that you desperately wanted to feel.
“And here I always thought you were a good girl.”
At his words, K pulled you over that crest and your first orgasm hit you with such a sudden force you couldn’t even get a warning out. Your scream could be heard clearly through the barrier of your hand that you were still holding over your face for some reason.
"Damn, I made you cum with just my voice? Crazy work." Nicho's voice had that slight hint of an edge to it, the one that let you know you were about to be in for a ride.
You watched K roll his eyes as he let out an annoyed, but lighthearted, huff. "Did you already forget I'm here?"
"Unfortunately, no," Nicho answered as he sauntered over to the bed, "but lucky for you I like an audience."
"And you should be thankful that I don't mind sharing," K retorted. You still hadn't dropped your hand from your mouth as you blinked at one then the other.
"Can't let this inflate your ego just yet, give it time." Nicho was now standing beside the bed, looking down at you with what you could only describe as hunger. He caressed the side of your face before he gently pried your hand away from your mouth.
"There she is," he grinned, wolfish and alluring. "Don't hide that pretty face from me, angel," his voice was softer as he swiped his thumb across your bottom lip.
Your mouth parted more on instinct before you closed your lips around his thumb, holding eye contact with him while you sucked on it. Nicho groaned at the sight.
A quick nip to your thigh brought your attention back to K, who was still smiling in between your legs.
"Careful, princess," he warned, "unless you want me to get jealous before the real fun starts."
"Wait," you finally managed to round up enough of one braincell to speak, "you… you two know about each other?" You glanced at K first, then Nicho who had moved his hand to sift through your hair instead.
"You're not exactly subtle," Nicho laughed. "It was kinda easy to put together with us all under one roof for an extended amount of time."
"Of course, I already suspected it before this—"
"We suspected it before this," Nicho cut in.
Another eye roll from K. "Fine, we both apparently caught on that something was happening before this trip but never mentioned it to each other because why would we?"
Your mind was muddled with so many thoughts. The throbbing you were still feeling from the aftermath of K's tongue, Nicho's gentle and familiar hand in your hair, and the knowledge that they both knew all manifested into enough energy to make your body vibrate.
"It doesn't bother either of you?"
They both looked at each other and shrugged before Nicho shook his head. "Nah," he answered. "Does it bother you, though?"
"That's what matters," K gently squeezed the area of your thigh that he had bitten earlier. "Finding out that we know is more news for you, we've had time to think about it."
"I'm just… at a loss for words, I think." The idea didn't bother you, really; if anything, it gave you a feeling of relief.
"You do tend to get that way after you've been fucked good," Nicho added, making you whine and K laugh.
"She sure does," K supplied, "and we haven't even gotten our hands on her properly yet. She's only had this so far," he paused to swipe his tongue through your folds, making you jolt at the action.
Nicho chuckled and his hand wound tighter in your hair. "Look at her, she can't stay still. Maybe we should do something about that, hm?"
You were nodding before you realized it, gasping when he pulled your hair.
"Good girl," Nicho answered before he addressed K. "Mind if I have a turn?"
"All yours," K responded, almost a little too easily, almost like they planned it.
You didn't have much time to ponder it before Nicho pulled his shirt off and slid into K's place. Before Nicho could really get settled though, you watched as K continued undressing before he sat behind you on the bed. Nicho was unfazed, instead focusing on where he was soon to be devouring you.
"C'mere, princess," K opened his legs wider and pulled you in so your back was against his chest. "Keep those pretty legs open," he ran his mouth along the shell of your ear and delighted in how it made you shiver. "Nicho looks hungry."
"Ravenous," Nicho corrected, still sporting that same grin that you swore would be the death of you. "You ready, angel?"
You nodded vigorously, but neither of them were having it. K flicked one of your nipples while Nicho bit the inside of your thigh.
These men and their affinity for biting—
"You know how this goes, baby. We need words," Nicho continued, mouth just ghosting over your clit while he waited for verbal confirmation.
K's hands rested just under the swell of your breasts, gently smoothing his hands over the skin there. You were in the most compromising position of your life and you were so ready for these men to fuck you up in the best way possible.
"Please," was the only word you needed to say before both of them switched into gear.
K's hands fondled your breasts as he used his grip there to keep you in place against him. His tongue ran up the side of your neck, and the groan that left him at your movement was what made you realize just how hard he was underneath you. You could feel him without the barrier of clothes, which added another layer to everything that was already happening in the moment.
You watched as Nicho's eyes rolled back for a moment as he dove in, going hard from the jump since you'd already cum once before. He'd usually take more time riling you up, but it was safe to say that wouldn't be necessary.
His brows were furrowed as his stare locked in on you and he flitted his tongue against your clit. He moaned like he was the one getting head, and the vibrations from his sounds had you quivering at the extra stimulation they provided.
You felt K throb underneath you every few seconds, and his grunts he kept letting out against your ear were driving you insane. You wanted him inside you, but you also wanted Nicho to keep eating you out like he needed it to live, but you also wanted to suck Nicho off and maybe be fucked by K at the same time—
There were so many choices for what you wanted to do with the two of them that it almost made you dizzy.
Nicho's nose was rubbing against your clit as he slid his tongue into your entrance, making sure to get every last drop you would give him. "Fuck, angel," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear each word "god, I never get tired of how you taste."
You whined at the praise and your body moved without thinking because you couldn't help it. K gripped your breasts harsher and his palm rubbed against your nipples, wrecking you even more.
"Keep doing that," K breathed out, "Got her squirming in my lap, she fucking loves it."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Nicho answered before he focused his tongue on your clit again. "Pussy like this, I'm gonna savor every bit of it."
Nicho talking filthy during sex wasn't new to you in the slightest, but he still managed to surprise you. It was almost like he was bolder with someone else around.
Or at least, he was bolder with K around.
When Nicho finally slipped two fingers into you, your head leaned back against K's shoulder. You unintentionally gave him easier access to the spot of your neck that was the most sensitive, and he took advantage of it for all of maybe 5 seconds before he spoke.
"Aw, princess," he cooed at you, the slight condescension in his tone arousing you even more. "Can't keep your eyes open?"
You shook your head with your eyes squeezed shut, partially because everything they were doing to you felt fucking phenomenal, but also because you wanted to be stubborn.
Because being a brat was bound to help you in this situation with both of them at the same time, surely that was the answer.
K hummed in thought before you felt one of his hands leave your chest. You were about to complain until you felt fingers curl around your chin.
K straightened your head back up and turned you to face him. He kissed you quickly, yet with enough passion to take your breath away. Almost like a reminder that he was still there — as if you could ever forget him in the first place.
After he pulled away he smiled before he continued turning your head to face Nicho.
"Eyes open," K uttered the words softly, but you knew the intent behind them. "It's rude to not watch him enjoy his meal."
Nicho's chuckle against you at K's comment turned into a moan once your eyes met his again. He was still staring at you and likely had been the whole time, even when you weren't looking.
Nicho and eye contact: a fucking lethal combination if you'd ever seen one.
His eyes were already intense on their own, but the way they turned even darker when his mouth ravaged you had always been a weakness of yours. The emotion in his eyes swirled with an untamed hunger, one that would never be satisfied no matter how much you gave him.
The way you saw his eyes briefly flutter closed as another groan slipped out of him was enough to have you approaching your high again for the second time tonight, a little too quickly for your liking.
"Wait, too much, Nicho, it's too much—"
Your pleas fell on deaf ears as you tried to warn Nicho of what was coming.
Did he care? Absolutely not — he didn't care in the slightest.
"There's my girl," he pulled away for the briefest of moments to coax you into your orgasm you so desperately wanted to keep at bay. Neither of them had cum even once yet, and here you were about to get off for the second time in an alarmingly short amount of time.
"Make a mess for me, baby." Nicho's eyes darted up to look at K for a second before fixing them on you again. "Make a mess for us."
"Do it for us," K added on, slurring the words against your ear before he grazed your earlobe with his teeth. "Promise we'll make you feel so good."
Understatement of the fucking century, maybe.
He pinched both of your nipples then, and the combined action with Nicho's tongue as it showed you no mercy made you arch your back as you reached your climax again. The scream that ripped from your throat probably sounded concerning, but it just seemed to urge them on even more.
Nicho didn't slow his tongue down until your shaking started to cease and your moans turned more into whines from oversensitivity. K did the same with your breasts, only letting up when it was clear your were done.
You were breathing heavy and for a moment you couldn't focus. K's voice was finally what brought you back to the present.
"Princess? You good?"
You wondered briefly how long they might have been trying to get your attention, since Nicho was now sitting up on the bed and K had the slightest hint of a frown on his face.
You nodded and gave them a thumbs up, hoping to alleviate any concern. "Never came so hard in my fucking life, so I'm doing fantastic, thanks for asking.
Nicho laughed and K simply shook his head and chuckled. "Yeah, you're back with us now," K was rubbing one hand up and down your arm, but he was still just as hard underneath you as he was when everything started once Nicho joined.
"Although," Nicho ran his hand through his pink locks and you noticed the small bit of shine still around his mouth and chin, "if that was enough to make you cum the hardest you ever have, how are you gonna handle everything else?"
You blinked at him, baffled. "Everything else?"
He smirked. "Well, I mean… I had more in mind. He probably did, too," Nicho nodded his head in the direction of K, "but this all starts and ends when you say so."
"Whatever you want," K added, "we'll do it."
"Or we won't do it, if that's what you want." Nicho grabbed one of your hands before he softly kissed the inside of your wrist. "You're calling the shots."
"I want more, I just— I'll need a second." Your admission made both of them laugh before K responded.
"So, you're still good to go for more?"
"Oh, please," you jokingly chided, "I can take anything you guys give me."
K and Nicho looked at each other then and similar smiles formed on their faces.
"Bet," they both said in unison. You didn't know whether to be impressed or scared at the timing. Or both.
You had a devious thought float through your brainwaves and acted on it before you could fully think about what consequences you might face.
You started grinding on K's lap, and he was still very hard and still very much directly underneath you so he could feel everything. The way he flinched in surprise made you giggle, but the way his hands flew to your waist quickly turned that giggle into a gasp.
"Oh? She wants to play again?" Nicho asked the question sweetly, clearly enjoying K's current predicament.
"Thought you needed a second," K moaned out as you continued your movement. Before you could respond, he met you halfway, adjusting you to where he could slide his dick against the wetness still clinging to your folds by bending you over some. The way every move of his hips made the head nudge against your clit almost made you second guess your course of action for instigating this.
At least, until you noticed Nicho had not only gotten undressed while your attention was on K, but he was stroking himself as he watched the two of you.
He was a sight to behold, even if you'd seen him without clothes too many times to count. You'd never seen him like this, though — clearly enjoying himself while he watched someone else, his other best friend, have his way with you.
He was standing up but had one knee on the bed for support. You could faintly see how his abs would move like they were caving inward when he stroked himself a certain way, and made a mental note to keep the info in mind for later.
Meanwhile, K was basically fucking your clit, pulling your attention back from Nicho as his thrusts became more purposeful.
"Could slip right in, she's so fucking wet," K grunted. His hands were sure to leave marks now with how hard he gripped your waist.
Nicho moaned, the sound almost caught in his throat. "Mmfh, I bet. Can hear her all the way over here."
'All the way over here' was only a few feet but still, the thought of your wetness being loud enough to carry that far was enough to leave you feeling flushed.
Nicho started biting his lip after that, but to your surprise his eyes weren't focused on your face or even your body, but rather where you and K were connecting. He watched as K's cock slid through your folds and whenever he could see the head rub against your clit, he would moan and stroke harder.
Nicho was getting off to you and K. He was biting his lip to stifle his noises because he was getting off to you and K.
Oh, you were about to have a field day with that info in the future.
You had an idea then on how you could please them both and satisfy your needs at the same time.
"Want more," you pushed yourself harder against K, stopping your motions for a moment. "Please."
"Want more what, baby? Gotta be more specific than that," K answered, breathing heavy as he slowed down his thrusts against you. Nicho also slowed his own pace, but still kept going.
"Yeah, we need to know what you — ah — want more of." Nicho's small sounds were making you lose your mind. You needed this man inside of you yesterday (even though he literally was yesterday).
"Want you inside," you looked over your shoulder at K. "Please, K," your begging combined with you saying his name made him groan. "Fuck me."
Nicho, surprisingly, moaned at the words leaving your mouth. "Fuck."
"Hm? Want me to fuck you, princess?" K's tone was teasing, but you knew he was just asking for confirmation. "Can you handle it?"
You scoffed before you retorted "You act like I haven't been taking your cock for months now." You turned your head back to face forward and added "Of course I can handle you," while looking directly at Nicho.
Your words were meant for K in that moment, but if Nicho thought you were talking to him, too? Even better. Especially since you saw how his cock visibly twitched in his hand as you did.
The only warning you got was a rough exhale from K behind you before you were being manhandled to where you were on your hands and knees. K lined up and slid in all the way with one thrust, his size making the fit somewhat painful before the feeling shifted into ecstasy as he started moving.
"If you're gonna talk like a brat and act like a brat," K spoke before he pulled you up by your hair so that you were against his chest, "you're gonna get fucked like a brat."
His grip in your hair tightened as he twisted the strands to wrap around his hand, fucking into you at a relentless pace that left you unable to make any sounds. All that could escape you at first were sharp exhales, on the verge of moans but never quite there.
K had literally taken your breath away. He'd never fucked you this fast before, and you were sure you could feel him rearranging your insides as he did.
Who was able to make sounds, though, was Nicho. And he wasn't trying to be quiet about it.
"Fuck, look so good like this," he didn't clarify if he meant just you or you and K and honestly the latter idea made you feel hotter on the inside than the former. "Taking him so well, ah. You gonna let him fuck the brat outta you, huh?"
Nicho's pace he set with his hand almost matched K's speed he was fucking you at, and the way Nicho was having trouble balancing with his one knee still on the bed made you smile in amusement before your mouth was agape at another intense thrust from K.
"M-maybe," you finally answered him. Your voice sounded raw and breathy, and nothing had even been down your throat yet.
You were hoping to change that very soon.
"Maybe? Why's that, princess?" K inquired behind you, and you could tell that this was getting to him as well with how frequently he was letting out his own noises that kept getting louder. "Think I can't fuck you how you need, hm?"
You chanced as much of a look as you could get in your current position to see if you could look at K's face, and from what you did see, he was looking at Nicho who was becoming more of a mess with each second. You realized then that the way K's dick twitched inside you every other time was almost always in sync with Nicho's moans.
Oh. Oh, this was wonderful news for you.
Not only were they falling apart because they both got to have you at the same time, but seeing each other in the throes of pleasure was taking them apart even faster, and that did something to you.
You needed to see this through. You finally put Part 2 of your Brilliant Plan into action.
"I know you can fuck me how I need," you answered K, which he seemed to appreciate since he thrusted deeper and harder once you did. "But maybe," you moaned and continued, eyes on Nicho now, "what I need this time is for someone to shut my mouth."
It was like Nicho and K's brain synapses linked together then as they both processed your words. Almost like they planned it (very, very much like they planned it) K loosened his grip in your hair and let you go so you could fall forward once more, settled on your hands and knees again as you looked up at Nicho.
Nicho, who was now on the bed completely, on his knees in front of you. He leaned down and caressed your chin before he pulled you into a kiss.
If a kiss could ever sear you from the inside out, it would be this kiss.
Nicho had never kissed you like that before. It felt like he was trying to invade every one of your senses while he inserted himself into the deepest parts of your emotional psyche.
"Angel, if you wanted something to fill that gorgeous mouth of yours," he said the words against your lips, his voice deeper now and with the tone of a siren. His mouth claimed yours once more, all tongue and teeth while he wiped your brain clean of anything that could begin to resemble a thought.
Nicho pulled away, a line of saliva connecting you two. His wicked grin was back in full force as he continued.
"You could've just fucking asked."
Nicho straightened up at that, leaving his cock with nowhere to go but directly in your face. He steadied it with one hand and raised an eyebrow at you. Your mouth opened instantly and his smile was lethal.
"Good fucking girl," Nicho praised you. Before he slid in, he playfully slapped your tongue with the head a few times, laughing at your annoyed whine.
"God, you're so cute when you're whiny." He ruffled your hair before he secured his hand in the strands tighter.
"But luckily for you," Nicho was finally pushing past your lips, "I'm into that shit."
Your mouth enveloped him as you started trying to focus on sucking how much you could (spoiler: definitely not enough) while also still getting railed by K.
And speaking of, K wasn't giving you any leniency. Almost as soon as he saw Nicho's dick in your mouth he upped his stroke game to the max and thrust hard enough to push you forward on the bed.
Forward and further onto Nicho's cock, and by the way he yanked your hair, you could tell he was enjoying it. The sudden intrusion down your throat unfortunately made you gag at first, but soon enough you were used to the feeling since K was not letting up on his forward propulsion of you in the slightest.
"Shit, take it all for me, yeah?" Nicho started running his mouth again as you looked up at him. He licked his lips and beads of sweet gathered around his temples. You had to imagine that you weren't faring much better, and you did see K was starting to sweat before he manhandled the fuck out of you.
Nicho tugged harshly, his grip in your hair bordering on painful but in a way you very much enjoyed. You watched as that same cocky smirk you knew all too well — the one he always wore before he was about to ruin you — spread across his stupidly beautiful face.
“Bet you like this, huh? Pretty pussy stuffed full while you choke on my cock?”
He held eye contact with you for a few seconds before he shifted his stare at K. The moans they let out in unison made you squeak in surprise.
"So fucking pretty," K punctuated each word with another movement, somehow managing to reach deeper inside you than he ever had before. You wouldn't be shocked if you could actually feel him in your stomach before long. "Taking us both so well, wish you could see yourself."
"Next— next time we do this," Nicho swallowed around a groan, "we're doing it in front of a fucking mirror."
The idea of a mirror, Nicho, K, you, and sex being involved was enough to make your head spin.
It wasn't enough, though, for you to gloss over how he'd said 'next time,' as in this would continue.
Even if you wanted to ask Nicho for clarification you couldn't, because his cock was so far down your throat that most noises were impossible for you to form. The way you were choking on it allowed you to still suck and also breathe but not be able to do much else.
You certainly couldn't stop the tears that were running down your face, and you knew the moment Nicho spotted them because he let out a loud moan at the sight.
"Fucking perfect, crying for my cock, you look so good like this," he stopped to take a breath that ended in another, louder moan when you sucked harder at his words. "Watching you get fucked while you've got that pretty little mouth wrapped around me too, fuck, it's insane."
"Think we need to keep her like this from now on, don't you?" K barely got his question out before his hands were as strong as a vice on your hips. He was obviously directing the question at Nicho, but you picturing yourself in between them like you were now and thinking about doing it whenever the three of you wanted to made you ache with want.
How you could ache for more while already being stuffed with both of them was beyond you, but you didn't question it.
K started hitting that spot inside of you that made you unravel every time for him with each movement of his hips. You started to clench around him as you felt your orgasm, yet again, drawing near. K's moans increased in pitch when you tightened around him, and you figured it may not be long now before someone other than you finally fucking got to cum.
K was causing you enough pleasure from the way he rammed into you that for a moment you stopped focusing on Nicho altogether and just let yourself exist in the space between them both.
Nicho wasn't bothered. You vaguely registered as his hand disappeared from your hair and both hands held the sides of your head.
"Aww, sweet girl can't keep up when she's being fucked from both ends?" His tone was downright degrading and you were living for it. "Don't worry, baby, I'll take care of you."
Nicho pulled out almost all the way, allowing you a second to take in a breath of fresh air. Once you were done, he slammed back into you hard enough to move you back against K. You were now being bounced back and forth, and you felt more used than you ever had been in your entire life.
And you still craved more of it.
Nicho held your head still while he started fucking your face and worked to match K's pace behind you. He was staring down at you, but he would kick his head back whenever fresh tears would squeeze out of your eyes.
"Gonna cum soon," K managed to get the words out in between all of the noises he and Nicho were serenading each other with. Your muffled grunts sent vibrations through Nicho's cock but they couldn't be heard in the midst of all the other noise.
"Where do you want it, princess?" The contrast between K's teasing tone and the way he was fucking you like he'd never see you again almost pushed you over the edge. "Hm? Gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy? Fill you up while you're still getting face-fucked?"
His words didn't make it any better, and Nicho wasn't any help. You made a poor, but successful, attempt at a nod and tried to get out something that sounded close enough to a 'yes.' Whatever you did must've been enough for K, because he readjusted his iron-clad grip on you and continued pounding into you like he'd gone feral.
"Fuck, can't believe how perfect you look spread out like this for us. I'm close, shit," K started rambling, and you knew from that alone that he would crack any minute now. You held yourself together long enough for it to happen, because you'd be damned if you came another time before either of them still had.
"Love making you cry," Nicho meanwhile provided additional commentary that had nothing to do with the situation you were currently preparing for: getting filled to the brim by K. "Love seeing how fucking ruined you get for me," Nicho made eye contact with K before he continued, "how ruined you get for us."
That sentence from Nicho with emphasis on the 'us' was apparently all K needed to let go. K's sounds as he spilled into you would be forever embedded in your brain, and you were thrilled at how they even made Nicho falter in his rhythm.
"Sound so pretty, fuck," Nicho grunted out the words but didn't say them loud enough for K to hear. You, however, heard him perfectly.
Again, you were provided with another tidbit of information that you filed away for later. The part of your brain that housed the info on everything that made Nicho weak now had it's own subsection for K that was filling up faster than you'd ever imagined it would.
K fell forward in his post-orgasm haze, and his forehead rested between your shoulder blades as he continued to let out heavy pants.
"Shit," he finally managed to get out with a slight laugh. "That was— fuck." He placed a kiss on your back before he carefully pulled out of you, in awe of how much he came and how much was currently trying to spill back out.
Nicho moaned before he pulled out of you from the other end. Some of your tears had collected where drool was also coming out of your mouth, but before you could think about it Nicho leaned down to kiss all of it away.
"Do I get to fill you up now too, angel?" Nicho sounded almost feral, and there was a fire in his eyes as he watched K's release dripping down your thighs. "Let us both claim you, remind you who you belong to?"
It was like what Nicho had said a few days earlier when he was fucking you in the kitchen, except now he also included K in the equation — a variable you never planned for before now.
"Please," you barely managed to get the word out, your throat actually raw now from the number Nicho just did on you.
Nicho had you on your back before you could even blink and he was already sliding home when you noticed K wasn't behind you anymore. K was instead lying next to the two of you, putting his hands to work again on your chest.
Nicho's fingers intertwined with yours as he held your hands against the mattress and pounded into you like your life depended on it. The sight of him above you, breathing hard while looking ethereal and already so fucked out made you feel actually insane.
"Not long now, fuck, so wet— both of us, inside you— fuck, I'm close," Nicho could no longer finish his sentences so you knew he had to be on the brink of exploding by now. You weren't doing much better since the double-team of Nicho's cock ramming into you and K's hands exploring you was exactly what you needed to help get you there for the final time.
"You look unbelievable, both of you." This time it was K speaking at a softer volume, enough for you to hear but Nicho was too far gone to even have a chance. "Incredible."
K's admiration was what made you snap, and another orgasm rushed through you while Nicho fucked you like he needed it to survive. This one wasn't as long as the last two, but it was enough to thoroughly fuck you up for several days.
You just needed Nicho to get there now, too. He could join you and K in the bliss of the aftermath once he got through that final push.
"Please, Nicho," you tried to appeal to him with a moan. He twitched inside you at the sound. "Fill me up. Remind me who of who I belong to," you paused for a moment before continuing, "Give me something to remember how both of you fucked me full."
Something like a growl worked it's way out of Nicho's mouth before he crashed his lips into yours. The stuttered mmfh sounds he let out against your lips made you clench tighter around him again and that was his undoing.
"Ah," Nicho pulled away from the kiss so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck instead. "Fuck, I'm cumming, shit."
Nicho's release started to fill you up alongside K's, but since there wasn't enough space your body was pushing him back out. Nicho was still cumming when he pulled out, moaning into your neck as his fingers wrapped around yours so tight that you weren't sure for a moment if he'd let go.
Nicho's noises were bordering on whines now as he started getting overstimulated from how much and how long he came. When he finally stopped, he let go of your hands and kissed your neck before he collapsed next to you on the other side of the bed, opposite of K.
A muffled "Fucking hell." was all you and K could hear from where Nicho was face down in the pillow. Both of you laughed and Nicho swatted one hand in what he hoped was the direction of at least one of you that you both dodged with ease. Nicho groaned and lifted his head after a moment, still in the act of catching his breath. He was smiling, first at you, and then at K. He looked stunning, and K mirrored his radiance so well that the image of them both in this moment truly had you at a loss for words.
It was silent for a little while, each of you comfortable in each other's space and having the freedom to just 'be' in this moment together. You were the first to break the silence as you were snuggled in between both of them, with K at your back and Nicho in front of you.
"When did you find out?"
You felt them both shift at the same time as they moved to sit up. This conversation called for it, you presumed, so you followed suit.
Nicho answered with "After the second time we fucked." while K responded with "The night you stayed over for the first time."
Your mouth fell open as you stared dumbfounded at both of them. Both of the timelines they'd given you lined up with right after you started messing around with Nicho after you'd already established something with K.
"You knew for that long," you questioned them and watched as they tried to keep straight faces, "and neither of you thought to tell me?"
"Oh, I definitely did. Remember when I said I didn't mind an audience when you asked about K walking in on us?" Nicho opened the memory back up for you to reflect on you before he continued with "I almost caved then because I thought you knew that I knew."
"What made you change your mind?" As much as the logic confused you, they were giving you answers, so you didn't want to question too much.
"Well, if I remember right, the way you got insanely turned on from the idea wiped the thought from my mind." Nicho flashed you with that fucking grin again. "So that one's on you, angel."
"When the pussy's so good you start to forget shit," K added on to your misery. You hid your face in a pillow this time, smiling even though they couldn't see it. Nicho laughed so hard that he almost fell off the side of the bed. You peeked over the pillow when you felt the bed dip and saw K keep Nicho steady with a hand on his arm. Once Nicho collected himself, he gave K a high five.
"I'm saying, like it's literally got me out here forgetting shit like it's a cancelled Sims action."
The comparison made you groan into the pillow this time. You still managed to get out a "What about you, K?" even though it was muffled by the fabric.
"I figured it out when you spent the night the first time after we'd started fucking because I saw the marks he left on you from — I'm assuming — the day before."
You could almost picture that night again clearly now, understanding then why K was more gentle with you the following morning. "How'd you know it was Nicho?"
"Well, I mean, we both knew the other wanted you, so it wasn't too hard to guess." K shrugged like he hadn't just dropped life-changing info on you.
They'd both wanted you longer than you knew about? They not only knew about it all this time, but neither one told you definitively how they felt until today.
"Why not just tell me?"
"We figured that if this was the best way both of us could have you, so be it. I was taking anything I could get for as long as you'd let me," Nicho responded, voice softer than you'd heard it throughout this entire escapade.
"Same for me," K answered, "and honestly if you were gonna be with anyone else, I'm glad it was him."
Nicho placed his hand over his heart. "Bro," he tried to sound choked-up with emotion, "That's so sweet, what the fuck."
"You're really calling me bro after what we just did?" K was not going to let Nicho get away with this easily, and you were giggling the whole time they bantered with each other.
"I'm pleading the fifth on that one." Nicho smiled before his eyes widened like he'd just gotten an idea. "Oh! Since she knows we know, I can finally ask you all the questions I'd been meaning to!"
You were baffled but K looked like he immediately understood what Nicho meant somehow. "What?"
"Right, good call. I got stuff to ask you, too—" K was cut off by you.
"Can someone explain to me what these questions are about?" You wanted to be in the loop again and you didn't have the slightest idea what they could mean. They both looked at you and answered at the same time.
"You."
"Questions about… me? Clarify?"
Nicho went first. "Yeah, we didn't want to like, talk about shit we'd done with you without you knowing because privacy and all that. But now," he turned completely so his entire body was facing K, "I gotta ask: does she do that thing when you do this?"
Nicho waved his arms around in the air vaguely, leaving you even more confused. K's response only managed to increase that confusion. You watched as K copied Nicho and turned to face him completely. He was nodding before he even got any words out.
"Yeah, she does! Fucking love it when she does, too," K continued with his own question then. "Did you ever do that thing and it made this happen?"
More vague hand gestures. An excited Nicho confirming that yes, something did happen whenever he did that thing. K nodding along like they'd both just discovered some secret treasure.
What you were seeing in front of you was chaotic enough for you to say fuck it and lay back down, cuddled up with a pillow while you continued to watch them with adoration.
You couldn't help but ask "Do I wanna know?" after one grand gesture from Nicho a few questions later caught your eye.
"I don't know," K started.
"Do you?" Nicho finished it for him, and you decided you'd had enough of their in-unison-behavior for one day.
You got cozy again in the bed and drifted off listening to them talk quietly and the shared laughter between them. When you woke up sometime later, you had been cleaned up and were nestled in between them again.
synopsis | you accidentally tune in to your roommate's special livestream... again and again and again.
details | roommate!euijoo x fem!reader, bestie!nicholas, forced proximity, thin walls, mentions of food, descriptions of eating, minor injury (finger cut), hotdogs, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, perv!ju, panty theft, handjob, dirty talk, praise, cursing, lowercase intended
wc | 7.5k
from the author | euijoo forehead save me. save me euijoo forehead
your package was waiting on the foot of your bed when you got home. the cardboard box was slightly crushed, the corners pushed in and the tape frayed like it had been dragged down a street by a rope. you'd been tracking it closely all week, since the contents cost about half of your paycheck and then some, having paid extra for a warranty. your anticipation had been growing all week not only because of the simple, modern-age dopamine rush of receiving a package but because, maybe, you'd finally get some sleep this weekend. and every day after.
that was if the item inside the box was less damaged than the outside.
"did you fucking sit on it?" you asked as you stomped into the kitchen you shared with your roommate, who was standing at the sink as if he were going to wash the dishes piling up but was, instead, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.
euijoo glanced up at you once, rolling his eyes as he flicked his loose, messy hair out of his eyes. he said, simply, "no, i didn't."
"well, somebody did," you sighed, navigating around him to get the scissors from a drawer, "i'm gonna be pissed if they're broken."
"you're already pissed," he half-laughed, shifting over to put distance between the two of you, like you were contagious with some incurable disease. he watched you, though, intently, as you swiped open what was left of the tape holding the box closed. or, rather, attempted to with the world's dullest scissors and apparently the toughest tape ever made. he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, "what's in the box, anyway?"
"if you'd have some patience," you grunted, shifting the box on it's side to get a better grip. but the grip wasn't better. in fact, it was worse, and the scissors clattered out of your hand, skidding across the floor and right by his feet. euijoo bent down to pick them up, and you sighed, defeated. he definitely thought you were incompetent. you had given him no reason to believe otherwise in your three months of living together.
"hand it over," he motioned for the box still caged in your arms, "before you cut your fingers off."
and when you handed him the package, he, too, struggled with wedging the blade between the concrete fibers. euijoo attempted an expert move, pinning the box in place between his knees and driving the scissors down the length of it with both hands.
"you're gonna cut your leg off," you winced at the maneuver, a bit prideful that you weren't struggling by any fault of your own. it was painful to watch, and the sight almost made you second-guess any invasive sentiments you had toward him. almost. he was undeniably attractive, tall and slender but broad and so boyish. euijoo carried a certain charm about him, like he was the teacher's favorite in school, like he had sold lemonade on the street corner and made no money because he drank it all before getting his first customer. he also seemed closed off in a way that reversed his charm in many situations; euijoo seemed to be actively fighting his personality off, like a mosquito buzzing in his face. he swatted and swatted. even now, he wanted to laugh at your critique of his technique when yours was far less successful, but he didn't. instead, he doubled down on making it work. you chewed at the inside of your cheek, "don't, like, stab it."
"do you want it open or not?"
"i'd prefer my noise cancelling headphones in one piece," you said, mumbling the next sentence under your breath at a volume you thought only you could hear, "i might finally get some sleep at night."
having a roommate had it’s perks– shared chores, shared rent, shared meals when one of you would make too large of a portion by accident– but it also had its drawbacks. having your particular roommate had one, very significant downside: the shared wall.
you thought living with euijoo would be convenient for the both of you, cheaper than living alone and in a cuter apartment, too, but it had grown to just be convenient for him. you knew him through a mutual friend, nicholas, who had personally recommended euijoo when you mentioned that you were looking for a roommate. according to nico, euijoo was helpful with chores and always paid his half of the rent on time, which was more than your previous roommates did. but you still didn't know him that well, having only been around him a few times in nico's large friend group.
"is there anything i should know about?" you had asked nicholas, just as a precaution before reaching out to euijoo about the apartment, "like, is he a sleepwalker?"
"uh, no, he doesn't sleepwalk," nico had laughed, then, a knowing, low chuckle, "but he's… kind of loud."
you could handle a bit of noise; you'd lived with gamers who shouted well into quiet hours, and your last set of housemates were sorority girls who sounded like they were competing in squealing matches every weekend. there was no possible way euijoo was louder than them— you told nicholas this, and he didn't discourage your decision to reach out to him the next day, offering him the spare room in your prospective flat.
the first night, you thought you had imagined it, the muffled grunts and curses that phased right through the wall separating your room from his. earlier that day, you could hear him on the phone, the way his voice carried right into the open space of the apartment despite the normal volume. you could hear every sharp slide of the plastic hangers on the rack as he organized his wardrobe. every slam of a drawer, every click of the light switch, every whir of the ceiling fan— it was like you were in there with him. but euijoo himself hadn't been loud in the way nicholas described, like a nuisance. he moved confidently, unafraid to bump corners or shuffle things around. for the first ten hours, you were inspired; you could have stood to be less apologetic, live a bit recklessly. but nicholas lived that way, too— confident.
maybe he snored, you had thought as you slipped into your bed. it was the only option left. unless nicholas had been pulling your leg, making you worry over nothing because he knew you would. your eyes fluttered closed, heavy after lifting boxes and unpacking all day. but just as you began to drift off, you heard it. you heard the unmistakable drawl of pleasure, the satisfied sighs and moans and strings of jumbled curses flowing from lips undoubtedly slack, and you knew only one thing for certain:
nicholas was fucking dead.
would it have been so difficult to mention that euijoo was some kind of sex addict? there was no other way to make sense of the sheer number of times a week your new roommate was moaning, alone in his room but talking himself through it like he wasn't. you were no prude, but you started taking a tally of the sleepless nights from how frequent his self-care sessions were. by night five, you'd barely slept a wink in your new apartment.
so, you really did hope that the headphones would be truly noise-cancelling. you craved a night's rest that didn't have a pre-show. but you didn't want to embarrass euijoo at all with your predicament. somehow, his comfortability outweighed your own. surely, it had nothing to do with his sweet, round eyes, dark like turned soil. or his patient smile, which dropped as soon as you let your grievances slip. i might finally get some sleep at night.
because euijoo heard it. he definitely heard it, telling by the way the scissors slipped in his hand and nicked the soft, golden skin of his finger like a thorn. he winced and brought the cut to his lips instinctively, dropping the scissors in the sink behind him. "shit," he muttered into his hand as you stuttered toward him and grabbed the half-opened box from his arms, dropping it to the floor.
"hold on," you urged him, like he had any choice, and began your violent rummaging through a drawer. somewhere, you had bandages. somewhere, you had your shit together, eight full hours of sleep, and a perfectly organized, ready-to-go first aid kit for situations like this, just in case two grown adults fail to open a cardboard box. your fingers combed through miscellaneous papers, pens, and rolls of tape until they landed on the box you were looking for. you sucked your teeth at the sight before you, "you might not like these, but they're all we have."
cartoon hotdogs scrawled in vivid hues of red and yellow, complete with giant eyes and cheeky smiles, decorated each of the bandages. some of them, with stick-figure arms and legs, were playing with various sport objects, kicking balls back and forth or hitting airborne items with rackets. others were surfing or sunbathing or rollerskating. euijoo pulled his finger from his lips, breathing a soft laugh as you struggled to unwrap the bandage. "nice," he noted, softly, a smile unfurling. you held his right wrist with a shaky hand as you stuck the adhesive of the bandage to his finger, curling the hotdog-printed material around until it sat snug right above the bend. his palms were unexpectedly soft, and you wanted to kick yourself for letting your mind wander. you imagined the way they might have felt sliding up the skin of your thigh, long and svelte. you didn't even notice you were holding your breath until you were finished, until you had concealed the small cut in the most obnoxious bandage ever created and finally freed the air from your lungs.
euijoo was holding his breath, too, watching your fingertips dance around his, steady and intentional and completely opposite to the version of you that worked helplessly at the tape securing your package. you released his wrist like it burned to touch, like you'd been caught, and wiped your palms down the front of your pants, "how's that? can you bend it?" he flipped his hand in front of his face, looking at the bandage with amusement, studying every inch of the design. euijoo bent his finger, slowly, wincing in one grand, exaggerated flinch before dissolving into a chuckle, your fist meeting his shoulder in an uncharacteristic shove.
"it's good," he laughed, lightly punching your shoulder, too, "thanks."
the headphones were in perfect condition despite the trauma the cardboard endured in its delivery. euijoo had cut away enough of the tape that all you had to do was pull the lids apart. you ran a few tests, alone and in the temporary silence; the headphones enveloped your entire ears as you tapped on furniture, clapped your hands, and clicked different surfaces together. nothing. there were traces of sound, sharp notes that twinkled above the muted pulse of your heartbeat in your ears like wind chimes. but, for the most part, you couldn't hear anything.
for the most part. you should not have settled for most.
it always started slowly, in a way that, to the untrained ear, sounded like euijoo was suffering from a tummy ache and had been struck by a wave of cramps. he groaned, sighed. you tried not to imagine what he was doing, tried not to stare through the wall like you had x-ray vision. the part of you that respected his privacy squeezed your eyes shut, just in case; the part of you that was human, that couldn't resist your body's natural and completely normal reactions, slipped one cup of the headphones off your ear.
"shit," you could hear him, muffled, "just like that."
it had to be some psychological torture experiment. having a roommate who was inconsiderately loud was bad enough; the fact that he was hot made it all the more unbearable, and you wondered if he was aware of how thin the walls were or if he was arrogant enough to not care. did he know he could get away with it? you predicted the answer was yes.
the truth was that all of nicholas's friends were hot, but most of them were less pompous about it than nicholas, who was visibly conscious of his outward appeal. his wardrobe, his hair— it all screamed i know i'm hot. but you'd never tell him that. euijoo's beauty snuck up on you. when you'd first met, his tall frame seemed to have shrunk behind the cluster of boys, lingering behind the onslaught of personalities that was their friend group. you'd noticed him later, when everything grew quiet at the end of the party nico invited you to following a slightly world-altering breakup. you had only agreed to go because your ex was, unfortunately, your only friend. meeting people seemed like a great idea.
nicholas wanted you to do more than just meet people, though.
"if you ever get lonely," nicholas had started his award-winning pitch over lunch one afternoon, "euijoo's always down for a good time."
you had nearly choked on your water. euijoo seemed like the least likely out of the group to be down for a good time. especially with you, to whom he had said a total of three words. he seemed more reserved than the others; when they jumped to ask you questions, bring you drinks, and drag you to dance, euijoo had sank deeper into the couch or slumped absentmindedly against the wall. he just looked disinterested, but looks could be deceiving.
"i'm good, thanks," you had wiped the water from your mouth on the back of your hand, choking down your embarrassment.
hook-ups weren't really your thing, hence the aforementioned world-altering breakup that stemmed entirely from your inability to let someone go. you craved emotional connection, long-term stability. you couldn't get that from a one night stand. you wanted to know someone, inside and out. you realized a bit too late that the closest you had ever come to real love was your own hand brushing through your hair, massaging lotion into your damp skin every evening and gently swiping lip balm over your lips every morning. and at night, it had been your own hand stuffed down the front of your shorts bringing yourself to orgasm.
you tried to fight your body every night. the guilt started to weigh on you, like you'd been keeping a secret, like you'd totaled his car in a parking lot and left a half-assed note on his windshield. all the while, your frustration bled into something hotter. you could feel it now, the burning between your thighs, so sharp it almost hurt. and so began your nightly routine: hear him, hate him, and then join him. from the comfort of your own bed, of course, with your laptop open next to you like you'd be paying any attention at all to whatever you decided to put on.
"fuck, baby," euijoo's hoarse voice seeped sinfully through the wall, and your legs involuntarily squeezed, desperate for any friction at all. you would have never admitted it, but you kind of liked the way the guilt amplified your arousal, even if you struggled to look him in the eyes every morning. the thrill of being caught almost outweighed the fear of it.
you quickly pulled up your preferred site. preferred was a bit of a stretch as you didn't really visit many others, but this one got the job done. the interface was a bit clunky, so you were immediately met with an onslaught of streams, both pre-recorded and live, catering to any and every fetish and interest; girls in latex or draped in lace, men in costume, or masked bodies roleplaying vigilantes in the shadows— it was all there in one flashing, oversaturated place. if you weren't half-drunk on your roommate's moans, you would have been severely overwhelmed. but instead, you scrolled and scrolled with your brows furrowed, not quite sure what you were looking for. were you even looking for anything? the thrill of watching usually did it for you before any dirty talk could, mixed with the mental image of your roommate across the hall with his cock in his fist.
god, you were fucked.
you clicked one at random. it didn't matter; the throbbing in your panties promised an orgasm before the site's sponsored ads were even finished running. but, quicker than you anticipated, you were met with the live feed of the stream, of the streamer's dimly lit room. you'd never seen this camboy before, even in passing, but you were not disappointed with your impulsive choice.
user byunny's webcam was angled low, tilted meticulously to reveal only what he wanted you, vaguely speaking, to see; in pixelated, dull light, the exposed skin of his chest and stomach glowed subtly, like headlights muted in sheets of rain, and the angle accentuated the toned slopes of his stomach. he was built delicately, sculpted with a gentle hand from his ribs to his hips which jutted, helplessly, into his hand. you felt your cheeks burn as his fingers wrapped tighter around his leaking, angry cock. the tip had been long flushed red, the length of it coated sleek and throbbing. his hips stuttered with every pained stroke from base to tip, his hips lifting to meet his movements in weak, pleasure-driven thrusts. sweat rolled down the soft expanse of his stomach, rolling down the curve of his waist and disappearing into the shadows of the background. of course, you were meant to be watching his dick, perfectly centered and begging for attention, but you found yourself lost in the details; the t-shirt bunched at the top of the screen, held up by his free hand to keep the flexing muscles of his abdomen visible, the swell of his chest as he panted, as his orgasm inched closer, and his hands. they were pretty, knuckles flushed with vigor, and his fingers were long. you followed the precise bend of his wrist to the golden flat of the back of his palm, all the way to his perfectly kept nail beds, all pristine— except for one.
secured neatly around one of his fingers was a bandage. the hotdogs were roller-skating, and they were skating directly up the length of camboy byunny's twitching cock. your breath caught in your throat as the thought did more than cross your mind. no, the thought pummeled through every other idea you could have had, knocking them against the sides of your skull and shattering them into thousands of pieces. deny, deny, deny, you thought, there are reasonable explanations for this. coincidences were real; you'd been in several of them. at the store, sometimes your total was your birthday. last week, a stranger on the sidewalk had been wearing the same shoes as you. certainly, these hotdog bandages were a hot commodity among wound-havers.
but, then, there was no denying it, as you heard, through the ear that was not covered by the headphones, the ear that could hear every sound euijoo made in his room next to yours, "im coming- fuck, im coming."
approximately four seconds later, traveling the bottomless pit of latency that plummeted for miles and still didn't hold a candle to the trench in the bottom of your stomach, the man on your screen arched up into his hand, his hotdog-clad finger wrapped definitively around the base of his cock. he groaned, in a distorted, disorientingly familiar voice, "im coming- fuck, im-"
you slammed your laptop closed.
"so, you really thought he was beating it every night for fun?"
nicholas found humor in everything, somehow. even this, which you delivered in a hushed and frantic tone in the center of your favorite cafe, made him snort so loud that every head turned and looked at you. you wondered if they knew, if just by looking at you they could tell that you watched your roommate jack off online. you wondered even more if they could tell that you liked it. that was the part that scared you— you had imagined that very situation for months, privately theorizing what he might have been doing, whether he was using a toy or rutting his hips into his mattress. but, back then, you had just heard him, and the visual in your brain was blurred, as if to protect his identity from your perverted brain. seeing him felt like a major violation, even if you were one of hundreds of people watching. did they feel like this, too?
"you didn't think to mention that euijoo was…" you lowered your head to the table, catching a clear whiff of your coffee swirling in your cup as you kept your voice hushed but frantic, "a camboy? that didn't seem like vital information when i asked if there was anything i should know?"
"it's not really my place to tell you, hm?" nicholas raised an eyebrow, swirling his cup in his hand. the liquid sloshed faintly in the plastic confines as he relaxed back in the padded seating of the cafe chair, "but i personally put two and two together after four days of sleeping like shit and losing my earplugs in my pillows."
"well, what did you do?" you asked, "like, how did you get him to stop?"
"stop?" nicholas laughed again, like he was wise beyond his years, "he can't just stop, dude, that's his job. you either pretend you don't know, play dumb, or you can ask him to keep it down… every night for the rest of your lease."
you realized then why euijoo needed a new place to stay and none of his previous roommates did. nicholas was chill, of course, and didn't seem too bothered by your current situation, but the other boys had shorter tempers, less patience. the idea of euijoo being kicked out of his previous apartment made you wonder why nicholas was so insistent that he would make an excellent roommate for you. everything he had said was true; euijoo was timely with rent, and he never complained about the chores you divided equally between the two of you. it was only the constant dirty talk after sundown and the wall-shaking moaning that knocked him down a peg. and now the fact that you saw his dick and can't stop thinking about it.
"i'm so screwed," you covered your face with your hands, experiencing, for what honestly felt like the first time, darkness and peace at the same time. until your phone chimed on the table below you. with your hands still pressed firmly over your eyes, you sensed nico's hand reaching across the table to flip your phone toward him. you asked, voice muffled by your palms, "who is it?"
"the devil himself," nicholas said with a smirk, flipping the phone back toward you as you slid your hands away from your face to read the text on your lockscreen. from euijoo, a simple question: can i move your clothes out of the dryer? nicholas sipped at his coffee as he studied the way your brows furrowed, as if the question required more than a yes or no. "he's like a housewife," he sighed, almost reminiscing, "does he cook for you?"
"if i say yes, will you take him back? sounds like you really miss him," you teased, half-joking as you typed back a hurried response of 'yes,' when you actually wanted to just tell him to burn everything and forget you ever lived there, that you were moving across the country, maybe even booking a spot on the next moon landing. and then you wondered if 'yes' seemed too enthusiastic. like, yes, please look through all my clothes! so you tacked on a quick apology for a final response of 'yes, sorry.' perfect. not too excited and equally regretful.
next to your other texts, the current conversation stood out because that's what it was— a conversation. your previous messages were brief and dry, ritualistic at best, letting each other know in as few words as possible that rent was on the counter or that there were leftovers in the fridge. it was strange to receive a text asking for permission to do something as mundane as moving laundry from the dryer, which you were positive you'd done before and just left his clean clothes in a heap on the couch. it was even stranger to see your phone light up again, this time with a third text in the chain. 'don't be sorry,' it read. you visibly gulped, stomach tied in an uneasy knot. had euijoo been cloned and replaced?
nicholas downed the last of his coffee as you stared into the blinding light of your screen. he stood up, clapped one sympathetic hand on your shoulder, and said, "no, thanks," he tossed his empty cup in the trash bin by the cafe exit, "i really like my beauty sleep."
when you returned to your apartment, euijoo had made himself lunch. he stood in front of the sink, hovering over the basin where the dirty dishes once sat in stacks to catch the crumbs of his sandwich, of which there were plenty. he probably wouldn't have noticed your presence if you didn't drop your keys on the counter, the sound of the metal clanging drawing his chin over his shoulder, drawing his eyes to yours. instead of greeting you, he nodded his head toward the stove.
another sandwich, untouched and resting neatly on a napkin.
you eyed it, suspiciously.
"do you not like turkey?" euijoo asked, cheeks stuffed full of bread.
he watched as you crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between you and the sandwich and, thus, you and euijoo. you lifted the top slice of bread, examining the layers of toppings. it actually looked delicious, which surprised you less than you anticipated. "turkey's good," you gave him a small, hesitant smile, "thanks."
euijoo hummed in reponse, gaze transfixed on the shrinking space between your mouth and your lunch. he watched your lips part, watched the bread rest on the plush flesh of them as you bit into the corner of the crust. as you swallowed the first bite, he asked, "so how'd you, uh, sleep? with your new toy?"
you would have dropped the sandwich if you weren't so hyper aware of his eyes on you, of his presence so close but so far, just within arms reach. the short answer was that you didn't; the long answer was that, every time you closed your eyes, you replayed the subtle tensing and flexing of his stomach as he drove himself to orgasm, the clenching of damp honeyed skin in the dim light of his room. you slammed your laptop shut before you actually saw him tip fully over the edge, but your brain filled in the gaps until sunrise. in fact, your brain was still filling in the gaps, even standing right next to him.
"great," you lied, rotating the sandwich in your hand, looking for the next best bite. lunch and small talk. euijoo had definitely been cloned and replaced. "yeah, they were totally worth the money."
"good," he nodded, watching as you took another bite. crumbs fell like fresh snow, dusting the front of your shirt, coating the fabric pulled taut by the swell of your chest. he inhaled deeply, releasing the breath as an airy laugh, "just curious since, you know, i have a personal investment," he wiggled his bandaged finger in the space between you, just in case you might have successfully repressed the image of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the bandage stark against the flushed underside.
you laughed, too. it felt like that was all you could do. "right," you said, pushing through the heaviness in your chest, at the creeping feeling that he knew that you knew.
the two of you ate the rest of your sandwiches in silence.
that night, your clothes were folded neatly on the foot of your bed, sorted by color. this, of course, incited a new wave of daydreams, this time of the domestic variety; you pictured euijoo, laundry piled high in his arms, making the trek from the dryer to your bedroom— thinking about him in your bedroom— tucking your shirts under his chin, pairing your socks, and lining up the seams of your jeans. when he asked to move your clothes, you expected to find them in a messy pile on your bed. instead, you returned to find pristine stacks and a turkey sandwich. nicholas's voice spun in your head: he's like a housewife; does he cook for you?
whatever guilt you carried that first night dwindled over the following weeks into a hollow pang in the back of your throat, the echo of a faucet dripping in a silent and empty house. you felt fully consumed by him; euijoo was a dark cloud, rumbling thunder in the middle of the night. you had accidentally trained yourself to get turned on by your frustration, so every time you slipped into bed and placed your headphones over your ears, your core fluttered. your stomach twisted into one singular knot that only grew more complicated the longer you fended off the invasive mental images of euijoo relaxing into his pillows, almost parallel to you physically. each of you lay propped up, laptop angled toward you, your own hands unraveling that knot in synchronized rhythm.
it was nearly every night for you, too, now. you even made an account on the site to skip the ads, just so you didn't miss a single second of his stream. it amused you to see other viewers in his live chat thirsting over him, and it made you proud in a fucked up way that you knew the truth, that you knew what color his toothbrush was, that he jumped every time the toaster went ding! and that he checked over both shoulders after to make sure that no one saw. for two weeks, you tuned into his streams. for two weeks, you had let yourself succumb to the building desire you'd pushed down until you were full, spilling over. and tonight, you would do it again.
you slipped your headphones over your ears, using them now to keep your laptop's noise in rather than to keep euijoo's noise out. the shame stirred in your chest, barely noticeable but still there, as you pulled up his page and waited. you could hear him in the kitchen, filling a glass with water and slamming the cabinet a bit too harshly for the hour. but you didn't expect any less from him. the floor creaked with every step he took to his room, the hinge squeaking as he opened and closed the door behind him. you could hear him opening drawers and pushing them closed. he flipped his light switch off, and you kicked yourself at the way your heart began to thrum in your chest, how quickly your finger clicked to refresh the page.
and when user byunny finally went live, you felt every part of your body that had once been aflame run cold, the wet of your veins shattering like icicles tossed upon packed snow. you were sure you gasped out loud, mouth hanging open, at the sight before you. euijoo's streams were usually slow, starting with a teasing, casual segment that showcased the growing bulge in whatever pants he had decided to wear. sometimes, they were sweatpants; sometimes, they were printed pajamas; always, they looked damn good on him. tonight, however, there was no teasing, no slow-paced stroking or conversation. tonight, there was no clothing at all except the brightly colored panties crumpled in his fist.
"what the fuck," you mumbled to yourself, leaning in closer to the screen to examine the baby blue fabric, stark against the angry red tip of his cock. the friction was audible, layered beneath his desperate panting. it seemed like all you could do was mutter the phrase over and over to yourself as your poor, confused body decided whether to be pissed. you couldn't deny the warmth that pooled between your legs, just as you couldn't deny the burn in your cheeks as you realized he was broadcasting your underwear to all of his viewers. the heat everywhere amplified as you thought about him rummaging through your drawers, picking through pair after pair in search of those specifically. or did he get them from your laundry, which he so graciously offered to move and then fold, unprompted?
surely, it was all coincidence. it had to be a gimmick, an easy way to satisfy another viewer's request. you'd seen him try all kinds of weird things in just the short time you'd been watching. one viewer asked him to hold a spoon while he jacked off and scoop up his cum with it after. another asked him to narrate every action and voice every thought he had, and the next night wanted him silent. every wish was fulfilled without any argument, any question; his obedience was one of his favored traits among his viewers. so, it made sense to think that someone asked him to get off with a pair of underwear, and it made sense that he had snuck a pair of yours to do so. it didn't have to mean anything.
"wish this was your pussy instead of your panties- fuck," euijoo groaned, twisting the material tighter between his palm and his skin. your mouth was somehow drier than sand, throat closing despite the drool that threatened to spill from the corners of your mouth at the way the thick vein on the underside of his cock gleamed in the harsh light from his screen. the angle was the same every time, highlighting the curve of his waist around the contracting muscles of his stomach. he choked out a desperate sound, "wish it was you- wish i was, fuck, grinding my cock against your ass until i couldn't take it anymore."
was he talking about you? few other explanations held up when you looked at the facts. he was fucking your panties— who else would he be talking about? an idea flickered, arrived in a flash and left even quicker: you would knock, once, on the wall. you would knock, once, on the same wall that drove you to insanity because of just how thin it really was. realistically, he probably could have heard the blankets rustling as you lifted your arm. he could have heard the grinding of your bones in your hand as you balled your fingers into a fist. he most definitely heard the solid, singular knock that reverberated, first, through your room. it was absolute, like the final placement of an empty mug on a coaster. in your headphones, you heard the knock again, about four seconds later. if nothing else, he would take it as a noise complaint, but the way his hand slowed, the way he inhaled like it hurt, told you that euijoo took the knock exactly as you intended— an answer.
euijoo released his breath as a dry, low chuckle. "are you watching, princess?" he asked, "i kind of thought you might be, but i wasn't sure." his voice was deeper than usual, rough like pavement, and it went straight through you. the pet name, the suspicion, the way he knew what you were up to the whole time and didn't change a thing about his routine. it was shameless, confident. euijoo adjusted the panties around him, flattening the soft cotton against the length of him and letting the lace trim decorate the top of his hand. "i hope you dont mind that i borrowed these. they peek out of the top of your jeans sometimes and drive me fucking crazy." he slid his hand up and down, slowly, bunching the material with every stroke, "do you do that on purpose? knock once for yes."
to everyone else, it had to have appeared scripted. perverted roommate gets caught by other, equally perverted roommate. it was all so real, all so shocking to you; were you that oblivious? had you been too distracted by how loud and hot he was to notice that he was distracted by you, too? how many times had euijoo watched you scurry from the shower to your room, peering through the crack in his door as you held your towel up with one hand? you'd done several things to try for his attention, of course, like wearing low-cut tops when your friends went out together, sitting next to him in the backseat and asking him so, so sweetly to buckle your seatbelt for you. but none of that seemed to affect him as much as the cheap, blue panties that sat just a bit too high for your jeans. you squeezed your thighs closer together, picturing his eyes lingering on your hips every time you bent over, rummaging through the fridge for a drink or untying your shoes.
you knocked once.
"fuck, i knew it," euijoo stifled a groan, "knew you weren't as innocent as you seemed. you wouldn't be watching me if that were the case, would you?" you could hear the smirk in his voice, "wouldn't be touching yourself to me, either— timing your orgasms with mine. too fucking sweet." your chest would surely be bruised from how hard your heart was beating, leaping forward and bouncing back off your ribs in erratic jolts. euijoo whispered, like it was a secret, only meant for you, "i can hear you, too. did you know that, doll? knock."
this time, you knocked twice for no. you were nowhere near as loud as he was, even going so far as to stuff your mouth with your shirt to ensure that you were more than silent. when he heard your knocks, he squeezed his long, slender fingers around the base of his cock, jerking his hips up involuntarily.
euijoo grunted, then hummed, "mhm, i can hear every pretty little sigh, every delicious moan. like music, baby. better than fucking music. to know im helping you feel good, so good you cant even look at me the next day— fuck." he gulped down any restraint he might have had, preparing to take a leap that would either result in you in his bed or him looking for a new place to live. "i wish you were here right now, fisting my cock for me," he said, "want you to make me come, baby. would you like that, too? i'm sure my friends here wouldn't mind."
the next knock wasn't on his wall but on his door, just as you pushed it open with a shaking hand. you weren't sure what came over you, what posessed your body and carried you from your bed to his room. the version of you that texted euijoo four months ago, offering him the spare room, would have never imagined that you'd have ended up here. as the door swung open, you took your first look at his bedroom. the door was always closed, even when he was out of the apartment, taunting you like a locked chest packed full of antique treasures and baubles. even in the dim lighting, his walls were charming, decorated with posters and photos. his shelves were lined with collectibles and keepsakes. every inch of space was uniquely him, aside from the corner of the room captured by the webcam on his laptop, which was undistinguishable from any other white wall and bed with plain sheets in the world. the only thing that stood out was euijoo himself, propped up on pillows to achieve that perfect angle you'd grown so fond of.
this angle was better.
this angle, peering down at him from your place in the doorway, revealed everything you'd been deprived of through the screen. his hair was disheveled, beads of sweat bunching the ends of his bangs into jagged points that stuck out every which way against the flushed skin of his forehead. his shirt had been discarded and left in a crumpled heap on the floor next to his bed, leaving his shoulders and neck to be carved by the harsh shadows from the computer's artificial lighting. the sheen on his chest traveled all the way to the top of his hips, where he was still stroking himself in slow, languid motions, as though he were trying really hard to drag this whole situation out.
"hi, pretty," euijoo smiled, and you could see it now, so sweet, so different from the lewd scene before you, "come here. dont be shy."
you crossed the room, timidly, and closed the distance between you, swallowing your nerves like two tough, chalky pills. he tracked your every move with heavy-lidded, dark eyes. the air was thick, hot; it felt like swimming, like being boiled alive. euijoo's skin was hot, too, as you approached him on the bed and his left hand reached out to brush your arm, to coax you closer. your knees hit the side of the mattress, slightly shaking the camera, which your eyes refused to leave. you could see your shadow cast over him, suddenly aware that there was still an audience, that just because you closed your laptop to come finish the job, the hundreds of other people didn't. in fact, they tuned in, closer, more intently. you were part of the show, now, and it made your throat feel impossibly drier.
"don't worry about them," euijoo reassured you, drawing soft circles on the skin of your upper arm, "pretend they're not there. just you and me, yeah?" you wished it could have been. so badly, you wanted to be alone with him, to have this moment all to yourself. this was as good as it was going to get, at least for now.
you nodded and repeated, "just you and me," as you crawled up into his bed, your knees sinking into the plush material of the mattress. your heart sank, too, all the way to the bottom of your stomach where it pumped all the blood directly to your core.
"there you go," euijoo praised, and you visibly relaxed, "i'm all yours, baby. touch me however you want, but you know how i like it."
and then you were touching him, your hand replacing his around the base of his throbbing cock, discarding the panties altogether. you'd done nothing but touch your underwear for weeks. you wanted to feel him. euijoo hissed as the cool skin of your fingers settled on him, setting him ablaze with a scorching sensitivity. the first real contact of skin on skin, of your palm dragging aching swipes down his twitching cock. his hips lifted as your thumb smeared the pearly beads of his arousal with every stroke. your touch was gentle, but your pace was not.
"fuck, just like that," he sighed, leaning back, hands threading into the loose sheets, "feels so good."
slowly, his persona began to crumble, chipping away more and more with every jerk of your wrist, until he was putty beneath you. until he was a perfect puddle, bucking up helplessly into your hand. it felt, for a second, like it really was just the two of you. until you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the screen, and your attention flickered from watching the blissful crease in his brow deepen and smooth to the frantic, desperate motion of your hand, blurred by the stream's lag. it melted the two of you into one, a muddled and pixelated form identified as human only by the sounds euijoo was unable to hold back the closer you brought him to the edge. whines, whimpers— all softer, more raw, than the exaggerated moans and grunts he put on for the sake of his audience.
with your hand wrapped around him, he sounded like he was yours.
"i'm close," euijoo blindly pawed at the fabric of your shorts, the inner seam undoubtedly soaked, "i was close before you even started, close just thinking about you."
there was something still a little unnerving about speaking, if not because of the hundreds of viewers then because you didn't want to slip up and say something wrong, something stupid. you were distracted by the possibility of saying his name, of giving away his identity by accident and ruining everything. so, you settled for eye contact, for dragging your nails down his side and watching as the subtle red welts followed in their wake. you settled for a quiet intimacy as his plush lips fell open and you shared the same breath.
all euijoo could manage was a rushed warning, a choked, "coming-" before his hips rolled one final time into your hand, his release spurting out and over in hot streams. a constant pulse of pleasure racked through his body as you worked him, slowly, milking every last drop until he was whining, doing everything he could to not chant your name like a prayer.
you'd have taken this over a turkey sandwich any day.
your hand, covered in his cum, stilled at the base of his still twitching, sensitive cock. euijoo, with his chest still heaving, reached over and gently wiped the back of your palm with familiar soft, blue fabric. that same gentleness you'd used in the kitchen weeks ago, when he had cut his finger helping you open your package and you'd smoothed the bandage over his skin, was staring right back at you, cheeks flushed and forehead sticky with sweat.
you were panting, too, like you'd done anything but ruin the underwear you were currently wearing. everything happened so fast, so suddenly that it felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking. it was the same dream you'd drank herbal teas and massaged pressure points to avoid having every night, the one where you and euijoo ended up in a puddle of sweat. only you were awake, now, fully drunk on the scent of him, the sound of him.
and the look of him, just like the audience, which you were now acutely aware of as euijoo carefully wiped away the last of his release from your skin.
euijoo motioned vaguely toward the laptop with a nod, a confident and aimless tip of his head, "end it," he said and, with an arrogant, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his bitten lips, added "unless you want them to watch me fuck you senseless."
