⠀
⠀⠀ ROOMMATE WANTED ⠀⠀⠀ ❤︎ㅤ ⠀⠀⠀ hyung line
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒， after your rent suddenly skyrockets, you desperately accept a cheap room in an apartment shared by ej and his three friends—k, fuma, and Nicholas. You move in the same day.
at first they seem nice enough, but the masks quickly slip. your favorite panties start to go missing, someone’s laptop is left open to the most depraved hentai you’ve ever seen, one roommate has zero concept of personal space, another fucks his hookups so loud the headboard slams against your wall (you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose), and the last one has no respect for your or his privacy—giving you far too many unwanted close-ups of him jerking off.
rent's cheap… but you’re starting to realize you might be paying for more than you can handle
❪ MASTERLIST ❫ ✶ roommate!hyung line x f!r 12k wc⠀→ pure filthy smut but with plot! ░ dub con, non con elements, fuma's a bit depraved, dom!hyungline, ej is a pervert!!!, panty stealing, sub!reader, free use, spit roasting, gang bang, unprotected p in v, light choking, oral (m. & f. rec), praise kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, dacryphilia, overstimulation (m. & f. rec), come swallowing (m. & f. rec), degradation, bulge kink, spit kink, missionary, use of pet names, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (bad!!!!), marking, man handling, double penetration, choking, cumplay tit job, tit play, blowjob, handjob, cunnilingus, mean doms!, rough sex, recording, aftercare, somnophilia, size kink, reader is short, edging, pussy slapping, lots of sex (in every place, in every possible position), squirting, name calling, dry humping/grinding, marking, two faced ej & fuma, morally grey hyung line.
chapter : one , two , three
now playing : deeper by partynextdoor
REBLOG FOR ❤︎ㅤ A KISS
Your rent went up again.
Your landlord had the absolute gall to send you an email at 4:30 in the morning: “Due to market adjustments, your monthly rent will increase by $450 starting next month.” You stared at the number until the words blurred. That was half your paycheck after bills. You'd already been stretching every dollar, skipping meals some weeks, and now this.
That same night, you invited your friend Yuma over, your voice shaky as you paced your tiny studio.
“Yuma… I genuinely don’t know what to do. They raised it again. I can't afford this anymore! I'm going to end up homeless!”
"Don't panic, god," Yuma muttered. He took a long sip of his soda, the straw slurping loudly in the otherwise quiet room, then let out a long, tired sigh. His sharp, cat-like eyes watched you with a mix of concern and mild exasperation. “Seeing you freak out like this is making my head hurt."
“Listen—I might have a solution. My friend Euijoo owns this big apartment with three other guys. The rent is stupid cheap because they split it five ways now. They've been looking for a fifth roommate for a while. The place is decent, and clean-ish, and I know you might be worried because it's 4 guys, but trust me, Ej is the kindest person you’ll ever meet. He's super nice and responsible. The others are chill too, I think K, Fuma, and Nicholas are there names. want me to text Euijoo for you?”
You were desperate. You said yes without thinking twice.
Within two days, you were hauling your suitcases up the stairs with the help of Yuma.
Ej is quick to greet you, he stands there in the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, with that soft, kind boyish smile you’ve seen in the few photos Yuma had shown you. His brown hair falls slightly over his eyes, which are covered by thin-framed glasses. He’s wearing a light grey sweater, which hangs lazily off his thin body, and baggy light blue, ripped jeans that hang a bit low. low enough for you to catch sight of the brand of boxers he wears. “You must be the new roommate,” he says warmly, voice gentle and a little deep. “I’m Euijoo, but you can call me Ej if you want. Come in, come in—Yuma told me you were coming today. Is he with you?”
“Oh no, he just left. helped me bring my suitcases up, though. He said his roommate started a fire in their kitchen.” You shrug, dragging your suitcases past him and into the surprisingly spacious living room. It's cleaner than you expected for an apartment inhabited by 4 boys. The place smells faintly of cologne, laundry detergent, and something warmer, almost sweet. Sunlight pours through the large window, making the walls turn golden. It's far nicer than your old studio.
His eyes flick over you for just a second too long before he smiles again. “Must’ve been Jo. He's not the best cook. Anyway, your room’s down the hall, first door on the left. We cleared it out yesterday. You have your own bathroom, but feel free to use ours if needed. The water pressure in yours can be a bit off.”
Before you can thank him, two more figures appear from the kitchen.
One is lean and sharp-featured, with blonde hair falling over his rough-featured face, wearing a black tank top, low-slung black sweatpants that show off the chrome hearts logo, and a silver chain. He eyes you up and down with a slow, lazy smirk. “So this is the new girl. I’m Nicholas."
The other one is maybe an inch or two taller, broader in the chest, with dark hair and a soft gaze. He's in a tight white shirt that shows that he definitely goes to the gym. “Fuma,” he says simply, voice deep and a bit raspy, gaze lingering on your legs before he nods once.
“Ah, yeah!” Ej’s voice raises slightly, still holding that sweet and gentle tone, “K isn’t here. He works a lot, so he’s rarely around. But you’ll probably get to meet him tomorrow.”
He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it had earlier.
You force a smile, trying to ignore the way the air suddenly feels heavier. “Thanks again for letting me move in so fast. I really appreciate it. I needed this.”
“No problem,” Ej says, that kind smile still in place as he grabs two of your heavier suitcases like they weigh nothing. “Let me help you get settled.”
He leads you down the hallway, the others watching you go.
Your new room is small but cute—the movers had already placed the larger items from your previous studio in it. The big window with a decent view catches your eye first, a beautiful view of Tokyo shining into your room. Ej sets the suitcases down and lingers in the doorway for a moment.
“If you need anything… anything at all,” he says softly, eyes warm, “just knock on my door. I’m right across the hall.”
He gives you one last gentle smile before closing the door behind him.
You exhale, finally alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
That illusion lasts exactly five hours.
You’re unpacking when you hear it.
The first moan is low, muffled through the wall—coming from the room that sits next to yours. then another, louder. a girl’s voice, breathy and desperate.
thud. thud. thud.
The headboard starts slamming against the shared wall between your room and his. rhythmically. Hard.
You freeze with a folded shirt in your hands.
“Oh fuck—nicho!—right there—”
The moans get louder, wetter. The sound of the bed creaking violently spills in through the thin walls. You can hear the sound of skin slapping skin, the girl crying out every time the headboard hits your shared wall. The noises are so loud that you can even hear them over the music blasting in your headphones, but you don't say anything. You simply turn the music up and try to ignore the obscene noises from next door.
Twenty minutes later, when the girl finally leaves (you hear the front door close), Nicholas walks past your open door shirtless, sweat glistening on his chest, sharp gaze upon you, face remaining still as if he hadn’t been blowing someone's back out just minutes ago.
He pauses, just for a second, before leaning against your doorframe.
“Need help with anything?” he asks innocently, voice soft. His eyes drop. curse him for being extremely attractive, you think. eyes trailing over the sharp lines of his abs, the deep V-line disappearing under the waistband of his black Chrome Hearts boxers.
“N-no, I’m good,” you mumble.
He just nods, still smiling. “Cool. dinner’s in an hour if you want to join us. gonna order pizza.”
The first night passed in uneasy fragments of sleep; it’s not like you weren't tired—you were exhausted, but every creak in the apartment made you tense. The headboard incident from Nicholas’s room still echoed in your mind, but after he’d casually invited you to pizza as if nothing had happened, the rest of dinner had been… normal. almost too normal. Ej kept refilling your water with that gentle smile. Fuma spoke in short, low sentences but offered you the last slice without a word. Nicholas joked about how bad Tokyo traffic is while sprawled on the floor, his shirt still missing, but he never once looked at you for longer than a second.
You told yourself it was just first-day jitters. You were overthinking it. They were guys, of course, there would be situations like that. The rent was cheap. You could handle mild awkwardness if it meant not being homeless.
That’s what you told yourself.
The morning light filtered through your thin pink curtains, painting golden stripes across the boxes you still hadn’t unpacked. Your phone read 7:42 a.m. Your stomach growled, pulling on an oversized hoodie and loose shorts—nothing revealing—you padded barefoot toward the kitchen, hoping to slip in and out quietly.
The scene that greeted you was unexpectedly domestic.
EJ stood at the stove in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, rolling eggs into gyeran-mari with careful precision. His brown hair was still sleep-mussed, glasses perched on his nose. he looked up when you entered and offered that same soft, boyish smile from yesterday.
“Morning. Sleep okay? The walls here are pretty thin. Sorry if you heard anything last night.”
Your stomach twisted. He said it so casually, like he was apologizing for a noisy neighbor instead of his roommate’s loud, explicit hookup that echoed through the shared wall. You forced a small laugh.
“Oh yeah, it’s fine. I had headphones.”
Ej nodded, eyes crinkling kindly behind his lenses. “Good. We try to keep it down, but Nicholas gets… enthusiastic.” he plated two slices of gyeran-mari and slid them toward you with a fork. “Here. consider it an apology breakfast for Nicho’s behavior.
You murmured a small thanks and took the plate, perching on one of the mismatched barstools at the counter. The kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked for four guys: fresh vegetables in the fridge, containers labeled in a mix of Japanese characters and hangul littered around the kitchen. A bottle of Taiwanese chili sauce sat near the stove, next to a half-empty jar of gochujang that had clearly seen frequent use.
Fuma appeared next, broad shoulders filling the doorway. He wore a tight black compression shirt that clung to the gym-honed chest you’d noticed yesterday, along with black shorts. He mumbled a quiet “good morning” in that deep, raspy voice, then opened the fridge and pulled out a protein shake without looking at you directly.
But when he shook the bottle, his gaze flicked to your bare legs where they dangled from the stool. just for a second. then to Ej.
“Going to the gym. Need me to pick anything up on my way back?”
EJ wiped his hands on a dish towel, thinking for a moment. “We’re low on eggs and milk. maybe some more rice if you see the kind we normally get—and grab whatever snacks you want. new roommate might like something sweet after all the moving stress.”
Fuma’s eyes shifted to you again—brief, unreadable—before he nodded once. “Got it,” as he turned to leave, his broad frame passed close behind your stool. The fabric of his compression shirt lightly brushed your shoulder, warm from his body heat. He didn’t apologize or acknowledge it.
Nicholas finally shuffled in a few minutes later, yawning widely, hair sticking up in every direction. he was shirtless again, black sweatpants slung dangerously low. The silver chain dangling around his neck caught the morning light as he scratched his stomach absently.
“Juju, cooking? wow. He must like you, roomie.” he reached over and stole a piece of egg from the edge of your plate with his fingers, popping it into his mouth with a grin. “You look like you actually slept. Headphones must be noise-canceling.” his tone was playful and carefree.
You shifted on the stool. “They’re decent.”
EJ signed, swatting Nicholas’s hands from your plate before shoving his own plate towards him. “Be nice, Nicho. She just got here. don’t scare her off before the week is over.”
You kept your gaze on your food, cutting another small bite of the gyeran-mari. It really was good—fluffy, perfectly seasoned. Ej was watching you with that same kind, eye crinkling smile, waiting for your reaction.
“It’s delicious, Euijoo,” you said quietly. “Thank you.”
Ej’s shoulders relaxed a little, as if your approval mattered. “Glad you like it. I can make it again tomorrow if you want. Or try something else—I know how to cook some Japanese dishes too.”
Fuma had already disappeared down the hallway toward the front door, gym bag slung over one broad shoulder. The apartment felt a fraction less crowded without his quiet, heavy presence, but the air still hummed with the low energy of the three remaining men.
Nicholas finished his water and set the glass down with a soft clink. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. " Don’t miss me too much,” he teases, before sauntering off towards the bathroom. Ej chuckles softly, picking up Nicholas’s now-empty plate and turning to the sink. “He grows on you. eventually,” he sighs, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge. “If the noise from his room keeps bothering you, we can switch rooms. mine’s on the other side of the apartment. quieter.”
You shook your head quickly, waving both your hands. “No, no, it’s okay. really. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“It’s not trouble,” ej said gently, his voice warm and reassuring. He adjusted his glasses, brown hair falling slightly over his eyes. “We want you to feel comfortable here. That’s the whole point of splitting rent five ways—everyone gets a good deal and a good home.”
The way he said it sounded so sincere. His eyes met yours for a long moment, soft and earnest behind the thin frames. Then he smiled again and went back to washing the plate, humming a quiet tune.
You finished eating and rinsed your plate, placing it carefully in the drying rack. As you turned to leave the kitchen, EJ’s hand brushed your lower back—light, guiding, the same polite gesture he’d used yesterday when showing you to your room.
“Careful, the floor might be slippery. I spilled something and had to clean it. It might still be a bit wet,” he murmured. His fingers lingered just a second longer than strictly necessary before pulling away. “Have a good shift at work today. text the group chat if you need anything—train directions, umbrella if it rains, whatever.” You paused, brows furrowing for just a second before relaxing. You hadn’t mentioned your job schedule yet, but you just chalked it up to Yuma, who must’ve told them. “Thanks… yeah, it’s a long one today. café closes at 9.”
Ej nodded, that kind smile never wavering. “We’ll save you some dinner if you’re late. leftovers heat up easily.”
You changed into your work uniform—a simple black polo and dark jeans—and headed out, the morning Tokyo streets already buzzing. Your shift at the small café in Shibuya was familiar: endless orders, steaming milk, wiping tables, sore feet by hour four. The pay was mediocre, the tips inconsistent, but it kept you afloat. well—before.
With your new living situation, things felt a little lighter. more manageable. You didn’t have to count every coin anymore.
So today, instead of settling for a single fruit sando from the convenience store, you let yourself splurge—ordering a warm, filling katsu curry, the kind that actually made the long shift feel a bit worth it.
When you dragged yourself back to the apartment around 9:30 p.m., exhausted and smelling faintly of coffee and vanilla syrup, the place was warmly lit.
EJ appeared in the hallway almost immediately, wiping his hands on a towel. eyes turning into crescent moons as he greeted you, he was in another soft sweater, sleeves pushed up, glasses slightly askew. “Hey, you’re back. long day?”
You nodded, taking off your shoes, carefully placing them next to someone's Rick Owens—probably Nicholas’s, remembering back to the photos Yuma had shown you. “Yeah. busy rush tonight.”
He smiled softly. “We saved you a plate—bulgogi and rice. Fuma picked up some extra side dishes on his way back from the gym.” His eyes flicked over your tired frame, lingering on the way your shoulders slumped. “Go sit. I’ll heat it for you.”
Before you could protest, he was already moving toward the kitchen. You followed wearily and sank onto the couch in the living room. Nicholas was sprawled on the floor, playing a game on his phone, shirtless as per usual. He glanced up with that lazy smirk.
Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, soft sounds emanating from the switch in his big hands. He gave you a quiet nod, dark gaze resting on you for a beat longer than casual.
K wasn’t home yet—still at one of his late training sessions, EJ explained when he brought your warmed plate. The bulgogi was perfectly reheated, savory, and tender. You ate gratefully while the others kept the conversation light: Nicholas complaining about losing a game, Fuma showing you the Pokémon he just caught, and of course, EJ refilling your water with that gentle, reassuring presence. You wondered if it would always be like this.
When you finished, EJ took the plate without being asked. “Nicholas’s will wash this.” Before the blonde boy could protest, EJ shot him a glare before continuing. “You should rest. shower’s free—the big one has better pressure after a long day on your feet.”
You thanked him and headed to your room to grab clothes. As you passed the laundry area, the washing machine was running again. Ej’s voice floated from the kitchen: “If you have work clothes that need washing, just leave them out. I do a load most nights.”
The offer was practical. kind, even. So you said yes, not thinking anything of it.
The next morning, you woke to the sound of your alarm and the faint smell of coffee drifting down the hall.
When you shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie, K was finally there.
He was taller than you expected—easily over 185 cm—soft, youthful face with gentle features. This was the 28-year-old? god, did he look young. He wore a black tank top that clung to his broad shoulders and gym shorts that did nothing to hide the thick muscle in his thighs.
He was standing at the counter, pouring himself a protein shake, when his gaze slid over to you.
“Morning,” he said, smoothly, and he gave you a gentle smile. EJ appeared right behind you, carrying two mugs. “Ah, you met K. He got in late last night.” he set one mug in front of you, “I made you matcha.”
When did you tell him you liked matcha?
You didn’t. You were sure of it. But you decided to let it go; maybe you had forgotten. Maybe Yuma had mentioned it when he set this up. Or maybe you’d said something half-asleep during dinner last night and just didn’t recall. It was fine. EJ was just… thoughtful. That was all.
So you never questioned these small things.
For the first two weeks, your laundry is returned by EJ without incident. Everything comes back clean, folded, exactly as expected—until one day, a pair of pale pink panties is missing. You don’t mention it to anyone, brushing it off as one of those small, annoying mysteries, convincing yourself the washing machine must have eaten them. But it keeps happening. a lacey black pair, a soft pastel blue pair with a bow in the middle, and even a plain white cotton pair adorned with cute bunnies.
You find one pair, though, folded neatly on top of the dryer, smelling faintly like his detergent… and something else.
When you mention it casually at dinner, whispering it to EJ, he tilts his head, that gentle smile in place, brown eyes soft behind his glasses.
“Laundry mix-ups happen a lot here,” he says kindly. “If anything of yours ends up missing again, just ask. It might've ended up with one of us.”
He says it so sweetly, it almost sounds innocent. That’s why you simply let it go.
You stand up to rinse your plate, when K’s slim but well-defined frame is suddenly right behind you at the sink. His chest brushes your back as he reaches over you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You felt the heat of him, smelled the musky, dry, woody aroma of his cologne. He didn’t apologize for crowding you.
You froze, plate still in your hands under the running water. shifting on your feet, as he stands there, tall body caging you against the counter for a long second. His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, close enough that his forearm brushed your side.
And then you felt it.
the unmistakable, heavy outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass.
It was thick—even through the thin material of his gym shorts and your sleep shorts, you could feel the weight and the slow, deliberate twitch as it nestled firmer against you. not fully hard, but definitely not soft.
He didn’t say anything. he simply reached a little higher for the glass, his hips shifting just enough to let his heavy cock drag slowly along your ass—one lazy, unhurried stroke—before he finally stepped back with the glass in hand.
“Excuse me,” his voice soft, steady—that gentle smile still on his face when you peek over your shoulder. His eyes were soft, almost innocent, as if nothing had happened. As if his half-hard length hadn’t been pressed against the flush of your ass.
You told yourself it was an accident.
Just like the missing panties.
All of it.
You kept repeating it like a quiet mantra every time another small thing happened.
The next morning was no different than the last.
You shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie. The matcha was already waiting on the counter, the smell of steamed rice and miso soup filling the air. ej shot you that soft, almost shy smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Morning, y/n.”
K stood nearby, pouring his protein shake. When you moved to the sink to rinse your empty mug, he stepped in behind you without a word. ‘Again?’ you thought, his tall frame crowded the small space, chest lightly brushing your back as he reached for a spoon from the drawer beside you. the warm, solid press of his body, and then—just for a heartbeat—the heavy, half-hard weight of his cock resting against the upper curve of your ass through his thin gym shorts. It twitched once, slow and subtle, before he grabbed the spoon and stepped away as if nothing had happened.
You quickly stepped away from the sink, cheeks still faintly warm, and sat back down at the counter to finish your breakfast. Ej slid a fresh bowl of miso soup toward you, the steam curling gently between you both.
Before you could even pick up your spoon, Nicholas leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs, flashing you a cheeky grin. EJ immediately scolded him in that gentle, fond way of his, reaching over to lightly smack the back of Nicholas’s hand with a pair of chopsticks. “Leave her food alone, you gremlin.”
The kitchen filled with their familiar bickering and soft laughter again, the easy rhythm of morning chaos wrapping around you like a blanket. So you tried to let it pull you back in, not to let the strange tension from your moment with K linger in your chest… but the faint heat on your cheeks refused to fade completely.
Fuma was sitting in the armchair across the living room, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed posture, switch held loosely in his big hands. When the conversation lulled, he glanced at you and muttered in his low, raspy voice, “You play games?”
You nodded lightly. “Yeah. When I'm not busy, I used to play a lot more, though.”
He didn’t say anything else, picking up his phone from the side table and holding it out toward you.
“Here,” he said simply. “New trailer dropped. Looks good.”
You leaned forward a bit to see the screen. It was a gaming Twitter post — a short clip of an upcoming horror game. You hummed in agreement, “Yeah, the graphics are nice…”
Fuma’s thumb scrolled down slowly once, showing a couple of comments.
Then the feed auto-refreshed.
The screen suddenly jumped to the next post in his timeline.
It was a drawing—extremely graphic and depraved one at that. a girl bent over, face pressed into the sheets, tears streaming down her cheeks while a much larger man fucked her roughly from behind, hand fisted in her hair. The art was very detailed, glossy, and unmistakably intense: drool, flushed skin, visible bulge in her stomach, the whole scene dripping with depravity.
But Fuma didn’t flinch; he didn’t even snatch the phone away or apologize. He simply kept holding it steady for another second before he tapped once, closing the app without a word, and lowered the phone back to the armrest like nothing had happened.
“Anyway,” he grunted quietly, already looking back at his switch. The trailer was decent. think I’ll check the game out when it's released. Let me know if you want to play it with me.”
His voice stayed low and even. no embarrassment. no explanation. just that heavy, quiet stare lingering on you for a brief moment before he returned to his game.
You quickly sat back, taking a sip of water to hide the flush creeping up your neck.
You told yourself it was an accident.
He’s a guy, of course, he watches porn.
even if it’s extremely graphic and kinda vile porn. People have their preferences. You had no room to judge.
Plus, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Twitter’s algorithm was unpredictable, especially if he followed random accounts. He probably didn’t even notice what popped up before he closed it.
just an accident.
like everything else.
That night, the headboard still tapped rhythmically against your shared wall with Nicholas; it wasn’t the violent slamming from the first few days. The rhythm was slower, more controlled now. The girl’s moans were much quieter—soft, breathy little whimpers that barely made it through the wall, almost like she was trying to stay silent. But Nicholas was a bit louder tonight.
Every few minutes, his low, rough groans carried clearly through the thin barrier.
“fuck… yeah, just like that.”
a slow, heavy thump of the headboard.
“shit, you’re squeezing me so good…”
another groan, louder this time, rough around the edges.
You lie in the dark, frozen under your covers, heart beating faster with every sound. The girl stayed muffled and quiet, but Nicholas didn’t seem to care as much tonight. His voice kept slipping through—low, filthy, and unfiltered.
“Take it deeper, baby… good girl. just like that.”
You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore it.
It didn’t work.
Nicholas groaned again, louder, the sound vibrating through the wall straight into your core.
“fuuuck… that’s it. so fuckin’ wet for me.”
god, you hadn’t gotten off since you moved in here.
between the long shifts, the constant low-level tension in the apartment, and the way every small “accident” left you flustered and restless, you simply hadn’t had the chance. Now, lying in the dark with your door locked, the faint rhythmic tapping and Nicholas’s low, filthy murmurs were making it impossible to ignore how empty and needy you felt.
You told yourself you’d just ignore it.
You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow.
But the sounds kept coming—almost slow, deliberate, and teasing.
another low groan. Another soft “good girl” that sounded far too close,
your hand slipped under the waistband of your sleep shorts before you could talk yourself out of it.
You were already wet. embarrassingly so.
Your fingers found your swollen clit and started rubbing slow, tight circles. You bit your lip hard to stay quiet, eyes squeezed shut as you listened to the muffled rhythm next door.
You told yourself the walls were just thin.
Every rough groan from Nicholas made your fingers move faster. Every lazy, vague praise pushed you higher.
Your breath hitched, hips rocking subtly against your hand, chasing the friction. the pent-up need that flooded you.
“Yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”
You imagined it was you he was talking to.
You imagined it was your pussy he was buried in, his hips snapping against you with that same controlled rhythm, his voice dropping to that filthy whisper right beside your ear.
“Such a good girl for me…”
You imagined his voice was for you—that deep, satisfied tone praising you while he fucked you slow and deep.
Your thighs trembled as you rubbed faster, two fingers pressing firm circles while your other hand gripped the sheets. The headboard’s soft tapping matched the pace you set with your fingers, and every low groan from Nicholas pushed you closer.
It didn’t take long.
Your thighs are trembling—fingers rubbing harder, slick sounds barely audible under the blanket. Nicholas let out another low, drawn-out groan — fFuck… gonna cum” — it tipped you over the edge.
You came hard, back arching off the bed, letting out a small whimper as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around nothing, thighs shaking while you rode it out with frantic little circles on your clit.
through you, thighs shaking as you rode it out with small, desperate circles of your fingers.
When it finally faded, you collapsed back against the pillows, breathing hard, heart hammering against your ribs.
The apartment had gone quiet. Nicholas’s session must have ended while you were lost in it.
You lie there in the dark, chest rising and falling, a mix of relief and deep shame washing over you.
You had just gotten off to the sound of your roommate fucking someone else through the wall. god, maybe you were the pervert.
You got off to his voice calling someone else a good girl.
But you just told yourself it was nothing.
just stress relief.
just thin walls and a long dry spell.
It didn’t mean anything.
The next evening you came home late, you went straight to shower and then to drop your dirty work clothes in the laundry basket, Ej was already there sorting a load. He was humming softly, folding things with careful hands. When he picked up one of your smaller items—a pair of pale pink panties adorning pretty delicate bows—he paused for the briefest moment. His thumb brushed over the fabric once, almost absentmindedly, before he brought it closer to his face under the pretense of checking a stain. He inhaled quietly, slowly, then folded it neatly and placed it on the growing stack.
He never turned around. He never knew you were watching from the hallway.
You told yourself he was just being thorough.
For the next three days, everything felt almost… normal.
The apartment settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Mornings started with Ej already in the kitchen, pushing his glasses up his nose as he slid a fresh cup of matcha or a bowl of miso soup toward you with that quiet, warm smile—eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Morning, y/n,” he’d say gently, voice warm like he really meant it. K would nod at you from across the counter as he mixed his protein shake, his tall frame relaxed rather than crowding. Nicholas kept blatantly stealing your food, ignoring how EJ berated him for it. Fuma seemed a bit more comfortable. no longer just staring quietly from the armchair; he would engage in small banter with you, or even, when he came home with various packs of Pokémon hard, he would occasionally ask you if you wanted to open them with him.
Your laundry came back clean and neatly folded on your bed—panties occasionally going missing, but not as frequently as before. The headboard in Nicholas’s room stayed mercifully quiet; he even mentioned in passing that his “friend” was out of town for a few days. No accidental brushes at the sink. No graphic hentai flashing on anyone’s phone. no heavy outlines pressing against you in the kitchen.
You started to breathe a little easier. Maybe the first couple of weeks had just been an adjustment period—four guys suddenly sharing space with a girl. Maybe you really had been overthinking everything.
That illusion lasts exactly 3 days.
On the fourth night, you came home exhausted from another long shift, legs aching and eyes burning. You barely managed a quick shower before collapsing onto the living room couch instead of dragging yourself all the way to your room. Your oversized sleep shirt rode up slightly as you curled into the soft cushions, the low murmur of the guys playing games somewhere in the background wrapping around you like white noise. Within minutes, you were out cold.
You didn’t remember falling asleep.
When you woke sometime deep in the night, the apartment was dark except for the faint blue glow of a Switch screen. a warm blanket had been carefully draped over your body, tucked gently around your shoulders and legs, as if someone had taken real care. For a second, it felt comforting—until you shifted under the fabric.
Your sleep shorts were twisted awkwardly high on one thigh, the thin material bunched and pulled tighter than you remembered leaving them. And there, near the inner seam close to the crease of your thigh, was a faint damp spot. The fabric felt slightly stiff, cooler in that one place, like something warm and sticky had been pressed there and left behind to dry. Your stomach gave a quiet, uneasy flutter. You hadn’t been sweating, the rest of your body proof of that, as you didn’t feel any sweat on your skin. You were almost certain the spot hadn’t been there when you fell asleep.
Across from you, Fuma sat slumped in the oversized armchair, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed, dominating posture. The switch rested loosely in his hands, the low volume of what you think is Pokémon barely audible. His face was half-lit by the screen, expression calm and completely absorbed, as if he’d been sitting there the entire time.
He must have felt you stir because he glanced over, warm brown eyes meeting yours without surprise. His voice came out low and raspy, even and unbothered, like he was simply stating a fact.
“You looked cold,” he said simply, thumb still moving over the controls. “I figured I’d cover you.”
You blinked slowly, still groggy, pulling the blanket a little higher as you tried to subtly adjust your twisted shorts beneath it. The damp patch brushed against your skin again—unmistakable now, warm against your inner thigh. Your cheeks burned. had he…?
You internally shake your head. god, Fuma isn’t a pervert. He would never. The dampness was probably just… condensation. Or maybe sweat from the warm blanket that covered your body. or even your imagination running wild because of all those tiny “accidents” from before.
You tried to convince yourself. You really did.
Sleep didn’t come back easily. Every time you shifted under the blanket, the damp spot on your shorts brushed against your inner thigh again. The blue glow from Fuma’s Switch flickered across the dark living room. He hadn’t moved, legs still spread wide, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other tapped at the controls. In the low light, you could see the outline of his cock through the thin material of his sweatpants—half-hard, resting thick against his inner thigh.
god, was he big.
Even soft—well, mostly soft—the heavy shape of him was impossible to ignore. not too long but most definitely thick, the shaft lying diagonally down his leg, the head nudging noticeably against the fabric. You could make out the faint ridge where the bulbous, swollen tip pressed outward, and the way the material stretched slightly over the girth. it looked… heavy. The kind of thick that would stretch you open, make your thighs tremble just trying to take him. The kind of size that would leave a visible bulge in your stomach if he ever pushed all the way in.
Your mouth went dry. ok well, now you were the pervert. definitely the pervert. First getting off to Nicholas’s sexual escapades to thinking Fuma was to defile you, and now staring intently at his dick like some desperate, touch-starved mess.
You told yourself to stop staring, to look away, but your eyes kept drifting back. How was something that thick even real? You’d felt K press against you before, but this… this was on another level. Fuma wasn’t even fully hard yet, and he already looked like he could ruin you.
Before your mind could wander any further, you swallowed and sat up slowly, keeping the blanket wrapped around your waist as you tried to fix your twisted shorts without drawing attention. The movement made the damp fabric drag across your pussy, and you froze. There was another spot right there—right against your covered folds. When you glanced down under the edge of the blanket, you could see the faint stain; it wasn't just damp. It was slick.
You decided to ignore it, chalk it up to another accident. Just as you did everything else that had occurred whilst you lived here.
You forced your gaze away from the sticky mess between your legs and pulled the blanket higher, pretending the warm, tacky smear of cum wasn’t slowly soaking through the thin cotton and coating your pussy lips. You told yourself it was sweat. condensation. anything but what it clearly was—thick ropes of someone’s load rubbed right against your most sensitive skin while you slept.
You forced yourself to stand up on shaky legs, clutching the blanket tightly around your waist like a shield. The damp, sticky fabric of your shorts clung obscenely to your pussy as you moved, the thick smear of cum sliding wetly between your folds with every step. It felt warm and tacky, meaning that this had occurred recently.
The short walk down the hallway felt endless. Your bare feet padding softly against the floor, the sticky drag between your legs was impossible to forget. You slipped inside and closed the door behind you a little too quickly, leaning back against the wood as you finally let the blanket drop. The cool air hit your skin, but it did nothing to calm the burning between your legs.
You barely had a moment to steady yourself before a soft, firm knock sounded on the door.
Without waiting for an answer, the knob turned. Fuma stood there, filling the doorway with his tall frame. In his large hand was your phone, screen dark. He held it out toward you, his expression calm and unreadable as always.
“You left this on the couch,” he said, voice low and raspy, barely above a murmur.
His eyes flicked down for a second, just once—slow, heavy—landing on the obvious damp patch darkening the crotch of your sleep shorts. he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t need to. The glossy cum stain was unmistakable in the dim light of your room, the thin fabric clinging to your folds where someone's cum had soaked through while you slept.
He stepped just inside the doorway, not fully entering but close enough that the air felt heavier. He extended the phone a little further, his gaze lifting back to your face after that single, deliberate glance. “Didn’t want you waking up without it,” he added quietly.
You took the phone with quick fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they wouldn’t quite stop trembling. He lingered there for a moment longer, tall and silent, his expression as neutral as ever. His eyes flicked down once more—brief, almost casual—before returning to yours.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, voice low and even. “It looked like you were having a hard time sleeping out there.”
The question was simple. polite, even. But it carried a weight that made your stomach tighten.
You managed a small nod, clutching the phone against your chest like a lifeline. “I’m fine. just tired. long day at work.”
Fuma hummed softly, the sound barely audible. He gave one slow nod, then took a half-step back toward the hallway, though he didn’t turn to leave just yet. His muscular frame still filled most of the doorway, the faint outline in his sweatpants visible in the low light.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
With that, he finally turned and pulled the door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving you alone in your room once more.
You told yourself it was nothing.
Somehow, just another accident.
like everything else so far had been.
It was a little past midnight. You couldn’t sleep. Honestly, you hadn’t really been able to sleep these last few days. You’d been tossing and turning, mind replaying too many small things at once—k’s heavy cock dragging against your ass at the sink that morning, ej’s quiet inhale over your panties, nicholas’s low “good girl” through the wall two nights ago, and now the concept that fuma had come on your shorts whilst you were sleeping. the same shorts discarded next to your bed.
The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Thirsty and restless, you slipped out of bed in just your oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, padding barefoot toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
The hallway was dark, but K’s door was slightly ajar— just a few inches.
You almost walked past.
But then you heard it.
A low, slow, controlled breath. Then your name.
You froze mid-step.
through the narrow gap, the dim light from his bedside lamp spilled out. There he was, pressed against his headboard, completely naked. long legs spread wide.
His hand was wrapped around his cock.
He was stroking himself with slow, deliberate movements—long strokes from base to tip, thumb lingering over the flushed head every time. His cock was long and, dare you say, pretty; it looked bigger than it had felt pressed against your ass. The veins stood out clearly along the shaft, the head flushed dark and glistening with precum.
K’s head was tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded, but his expression wasn’t lost in pleasure as you’d expect. It was calm. almost focused. That same gentle, youthful face he always showed you in the mornings—soft features, quiet composure—was still there while he pumped his thick cock in his fist. You would’ve walked away if it weren't for your name slipping from his mouth amongst the soft moans escaping him.
It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but you heard it clearly.
His voice was low and smooth, the same gentle tone he used when he said “excuse me” at the sink. Except now it was laced with something heavier, something hungry.
He stroked himself a little slower, dragging his hand down the full length as he breathed your name again, softer this time.
“Fuuck… y/n…”
Your stomach dropped. heat flooding your face and warmth pooling low between your thighs. You stood frozen in the dark hallway, unable to look away as K continued touching himself— calm, controlled, and breathing out your name as a prayer.
His thumb circled the leaking head once more, spreading the precum before he gave himself another long, smooth stroke. His hips twitched up slightly into his fist, but his expression stayed almost serene, like he was savoring it.
He moaned your name again, quieter, almost reverent.
“…love that cute little ass… bet you’d feel so tight around me…”
Your breath caught.
For the first time, one of the “accidents” no longer felt like an accident at all.
And that was confirmed as he looked straight at you through the gap in the door. He didn’t stop, nor did he flinch. he didn’t even look embarrassed. He simply kept stroking—slow, steady, unhurried—while his dark gaze locked onto yours. The corner of his mouth lifted into that same gentle, almost innocent smile he always gave you when he “accidentally” crowded you at the sink.
You were no longer thirsty.
Reality had crashed back in.
Heart pounding, face burning, you tore your eyes away from the sight of k slowly stroking his thick cock while groaning your name, and turned sharply on your heel.
You walked away.
Fast.
The second you closed the door, you locked it with shaking fingers and leaned your back against the wood, breathing hard.
Thighs pressed tightly together. The warmth between your legs hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.
You could still hear his voice in your head.
“…God…Wanna fuck those pretty tits too.”
“…Bet you’d feel so tight around me…”
You squeezed your eyes shut and slid down the door until you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest.
You told yourself it was nothing. just another accident. just guys being guys. But this time the lie tasted bitter.
because he had looked straight at you. he had moaned your name. he had smiled that gentle smile while he stroked his cock.
And you had stood there and watched for much longer than you should have. You don't get any sleep that night.
The next morning came far too soon.
You woke up with a heavy, restless feeling in your chest and an annoying ache between your legs that refused to disappear completely. The memory of K’s calm face and the slow, deliberate way he stroked his cock while moaning your name kept flashing behind your eyes every time you blinked.
You told yourself to act normal.
You told yourself nothing had changed.
You told yourself it was still just an accident.
But even your body didn’t believe you.
You shuffled into the kitchen in your usual sleep shorts and oversized hoodie, trying to keep your steps light and your face neutral.
The familiar scent of fried eggs over rice hit you before you even fully entered the room.
Ej was already at the stove, his glasses falling onto the tip of his nose as he greeted you with a smile. “Morning, y/n. matcha’s ready for you,” he said gently, setting the mug down on the counter exactly where you normally sat
K was standing a few feet away, sipping his americano when you walked in. He looked up and gave you that same gentle, youthful smile—calm, composed, almost sweet, as usual. an expression you’d become accustomed to. just not when his hand was wrapped around his veiny length. “Morning,” he said smoothly, his voice low and kind, as always.
But his eyes lingered. tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.
Your eyes met, just for a second. just long enough for you to remember how those same dark eyes had looked at you through the gap in his door last night while his hand moved slowly up and down his wet cock.
You forced a small nod, putting on your best “oh, I'm completely okay, definitely not spiraling over seeing my extremely attractive roommate jerk off whilst he moans my name” face and mumbled “morning” before quickly moving to sit at the counter, keeping your gaze fixed on the matcha mug.
Nicholas wandered in a minute later, black tank hugging his well-built frame, baggy jeans just low enough to show off the expensive underwear he wore, silver chain catching the light. He stretched lazily, yawning, then shot you a lazy smirk. “You look a little tired, short stuff. rough night?”
You nearly choked on your first sip of matcha.
Fuma was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he was at the gym, and it even worked. Even with one of the four missing, the kitchen felt a lot smaller than usual.
When you stood up to rinse your empty mug, your stomach tightened.
K moved at the same time.
He stepped in right behind you at the sink, tall frame crowding your space like he always did. His chest brushes your back. You felt the heat of him immediately, along with the faint scent of his woody cologne.
His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, and then you felt it again, the heavy, half-hard outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass. again.
But this time it felt different.
He didn’t make it quick. He let himself linger for far longer than necessary. letting his length rest along your ass for a long second, thick and warm, before slowly rolling his hips once—a lazy, deliberate drag along your ass that made your breath hitch. “Excuse me,” he murmured softly near your ear, voice gentle and polite like always.
But you could hear the faint smile in it now. like he knew you had seen him last night. almost as if he knew you had stood there and watched him stroke his cock while he whispered your name. almost like he was reminding you.
K stayed pressed against you for another heartbeat, letting you feel the full weight and warmth of him, before he finally stepped back with the glass he’d been “reaching” for. You quickly rinsed your mug, hands slightly shaky, and sat back down without looking at anyone.
The rest of breakfast passed in a haze. You barely tasted the food that EJ had made. Every time K moved or spoke in that calm, gentle voice, your mind flashed back to the night before—his long, wet, pretty cock easily sliding through his fist, the soft way he moaned your name, eyebrows crinkled with his head thrown back.
You left for work as quickly as possible, mumbling a quiet goodbye.
The entire shift dragged. Your mind kept drifting. You burned two orders of tonkatsu, and the latte art, which you usually excel at, looked as if it were made by a kindergartner with two left hands. and nearly dropped a tray because you couldn’t stop replaying the low, controlled way K had whispered “y/n…” while stroking himself.
By the time you got home that evening, you were exhausted, frustrated, and unbearably pent up.
The apartment felt empty when you stepped inside. You glanced at the front door—no shoes on you. No Rick Owens, no adidas, no gym sneakers, or running shoes, nothing. No lights on in the living room. No familiar sounds coming from the kitchen or any of the bedrooms. You assumed everyone was still out—probably at the gym, working, running errands, or wherever they usually disappeared to in the evenings. You let out a small sigh of relief. No one was home. finally
The moment the front door clicked shut behind you, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud echoing down the quiet hallway. feet carrying you straight to your room as if you were on autopilot. The second the door swung closed, you pushed it with your foot — not realizing you never heard that familiar, satisfying click of the lock.
Only then did you exhale.
You stripped quickly, letting your clothes pool on the floor until you were left in nothing but an oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame. The soft fabric brushed against your bare thighs as you crawled under the covers, pulling the blanket up to your chest.
The moment your head hit the pillow, the images flooded in—unwanted, unrelenting, and far too vivid. K’s calm, gentle face as he slowly stroked his long, pretty cock. the lazy roll of his hips against your ass this morning. the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred within his dimly lit room.
Your hand crept under the oversized hoodie before you could talk yourself out of it. fingers slipping between your thighs, a shaky breath left you.
You were already soaked. embarrassingly so. The thin fabric of your panties is doing almost nothing to contain the wetness between your legs.
Your fingers slipped between your thighs as a shaky breath left you.
Your clit was swollen and sensitive from a full day of low-level arousal you couldn’t shake. You began rubbing slow, tight circles, eyes squeezed shut. But it wasn’t quite enough. Finally, you gave in and slid two fingers lower, teasing your entrance before pushing them inside. The stretch made you whimper softly. You hadn’t realized you were this pent up. Your walls clenching greedily around your own fingers, wet and hot, pulling them deeper as you started a slow, shallow rhythm. You curled your fingers, searching for that spot that always made your toes curl, while your other hand kept rubbing firm circles over your clit.
“Fuck…” You shuddered, voice breaking as you rubbed at your swollen clit with frantic little circles, fingers still buried deep inside your soaked pussy.
The pleasure was building up fast now. You rolled onto your stomach, hips lifted in the air, blanket kicked aside—soft, slick noises that would’ve mortified you if you weren’t already so far gone filled the room. Your moans grew higher, less controlled, spilling freely because you were so sure the apartment was empty.
You were getting close. Your moans turned higher, less controlled. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your fingers working your soaked pussy grew even more obvious.
In your mind, it wasn’t your fingers anymore.
You imagined K’s pretty, steady fingers curling inside you instead, his sweet voice murmuring your name like it was something sacred while he watched you fall apart on him. Then, how Nicholas’s thick cock would replace them, pounding into you loud enough that the headboard would slam against the wall and everyone would hear. Ej’s gentle praise whispering “good girl, just like that” as he slowly worked you open. Fuma’s heavy stare burned into you while he held your legs apart and made you take it, just like in the image you had seen on his phone.
The fantasy consumed you completely. Letting out hushed whines and moans of their names, the sounds turned louder, breathier, desperate. “Nngh— yes— fuck—” The wet sounds grew even filthier as you chased your release, hips rocking back onto your fingers, lost in the fantasy of all four of them using you.
So deep in your thoughts… You didn’t hear the front door open again.
You didn’t hear the quiet footsteps stopping right outside your room.
But Nicholas heard everything,
And now… He had seen everything, too.
Your door hadn’t latched properly when you’d pushed it shut with your foot. It had left open just a few inches—just enough for the dim hallway light to spill in and just enough for anyone standing there to see you clearly. Fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat.
And Nicholas was standing there.
Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, that signature lazy smirk slowly curling on his lips. His eyes were dark, hungry, drinking in the sight of you on your stomach with your ass in the air, hoodie ridden up around your waist, two fingers buried deep in your dripping pussy while you fucked yourself desperately. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched intently—watched the way your hips rocked back onto your fingers, watched the way your thighs trembled, watched the way your moans grew louder and more broken with every thrust.
When you cried out again—a loud, shameless “Fuck— I’m gonna cum..Nghh—” Nicholas finally let out a low, rough chuckle.
“Jesus Christ, short stuff…”
Your entire body jolted at the sound of his voice.
Panic exploded through you like ice water.
Your fingers froze mid-thrust, eyes flying open. In your rush to hide, you scrambled frantically, trying to yank your finger out of your dripping sex, pull the hoodie down, and pull the covers over you at the same time—limbs tangled, heart slamming against your ribs so hard you could hear it ringing in your ears.
You tumbled off the bed in a clumsy heap, landing hard on the floor with a startled yelp. “Ouch—oh my god ow!” The oversized hoodie rode up even higher as you hit the ground, exposing the curve of your ass and the slick shine on your thighs. Your legs were still trembling from how close you’d been, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Nicholas’s chuckle turned into a full, low laugh — warm, amused, and way too pleased.
“Shit, baby,” he grinned, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Didn’t mean to make you fall. Though… the view from here is even better.”
He leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, silver chain glinting as he looked down at you sprawled on the floor — hoodie bunched uselessly around your waist, thighs shiny with your own arousal, face burning with humiliation.
Your voice came out shaky and small, cracking with panic.
“N-Nicholas… I—you—oh god—the door wasn’t—I thought no one was home—”
He tilted his head, that lazy, cocky smirk widening as he watched you try to cover yourself with trembling hands. “Oh, I know what you thought,” he drawled, voice low and dripping with amusement. “You thought you were all alone… sooo you could moan our names nice and loud while you fucked yourself stupid. Is that right?”
He took one slow step closer, eyes dragging shamelessly over your exposed body.
“Fuck, short stuff. You were really going for it. ‘I’m gonna cum’—loud as hell. Bet the neighbors heard that one.”
Your face burned hotter than it ever had in your life. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Your pussy was still throbbing painfully, right on the edge and now completely denied, making everything ten times worse.
“I’m so sorry—No one's shoes were by the door, and I assumed you guys were not gonna be home for atleast awhil–Oh my god, please don’t tell the others.” You tried to continue, but you paused as Nicholas crouched down slightly, resting his forearms on his knees so he could look at you more closely. His smirk softened into something almost fond, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
You tried to scramble back, heart pounding, but before you could get anywhere, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping tight around your ankle. With one firm yank, he dragged you across the carpet toward him. A startled squeak tore from your throat as the oversized hoodie rode up even higher, bunching uselessly around your ribs and leaving you completely bare from the waist down.
“Shh. Don’t move,” he ordered, voice dropping into that dangerous register that made your pussy clench despite the panic. He crouched lower, free hand sliding up your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your dripping folds. “Look at this messy little cunt… still twitching, still so fucking wet. You really were right there, huh? Poor thing.”
You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he easily shoved your knees apart with one powerful thigh, pinning you open. The size difference hit you hard—his broad frame looming over your much smaller one made you feel tiny and helpless.
“Nicholas—wait, I—”
“I’m so sorry,” he mocked in a soft, syrupy voice, repeating your exact words back to you with a lazy grin. “No one’s shoes were by the door… assumed we weren’t gonna be home for a while…”
His thumb finally pressed against your swollen clit, rubbing slow, firm circles that made your hips twitch involuntarily. Another trickle of slick slipped out of you, and Nicholas’s eyes flicked down to watch it with dark satisfaction. “Oh my god, please don’t tell the others,” he continued in that same mocking tone, voice dropping even lower as he leaned in closer. “That’s what you were gonna say, right, short stuff? Begging me not to tell while your greedy little pussy is dripping all over the floor.”
You shook your head frantically, tears of humiliation stinging your eyes. “I didn’t mean— I thought I was alone—”
“Mhm, so you thought no one was around… that’s why you were crying out our names while you played with that pretty pussy like you were in heat?”
“Loud enough that I heard you from the hallway. ‘Fuck—I’m gonna cum…’ Fuck, baby. You sounded so desperate.”
Your body twitched again under his slow, deliberate touch, another broken sob slipping past your lips as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. The mix of sharp pleasure and deep humiliation made your head spin, your smaller frame trembling helplessly on the floor.
Without thinking, your hips bucked up into his hand — a small, subconscious roll that pushed your swollen clit harder against his thumb and drove his thick fingers a right above the entrance of your dripping heat, teasing the slick folds without pushing inside.
Nicholas’s low chuckle rumbled again, darker this time, as he watched your hips betray you with that small, needy buck.
“Oh?” His voice came out soft and mocking, dripping with that same fake sympathy he had used when stealing your food that morning. “You want more, pretty girl?”
“Fine,” he said, voice dropping into something rougher, meaner. “I’ll give you more.”
Before you could even process the words, his hand flew to your hair, fingers tangling tight in the strands at the back of your head. He yanked you up off the floor with surprising strength, making you cry out as your scalp stung. Your smaller body was pulled upright in one swift motion, legs shaky and unsteady beneath you.
You barely had time to stumble before he spun you around and shoved you forward, bending you roughly over the edge of your bed. The oversized hoodie rode up your back as your chest and stomach pressed into the mattress, ass forced high in the air and legs spread wide by his knee kicking between them.
Your face burned against the sheets, fresh tears soaking into the fabric as humiliation flooded you again. The position left you completely exposed—pussy dripping, clit still throbbing, ass presented like an offering.
Nicholas kept one hand fisted in your hair, holding your head down against the bed while his other hand immediately returned between your thighs. No more teasing at the entrance this time.
He shoved two thick fingers deep inside you in one smooth thrust, burying them to the knuckles. The sudden stretch made you gasp sharply, your walls clenching hard around the intrusion.
“Thereeeee we go,” he growled, voice low and satisfied as he started pumping his fingers faster now — still not frantic, but deeper, harder, curling them relentlessly against that perfect spot with every stroke. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers.
“Fuck… that’s better, isn’t it? Greedy lil’ cunt sucking my fingers so deep. Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dragging over your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your pussy clenched greedily around his fingers. “Crying and apologizing… but you’re sucking my fingers in like you never want me to stop. Such a pathetic little slut.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, bringing them up to smear your own slick across your cheeks before pushing them past your lips and into your mouth. You let out a choked sob as you attempt to swallow around his long digits. He watched you with a satisfied smirk, slowly fucking his fingers in and out of your mouth while his other hand stayed tangled in your hair, keeping you pinned down.
“Taste how wet you got for me,” he growled softly, watching your teary eyes as you instinctively sucked them clean. “Yeahhh, Good girl. But my fingers aren’t gonna be enough anymore, are they, baby?”
Nicholas didn’t even bother straightening up behind you, one hand still fisted in your hair to keep your face pressed into the mattress as he used the other hand to tug off his belt—letting the leather slide free and fall onto the floor with a sharp, metallic clink that caused you to jolt slightly; the noise ringing in your ears.
The sound of his zipper coming down followed, too loud in the quiet room. You felt the heat of his body shift slightly as he freed his cock, the thick, heavy length slapping against your ass cheek once before he gripped it at the base. He teased your swollen clit with it, slapping the sensitive bud lightly—once, twice—making your hips jerk and a fresh sob tear from your throat.
“Shhh, don’t fight it,” he cooed mockingly, pressing the blunt tip against your entrance. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”
You shook your head frantically, tears soaking into the sheets, but the movement only made him laugh—low, dark, and far too pleased. His broad chest stayed pressed to your back, one large hand still fisted tight in your hair to keep your face pinned down while the other guided his cock towards your entrance.
“Liar,” he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “You left the door cracked open like a desperate little invitation. Moaning our names loud enough for me to hear every filthy word…and now this tiny cunt is dripping down my cock like it’s starving for it.”
Then he pushed forward.
The thick head stretched you open slowly, forcing your tight walls to part around his girth. The burn was immediate and overwhelming, but so delicious—he was so much bigger than his fingers, so much thicker than you could handle in this position. A broken cry ripped from your throat as he sank in deeper, inch by relentless inch, until his hips finally met your ass and he bottomed out completely. But he didn’t give you time to adjust—beginning to thrust with slow heavy rolls, punching the air from your lungs with each deep stroke.
The filthy, wet slap of skin on skin echoed louder with every movement. His hips slamming against your ass with a rough, punishing force. The impact jolting your small frame forward with each thrust. He kept you pinned exactly how he wanted: face down, ass up, smaller body folded beneath his much larger one like you weighed nothing. “Fuuuck,” Nicholas groaned, “You feel so good. Can barley move… Fuckk tight cunt taking me so well.”
His hips rolled in deep, heavy thrusts that drug the air from out of your lungs with each movement. The wet, filthy slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, growing louder and more obscene with every punishing stroke.
Nicholas showed you no mercy, keeping one hand fisted tight in your hair as he pressed your cheek firmly into the sheets.
The sound of your cunt was downright filthy—It made you cringe through tears.
Wet, lewd squelching noises echoed with every thrust as his thick cock plunged in and out of your soaked hole. Each time he bottomed out, a messy, obscene schlick-schlick-schlick filled the air—your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs, making the slide even wetter, even louder.
“Shittttt…pretty girl… listen to how wet you are,” he laughed breathlessly, the sound almost mocking. “This greedy little pussy is dripping down my balls. You’ve been dying for cock, huh?”
The slick sounds mixed with the sharp slap of his hips meeting your ass, creating a filthy rhythm that left no room for denial.
He suddenly pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head stretching your hole, before slamming back in with one brutal thrust. The force ripped a broken sob from your throat as your walls clenched violently around him. You shook violently, breathing becoming rapid as you sobbed into the sheets, coating the pink fabric in a different type of wetness.
Nicholas groaned loudly as he felt your pussy flutter and spasm around his cock—grinding his hips deep so you could feel every inch of him buried inside you. He leaned down closer, broad chest now pressing fully against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he fucked you with slow, punishing rolls.
“God, you are such a lil’ slut. Pretty cunt keeps sucking me in. Juju’s gonna lose his fucking mind. He’s been sniffing your panties like a pervert for weeks. k’s been worse though, so patient with you…leavin’ the door open when he jerks off to see if you’d break… and fuma? He’s been waiting to see how pretty you cry when you’re stuffed full,” he whispered, voice dripping with cruel amusement—hand slipping underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it tight, mean circles that made your thighs shake uncontrollably, slapped your clit lightly, making you jolt and cry out, then did it again harder.
“You gonna let them take turns with this sloppy little hole after I’m done with it?”
The words hit you like ice water.
Your breath caught in a sharp, broken sob. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, soaking into the already ruined sheets. Your mind spun, a dizzying mix of shame, fear, and unwanted heat flooding your body all at once.
The thought of them taking turns—passing you around like a toy and using your aching, dripping cunt one after another—twisted your stomach with shame… and made your cunt clench hard around Nicholas’s cock despite the shame coursing through you
You shook your head frantically, the movement limited by his tight grip in your hair.
“N-no… please—” your voice came out in small, cracked, and pathetic moan, the sound barely more than a whimper. “I can’t… not all of them… please, Nicholas—”
Your cries only egged him on; he began to thrust faster and harder, the bed creaking loudly beneath you. You could hear how he laughed—low, dark, yet delighted amongst the creaks and wet obscene sounds of your bodies together.
“It’s okay, pretty” he cooed mockingly, voice rough. “Right now—” He tightened his grip in your hair and yanked your head back just enough to growl against your ear, “This cunt is mine.” He pulls you back even further—grip on your hair forcing your back into an arch as he pounded into you. The new angle making his cock hit that sensitive spot with every thrust, ripping broken sobs and whimpers from your throat. Your smaller body jolted forward with each punishing snap of his hips.
You had already been so close.
Before he walked in, you’d been frantically fingering yourself—fingers pumping in and out of you; deep. hips rocking your swollen clit desperately aganist the palm of your hand as you chased your release. Their names slipping from your lips like a filthy prayer, amongst the soft squelches of your needy cunt.
You had been right on the edge, right there… and then he caught you.
And now that denied orgasm was coming crashing back ten times stronger. Fueled by every savage thrust of his thick cock and every dirty word that fell from his mouth—coated with a nasty edge.
Nicholas could feel it—the way your cunt gripped at his cock, sucking it deeper with each time he pulled out only to thrust into you again with brutal force. “Ohhh, there it is,” he taunted, “You gonna cum? Yea? You were so fucking close before, weren’t you, pretty girl?” his voice dripped with mockery, “Moaning ‘Juju… K… Fuma…’ like a little slut. You wanted to fuck your new roomies that bad, yea?” he cooed, as your pathetic sobs already had began morphing into desperate, breathy moans.
The words sent another humiliating wave of heat through you. Your mind screamed no, begged even— but your body did not listen to. it instead betrayed you completely. Your cunt gushed even wetter, the lewd sounds growing louder as he pounded into you without mercy. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, your clit throbbing under his relentless fingers, your entire body shaking as you teetered right on the edge.
You tried to hold back. You really did. You told yourself that if you could just resist a little longer, maybe you could hold onto some shred of your dignity. But the combination of his thick cock stretching you open, the brutal pace, the sharp slaps to your swollen clit, and the overwhelming shame of his words was too much. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train—harder and more intense than anything you’d ever felt before.
Your back arched into his stomach—a broken, sobbing cry tearing from your throat as your walls spasmed violently. Overwhelming pleasure erupted through you in blinding waves. Your vision blurred with tears and your mind went white, eyes rolling back. Your pussy gushed slick around him, soaking his cock and dripping down your thighs in messy rivulets while your body shook uncontrollably.
Nicholas groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he fucked you through every intense spasm. “Fuuuck— that’s it. Cum on my cock, pretty little slut. Look at you… making such a fucking mess.” He kept thrusting through your orgasm, drawing out every last shake of your body until you were whimpering and twitching from the overstimulation, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.
He kept pounding you until he felt his climax approaching—only then did he pull out.
With a rough groan, Nicholas yanked his heavy length free, leaving your cunt gaping and leaking. He gripped the base of his thick, glistening length and stroked it fast and hard right above your trembling body.
“Fuuuuuck—gonna cum all over you, baby.” His hips jerked. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splattering across your back and ass in messy white streaks. Some landed on the curve of your spine, even a few drops landing on your swollen, twitching pussy. The warm stickiness coating your bare skin—Milking every last drop until you were thoroughly marked with him.
Nicholas exhaled shakily, a satisfied smirk curling on his lips as he looked down at your ruined state — tear-streaked face, hoodie bunched uselessly around your ribs, swollen pussy still twitching and dripping.
He leaned down, brushing damp hair from your forehead with surprising gentleness.
“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured, voice low and dark. “First one down.”
He pressed one last mocking kiss to your temple before standing up, tucking himself back into his pants. “Rest up, short stuff.” Nicholas gave your ass one final, possessive slap before he walked toward the door, leaving you sprawled on the bed—exhausted, leaking, and utterly used.
Nicholas didn’t tell anyone.
Well, not that you knew of.
You woke to the familiar scent of matcha waiting on the counter and EJ greeting you with that same soft, boy-like smile as he pushing his glasses up his nose and slid the mug toward you. “Morning, y/n.”
K stood nearby, sipping at his americano, giving you his usual gentle smile when you entered.
Nicholas wandered in a few minutes later, shirtless as usual, silver chain glinting against his chest. He leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs with that signature lazy smirk.
“Morning, short stuff,” he drawled, voice perfectly casual, like he hadn’t spent last night wrecking you until you passed out on his cock.
He didn’t wink. He didn’t smirk knowingly. He didn’t say a single word about what happened.
He just stole another bite, earning the usual gentle scolding from EJ, and acted like nothing had changed. Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, quietly playing on his Switch. His dark gaze flicked to you for a second longer than usual, but he as usual he gave you a nod—’Good morning.” falling from his lips.
The whole morning felt… normal. Far too normal.
You sat there in your sleep shorts and hoodie, thighs still faintly sore, pussy still tender and aching from how roughly Nicholas had used you. Every shift in your seat reminded you of the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy sounds your pussy had made, the way you’d sobbed and came so hard you blacked out.
Yet none of them acted any different.
It was almost worse than if they had said something.
You kept waiting for the shoe to drop. For Nicholas to make a comment. For one of them to look at you differently. But the day passed in the same careful rhythm as before.
© smidare 2026 ♥︎ likes & reposts r appreciated!
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authors note: after the long wait, its finally here!! i decided to split it into 4 chapters because each smut scene is relatively long. i also don't wanna accidentally burn myself out.. i start school soon hehe. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. apologies for any mistakes, i tend to write roommate wanted at like 2-6am! i'm working on ej's chapter now—the wait shouldn't be too long. don't worry~ if u see things change in this its bc when i get bored i reread my fics n edit them!!
