: drink up、 nicholas — 〔+18〕 ──── · x reader ॱ 💬 ִ
。꒰ 💬 ꒱ cw : drinking, plying, nursing / hand-feeding alcohol, clingy nico, marking, drunk nico, sub nico, whiny nico, no explicit sex scenes, mature elements.
music blasted through the bustling streets of Taipei. crowds cluttered the tight alleyways. every corner filled with groups of messy, drunk college students. rows of bars and clubs falling in a perfect parallel heaven, just what you needed for the night.
you tagged along with a few friends for the night —nothing outrageous, no intention of picking up on a “one-night thing”—phone wasn’t accepting any new numbers, just the same group chat that pinged 400 times a day.
you threw on a lazy, tight tank top and a loose pair of baggy jeans, the kind that barely sit around your hips, the tank top leaving a peak of visible midriff skin. your bag rested over your shoulder, pressed uncomfortably deep into the skin, keychains jingling behind you with every step, announcing your arrival.
you wandered around the streets aimlessly for what felt like eternity. your eyes blurred the directions until all that was left was your intuition. feet stumbling around until you finally led you to an oddly quiet bar, no large groups of people covering the dance floor, unlike the packed clubs where music trickled through the thin walls. the music was low, not a slow tempo, but a volume that was far more hushed compared to neighboring areas.
the lights emitted a serious red, cramming every inch of the dance floor, just hardly hitting the tables—where your sights met your friends' silhouettes.
your feet brought you first, body moving just behind the hasty pace you prance at, bag charms chiming— the melody catching up to your friends’ familiar ears, their heads turn— all but one.
nicholas’s back faces you, a broad length that engulfed most of your vision. his hands planted on opposing ends of the table, slumped over the pile of empty shot glasses, napkins, and plates.
your chest hit his back, arms wrapping around his wide abdomen, fingers fisting into the delicate black fabric of his shirt. he reeked of alcohol, a bitter mix of everything you could think of— no clear notes of what wasn’t drunken, it clung to him like an intoxicating fragrance. he flinch forward, legs unsteady, his lips froze, parted, mid-sentence. letting your arms slowly untangle free around him. you peaked over his slouched shoulders. his hiccups hit against you, a thick waft of bitter-sweet soju followed his breath. his hair was messy, sunglasses covered his weary eyes, t-shirt was slightly stained and wrinkled. he turned to you, hindered and sluggish, lazy moves with his unsteady state. the table turned to you, pausing their conversations. their eyes all gave a knowing look, telling a collective story… or warning. the group seemed mostly sober— an occasional shot or two shared between, but nobody was as clearly wasted as nicholas. he was a light weight— surely he wasn't too deep into the night, but the effect were catching up faster than he could run.
you tried to comfort him, take him out of the bar— but he refused. he clung to you like a signature scent. resting his throbbing, dizzy head against your shoulder. his words slurred, mumbling against your ear. you nod along, trying to juggle every ongoing conversation, along with the whiny, clingy kitten hanging onto your side. “why aren’t you listening to me~?” he paw at your tank top— tugging the fabric, fingers holding the small drift of bare skin. his pout carries the tone, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck. with every word, he stutters deeper into your plush skin. hands ghost your waist, moving to pull the sunglasses off— as if they worked overtime to block out the absent sun of midnight, tightening them back into his hair, pinning his short black hair.
he leaned down on his chair, face lit by the dim lights, legs spread ever so slightly, boxers peaking from his shirt that raised with every lengthy stretch. soft whimpers escaped his dried lips involuntarily. he nudged you again, burying his cheek against your shoulder. “come on, don’t ignore me~….” he whined, big glossy eyes staring up at you, sharp, yet carryinga weak, admiring gaze. his lips pout narrowly, cheeks rinsed a deep pink, circulating across his face— seeping like ink into his neck. a silver chrome hearts necklace drooping on top of his shirt, catching the deep red lighting. the top of his hair tickling your neck— your heart pounds through your chest, deafening you just enough where every conversation mixed into a single head throb. loud enough to where you swore someone could hear it, swore somebody could see the way your hands shook, the way your body stuttered with every move. hesitant, nervous, reaching for items to busy your brain from his intensely close presence. feeling the heat of him radiate onto you, warming your cold arms. “yixiang— stoppp your practically drooling all over me.” you nudge his shoulder, scarcely jerking him back until the ghost of him still hugs you. feeling the heavy heart pounding, weight lifted off of you, letting your dizzied head spin one last time. he looked back at you, a small bit of damage covered his face— his sensitive form melting your love-drunk heart. his once devilish, flirty smile now replaced by a small, gentle pout.
the night carried on, laughing, shouting, and small friendly bickering between the group. all but for nicholas, he sat in his chair, arms crossed, falling into the deep cushion and hardwood with every passing second. his cheeks slowly lowered the intensity of their color, now only coated by a small, gentle pinkish-red that scatter from his cheeks over his nose. he huffed every occasional comment, scoffing at the stupid jokes being exchanged. all until he tugged onto your side one last time.
you stood above him, head already thrown back, about to down the putrid, small glass of liquor. your hair tickling your neck, tank top sticking to your skin— the sudden gesture broke your behavior, freezing, feeling his hands wrap against your waist in a familiar way— too handsy for your friendship. he stared up at you, hands shifting down to your hips— eyes pleading, twinkling beneath you. your eyes meet— no, they lock. fixed on his sharp eyes, the way they ease when looking at you.
the countless times he stared at you with nothing but pure affection, all while you were too blind to notice. lost in the gut wrenching feeling that hit with every thought of him. too scared to face your own burning bad desires.
his eyes darkening, carrying a subtle hint of light that you couldn’t distinguish. his eyes dart between you and the small glass, shirt barely hitting his lower stomach, legs bouncing anxiously. his hair was slightly messy, only pinned by sunglasses to hide just how much of a drunk mess he was. he hiccuped words, barely letting comments go without slurring them together.
he gulped, watching his adam’s apple bob before his lips parted, a thick, smushed sentence of mandarin and english, he fell forward onto you, head sink against your abdomen. you felt the cold frames press to your bare skin, his fingers toy with your tank top, then he lifted his head, slow and steady, thoughts reconnected to make one simple sentence. “can you pour that for me…” his eyes shot to your glass, hands tightening around you, fingers dinging into your skin.
and so you did.
you bent to him, his eyes stared up at you, never once cowering from your sight. he unhurriedly inched off the chair, falling barely to his knees before you. you stare down at him, the weak yet pathetic way he seated before you. his earring snags the dim lights, glowing just barely. sunglasses pushed back his silky black hair, his cheeks' shade grew more harsh, a deep, almost reddened hue. he tilted his head back, eyes wet, a strong, sparked gaze. the over head light reflected in his black orbs, and a thin layer of sweat blanketed his neck. his lips parted, and in an instant, it all happened.
your hand guiding his chin up ever so lightly, a gentle hold on his soft skin. you shove the cruel glass to his dusky rose lips, waiting for his small nod of approval before tilting it back, his head falling back with the glass. the thin liquid pouring down his lips to his chin, layering to his throat. leaving a slick trail over his pale skin. he watches you, a deep thirst lingering before the bitter alcohol. the way he became so small under you, following your every move like an unbreakable order. his lips pressed tightly, the liquid dribbling down as he hesitantly swallowed, his brows furrowing, glossy eyes breaking connection with you. your soft hand gently smacking his cheek. he squeezes his eyes gently, lips slick, a whimper ripping from his throat. his head hurried down to his chest, until it met with you again— a shaky and weak “mm… thank you~” followed his deep, raspy voice.
it continued for the night, he begged you to keep feeding him the shots, kneeling before you like a statue. even if he was about to black out, he swore it was his last.
sticking onto you, whining in your ear, to even gently pressing his lips to your neck— anything to get your attention. his behaved lips faltered, just for a second, sucking on your skin. other hand pressing you deeper into him. all while the thick, heavy scent of alcohol sat with you.
❛ during his rut, nicholas always kept you at distance, afraid of hurting you, his human mate. he just should've known better than that. his female is stubborn, and completely obsessed with him. ❜
( 王奕翔 && fem!reader ) ⋮ 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧 ⋮ tiger hybrid!nicho, rut, knotting, breeding kink, multiple positions + orgasms, squirting, nicho calls you 'his female', nicho just wants his kits, rough sex, under the influence (?) (i mean, he's not in the right state of mind), blonde mullet nicho!!, cunnilingus, blowjob, lactation kink, a lot of drool, this is filthy okay, sorry ⟡ 𝟿.𝟼𝟹𝟻 words !
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡ reblogs and comments for a cookie!
The relentless buzz of your phone had gone unanswered for hours, each unanswered call twisting the knot in your stomach tighter.
Nicholas, you tiger hybrid boyfriend, was in the grip of his rut again, and he’d shut you out like he always did. Suppressants didn’t work on his kind, at least not yet—tiger hybrids ike him had to ride it raw, instincts raging without chemical mercy. He’d lock himself away in his apartment, convinced that his feral side would snap and hurt you, his fragile human mate. For you, it was bullshit. He had you, his mate, to take care of him in these times, he was just too stubborn. You know he’d never hurt you, but still he didn’t want it.
The idea of him suffering alone, denying you both the comfort of your bond, felt like betrayal, honestly. You were his mate; you needed to be there, to touch him, to ground him through the storm.
And you definitely needed him fucking the shit out of you.
Tired of the silence, you grabbed your keys and stormed out. “If the tiger won’t come to his female, the female goes to her tiger.”
In his apartment, Nicholas had just stepped out of his fifth shower of the day—and it was barely 9 a.m.—the icy blasts doing little to quench the fire raging in his veins. His cock had been hard and throbbing since he woke up at dawn, every pulse a reminder of you—your scent, your soft curves, the way your body fit against his.
He’d gripped the shower wall, teeth gritted, fighting the urge to stroke himself to thoughts of burying deep inside you, claiming you until the rut burned out. But he couldn’t risk it. Not with you, his precious female.
Then it hit him—your scent. Sweet, intoxicating, seeping under the door like a siren’s call.
His nostrils flared, heart slamming against his ribs. His amber eyes threatening to shift to that orange hue. Hallucination, he told himself. The rut playing tricks, conjuring you to torment him further. He shook his head, droplets scattering across the tiled floor, his towel slung low on his hips, barely containing the thick bulge straining against the fabric. Precum had already soaked through once during the shower; now it beaded again at the tip, his body betraying him.
“Nicholas, you better open this damn door.” Your voice cut through, sharp and insistent. “I’m not leaving.”
He growled low in his throat, a rumble that vibrated through his chest, but his hand moved on instinct, twisting the knob. The door swung open and there you stood, eyes wide and determined, all pretty for him. His gaze locked on yours, orange eyes like you’ve never seen before, swirling with barely contained hunger.
“I told you you shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, voice rough like gravel, his broad frame filling the doorway.
Steam from the shower lingered on his skin, tiny rivulets tracing down his toned chet, over the ridges of his abs, disappearing into the towel. His blonde hair damp and tousled, the mullet framing his sharp jawline and those eyes—god they were even prettier—pupils silating as your scent flooded his senses.
You didn’t back down. Instead, you pushed past him, your shoulder brushing his damp arm, sending a jolt straight to his groin. His cock twitched visibly under the towel, the outline thickening as he fought the urge to grab you.
“It’s unfair what you’re doing,” you said, voice trembling with a mix of anger and need as you stepped fully into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.
The space was dim, curtains drawn against the morning light, the air thick with his musky arousal—earthy, primal, like the wild heart of the tiger he carried.
“You think I can’t handle this? That I don’t want to be with you through it? We’re mates, Weno. I need you too.” you voice got needier the more you talked.
He backed up a step, hands clenching at his sides, claws itching to extend from his fingertips. “Go home, you stubborn female,” he urged, but his body betrayed him, leaning toward you even as he circled away.
You advanced, determined to close the distance, your eyes raking over him—taking in the water-slicked skin, the way his muscles tensed under the faint stripes of his hybrid markings, faint black stripes down his sides that seemed to darken when his rut peaked.
The towel hung precariously low, the bulge beneath impossible to ignore, his erection pressing insistently against the thin barrier, the head outlined clearly, leaking steadily now.
You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm, but he dodged, pivoting around the edge of the living room sofa like it was a shield in some absurd dance.
“Stay back, female,” he warned, voice dropping to a growl.
His long legs carried him in a wide arc, towel flapped slightly as he moved, the apartment’s coffee table nearly tripping him. You mirrored him, slipping around the other side, your heart pounding with a cocktail of frustration and desire.
“Tiger,” you said in a warning tone, trying to reach him again.
The emotional tension crackled between you, thick as the heat radiating from his body. He was suffering, you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the sweat beading anew on his brow despite the cold shower.
“Stop running from me,” you pleaded, voice softening as you lunged forward, trying to catch his wrist.
He twisted away, but not before your fingers brushed the warm skin of his hip, inches from where the towel knotted.
A shudder ran through him, his cock jerking hard, a wet spot blooming darker on the fabric. His eyes flashed fully orange now, the golden amber consumed by the rut’s fire, pupils slitting like a predator’s. He panted, chest heaving, the scent of his arousal intensifying, mingling with yours as your own body responded—heat pooling between your thighs, nipples tightening under your shirt.
“I’ll hurt you,” he admitted hoarsely, circling the sofa again, his movements more frantic, like a caged animal pacing. But you didn’t stop, matching his steps, closing in with each pass.
The sofa became your battlefield, a ridiculous loop of pursuit and evasion that belied the raw intimacy building. Every near-miss sent sparks through both of you—your hand skimming his thigh, his breath ghosting your hair as he spun away.
“You don’t get it. The rut… it make me want to pin you down, fuck you until you can’t walk, mark you so deep you bleed my scent, fuck—put my cubs in you.” His words hung heavy, explicit and unfiltered, stoking the fire in your core.
You could see the strain in him, the way his hips shifted unconsciously, seeking friction against the air. “Then do it,” you challenged, voice breathy, finally cornering him against the arm of the sofa. Your body pressed close, breasts brushing his chest, the heat of him searing through your clothes. “I’m not afraid. I’m your mate, your female. Use me however you want, tiger. Put your cubs in me.
He froze, orange eyes boring into yours, the internal war raging across his face. His cock throbbed visibly, tenting the towel to its limit, a bead of precum trickling down the inside of his thigh.
The emotional dam cracked; his hand shot out, not to push you away, but to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. The hard length of him ground into your belly, hot and insistent, as a deep growl rumbled from his throat.
“Fuck… you’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, lips crashing down to claim yours in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation, tongues tangling as the rut finally won.
His lips devoured yours with a ferocity that stole your breath, the kiss deepening as his tongue plunged into your mouth, stroking against yours in wet, insistent slides.
Nicholas’ hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, claws pricking your skin through your clothes as he backed you toward the sofa. The towel finally gave way, slipping from his waist to pool at his feet, his thick cock springing free—veins bulging along the shaft, the head flushed in a dark red and slick with precum that dripped in a steady string onto the floor.
He couldn’t care less; all he could focus on was the taste of you, the way your body yielded under his touch.
With a guttural growl vibrating against your lips, he shoved you backward onto the couch, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thud. You bounced slightly, legs splaying open instinctively as he loomed over you, orange eyes blazing with unrestrained hunger.
His hair fell forward, framing his face like a wild mane. Droplets of water—or was it sweat?—trailed down his chest, catching on the faint tiger stripes that rippled across his skin with every heaving breath. His cock bobbed heavily between his thighs, brushing your knee as he knelt down, the heat of it searing even through the fabric of your shorts.
“Gonna taste you first,” he rasped, voice thick and broken, his rut demanding he claim you slowly to keep from losing control too soon.
But even as he said it, his body trembled, the need to bury himself inside your tight heat clawing at his insides.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, but no—instinct took over. His lips curled back, revealing sharp canines as he leaned in, teeth sinking into the fabric right at your hip. With a savage yank, he tore through the material, the sounds of ripping cotton echoing in the room. Your panties followed in one brutal pull, his teeth grazing your skin as he shredded them away, exposing your bare pussy to the cool air of the apartment.
You gasped, the sudden exposure sending a rush of arousal flooding between your folds, your clit already swollen and aching. Nicholas’ eyes locked on your core, nostrils flaring as he inhaled your scent—musky and sweet, driving his tiger instincts wild.
Saliva pooled in his mouth, his jaw working as drool escaped the corners of his lips, dripping onto your inner thigh in warm, messy trails. He didn’t wipe it away; instead, he dove in, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart, knees hooked over his arms to pin you open.
His tongue flattened against your pussy in one long, dragging lick from your entrance to your clit, lapping up the slick arousal that coated your lips. The texture of his tongue—rougher than a human’s, with a faint rasp from his hybrid nature—sent shocks of pleasure ripping through you, making your hips buck up toward his face.
He groaned into you, the vibration humming against your sensitive flesh as he licked again, slower this time, savouring the way your juices mixed with his spit. Drool spilled freely from his mouth now, slicking your thighs and pooling at the base of your ass on the couch cushions, turning the fabric dark and sodden.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered against your folds, words muffled as his lips sealed around your clit and sucked hard, pulling the nub into his mouth with wet, slurping sounds.
His tongue flicked over it rapidly, circling the swollen peak while his drool bubbled out, mixing with your growing wetness to create a filthy, slippery mess that dripped down your ass. You could feel it everywhere—the slick glide of saliva and arousal coating your skin, making obscene squelching noisees every time he moved.
One hand braced on your thigh, claws dimpling the flesh without breaking skin, while the other slid up your inner thigh, fingers tracing the soaked path his tongue had blazed.
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, the intrusion stretching your walls as he curled them upward, seeking that spongy spot that made you cry out his name. Your pussy clenched around the thick digits, pulling them deeper as he pumped them in and out, the motion deliberate and rough.
Each thrust displaced more of the messy combination of his spit and your cream, forcing it to squirt out around his knuckles with lewd, wet pops. He added a third finger, stretching you further, his thumb pressing down on your clit to grind in tandem with his sucking mouth.
The pressure built fast, your body arching off the couch as he finger-fucked you relentlessly, his tongue lashing your clit between deep, probing licks into your entrance.
Nicholas’ cock throbbed untouched against the edge of the sofa, precum leaking in heavy beads that smeared across the upholstery, but he just couldn’t stop—not yet. The more he tasted you, the way your pussy fluttered and gushed around his fingers, the more the rut screamed for him to flip you over and slam his cock balls-deep inside.
He growled low, the sound sending fresh vibrations through your core as he sucked harder, teeth grazing your clit just enough to sting. Drool poured from his mouth in rivulets, soaking your pubic hair, running down to where his fingers plunged, making ecery slide smoother, filthier. Your arousal squirted lightly with each curl of his fingers, splattering his chin and wrist, the scent of sex thick and heady in the air.
He pulled his fingers out briefly, only to shove them back deeper, scissoring them to open you up while his tongue delved inside alongside, fucking into your hole with broad, sloppy thrusts.
The mess was everywhere—your thighs glistened with it, the couch beneath you growing damp and sticky, his face shiny with saliva and your juices.
“Need to be inside you,” he panted, voice ragged as he lifted his head just enough to speak, orange eyes wild and unfocused.
But he dove back down, latching onto your clit again, sucking and licking with desperate fervor, fingers pistoning faster now, determined to make you cum on his tongue before he lost the fragile thread of control holding him back.
Your hands fisted in his damp hair, pulling him closer as the coil in your belly tightened, the dual assault of his mouth and fingers pushing you toward the edge. He was relentless, drooling and devouring like a man possessed, the filthy wetness amplifying every sensation until you shattered, pussy spasming around his fingers as you came with a keening moan, flooding his mouth with more of your release.
He lapped it all up greedily, but the taste only fueled the fire—the need to fuck you raw, too fill you with his cum until it leaked out in messy streams, overwhelming him completely.
Your body still quivered from the orgasm crashing through you, pussy clenching around nothing now that Nicholas had withdrawn his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more.
He rose up slightly on his knees between your spead thighs, his face glistening with the messy blend of your arousal and his drool, chin dripping as he licked his lips with a swipe of that rough tongue. His orange eyes burned into yours, pupils blown wide with the feral haze of his rut, but beneath it flickered a thread of restraint—the human part of him clinging to control.
His cock stood rigid against his abs, the shaft so thick it curved slightly upward, veins pulsing along its length, the head an angry red and weeping in thick ropes that stretched and snapped as he shifted. It was impossibly long, easily nine inches, the tip already swelling faintly with the promise of his knot.
He panted heavily, chest rising and falling, water from his earlier shower long evaporated into sweat that beaded on his tiger-striped skin. One hand wrapped around his cock, stroking once, twice, to spead the slick precum over the length, making it glisten obscenely.
The tiger inside roared in his mind—take her, claim her, breed her now—but he forced the words out, voice a gravelly whisper laced with desperation. “Please… tell me I can fuck you. Need to be inside you, but… don’t wanna hurt you. Say yes, female. Let me have you.”
Your nod was immediate, heart pounding at the vulnerability in his plea amid the primal storm. “Yes, Weno, please. Want you—all of you.” The words ignited him; a low snarl rumbled from his throat as he surged forward, hooking your legs over his hips to pull you closer.
The couch creaked under the shift, the cushions already soaked from his earlier attentions, but he didn’t care. He lined up his cock with your entrance, the fat head nudging your slick folds apart, teasing your clit before pressing down. With one controlled thrust, he sank in halfway, your pussy stretching around his girth with a burn that bordered on pain, walls fluttering to accommodate the invasion.
You cried out, nails scraping down his arms, leaving red trails on his damp skin.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, hips snapping forward to bury the rest of his length inside you in a single, depp plunge.
His balls slapped against your ass, the fullness overwhelming as his cock bottomed out, the tip kissing your cervix with a jolt that made stars burst behind your eyelids. He filled you completely, every inch throbbing hot and heavy, the thickness splitting you open while the length reached places no one else ever had.
He held still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling in hot bursts as he adjusted to the vice-like grip of your pussy milking him. Drool escaped his lips again, landing on your collarbone in a warm splatter, mixing with the sweat slicking your bodies.
Then he started moving, pulling out slowly until just the head remained, your arousal coating his shaft in a shiny sheen that dripped down to his balls, before slamming back in with a wet smack. The pace built quickly, his thrusts powerful and unrelenting, hips pistoning as he fucked you into the couch, your back arching off the cushions to meet him.
Each drive hit deep, his cock dragging along your inner walls, the ridge of the head scraping that sensitive spot inside that had you gasping, toes curling. The filthy sounds filled the room—skin slapping skin, your pussy squelching around him as he churned your mixed fluids into a frothy cream that leaked out with every withdrawal, soaking the base of his cock and the couch beneath your ass.
“Gonna put my cubs in you,” he babbled, words tumbling out in a feverish rush between grunts, his rut overriding any filter as he rutted into you like an animal in heat. “Need to—fuck, fill this pussy with my seed, breed you full. Watch your belly swell with my kits, mark you inside and out. You’re my female, gonna knot you and—shit—pump every drop deep where it belongs.”
His voice cracked on the last word, hips stuttering as the words fueled his frenzy, thrusts turning erratic, deeper, harder, the couch frame groaning in protest. Precum leaked steadily from his tip, mixinf with your wetness to make each slide smoother, messier, the excess bubbling out around where you were joined and trickling down your ass.
You marked him in return, driven by the same wild instinct, your hands roaming his back as claws of your own—metaphorical, but no less fierce—raked down his spine, nails breaking skin in shallow scratches that welled with thin lines of blood.
He hissed in pleasure-pain, the sting only spurring him on, and you leaned up to sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave indents that bruised instantly, tasting the salt of his sweat and the faint mettalic tang of blood.
He marked you too, one hand pinning your hip with bruising force, fingers digging in to leave imprints on your skin, while his other hand claimed your breast, kneading the flesh roughly before his mouth descended.
His teeth found the top of your left breast, right over the existing mate mark he’d given you before—the two small puncture holes from his canines, healed but forever scarred as proff of your bond. He bit down again, not piercing but pressing hard enough to reopen the sensitivity, sucking on the mark with a possessive growl that vibrated through your chest.
The pain mingled with pleasure, your pussy clenching tighter around his pounding cock, pulling a guttural moan from him.
“Mine,” he snarled against your skin, tongue lapping at the twin holes before he lifted his head, eyes locking on yours with feral intensity.
But before he lost himself completely, he softened for a heartbeat, leaning down to press his lips tenderly to that very mark, kissing the two small punctures with a reverence that contrasted the brutal fucking, his tongue tracing the raised edges as if worshipping the bond he’d sealed there.
“Love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible over the wet slap of his hips against yours, before the rut reclaimed him fully.
His thrusts gew frantic, cock swelling thicker inside you, the knot beginning to inflate as he chased his release.
“Coming—fuck, gonna cum inside you,” he gasped, burying himself to the hilt one last time, the head of his cock pressing flush against your cervix.
His body tensed, muscles rippling under your hands, and then he erupted, hot spurts of cum flooding your pussy in thick, endless ropes.
The sensation was overwhelming, his seed painting your walls white, filling you to the brim as his knot swelled fully, locking him in place just inside your entrance—not forcing the full bulge past to avoid tearing you, but enough to seal everything inside.
He stayed like that, hips grinding in shallow circles to push every drop deeper, ensuring his cum bathed your womb, the warmth speading through your core as excess pressure built but stayed contained by his knot.
The rut burned hotter in his veins, his tiger nature granting him endless stamina that refused to let him rest. Even as the last pulses of orgasm faded, his cock throbbed insistently inside you, already hardening further against the slick confines of your pussy.
Sweat dripped from his brow onto your chest, mixing with the drying saliva from his earlier bites, and his amber eyes—now fully orange with feral hunger—locked onto yours.
A low growl vibrated through his chest, the sound primal and demanding, as he gripped your hips tighter, claws pricking your skin without breaking it.
“Not done yet,” he rasped, voice thick with need, his breath hot against your ear. “Need more of you, fill this pussy until you’re leaking me everywhere.”
Without waiting for a response, his hands slid under your thighs, strong fingers digging in as he lifted and flipped you over in one fluid motion. The sudden shift made his knot tug at your entrance, sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain through you, but he was careful, easing out just enough to maneuver you onto your stomach on the couch.
Your knees sank into the cushions, ass raised instinctively as he positioned you on all fours, the position exposing you completely—your cum-filled pussy still clenching around emptiness, a thick trail of his seed already dribbling down your inner thighs, mixing with your own arousal to create a sticky mess that cooled against your skin.
Nicholas knelt behind you, his large hands spreading your ass cheeks apart, thumbs pulling your folds open to expose the creamy white evidence of his release leaking from your hole. The sight made him snarl, tongue darting out to wet his lips as drool gathered at the corners of his mouth.
“Look at that,” he murmured, voice husky and reverent, one finger tracing the puffy lips of your pussy before dipping inside to scoop out a glob of his cum, bringing it to his mouth to suck clean with a lewd slurp. “All mine, dripping out of you. But I’m not finished breeding my pretty female.”
He lowered his head, rough tiger tongue lapping flat against your slit from clit to entrance in a long, deliberate stroke that gathered the mingled fluids—your wetness, his cum, the remnants of his saliva from before.
The texture rasped deliciously over your sensitive nerves, making you shudder and push back against his face. He groaned into you, the vibration humming through your core as he devoured you hungrily, tongue thrusting inside your pussy to fuck the leaking cum back in, swirling around to taste the salty-sweet blend. Drool spilled from his lips freely now, unchecked by his rut-fueled frenzy, coating your folds and dripping down to your clit, where he flicked the tip of his tongue rapidly, circling the swollen nub until your thighs trembled.
“Fuck, you taste so good with me,” he mumbled against your skin, words muffled as he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to sting.
His hands kneaded your ass, pulling you wider as his tongue delved deeper, lapping up every drop that escaped. But he didn’t stop there—his rut demanded more, every inch of you. With a possessive growl, he tilted his head lower, tongue tracing the path from your pussy up to your ass, over the sensitive skin of your perineum, until it reached the tight pucker of your asshole.
You gasped at the unexpected touch, body tensing, but he held you firm, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you arched.
“Relax, my female,” he soother, through his voice was edged with raw desire. His tongue circled your rim slowly, wetting the ring of muscle with broad, flat laps that made it clench and flutter.
He pushed the tip against the entrance, not breaching but teasing, rimming you with insistent pressure while his thumb rubbed circles over your clit to distract and heighten the sensation.
Saliva poured from his mouth, slicking your ass thoroughly, the wet sounds obscene as he ate you out from behind—tongue alternating between your pussy and asshole, dipping into one then dragging to the other, creating a filthy trail of spit and cum that soaked your thighs and the couch below.
Your body responded despite the novelty, hips rocking back to chase the pleasure, moans spilling from your lips as his rough tongue worked you open, the dual assault pushing you toward another edge.
He spent what felt like ages there, feasting on you relentlessly, his face buried between your cheeks as he licked and sucked, fingers joining to pump into your pussy alongside his tongue’s explorations. Two digits curled inside you, stroking that spongy spot while his mouth rimmed you, the combination filthy and overwhelming, your arousal spiking as drool and fluids smeared across his chin and your skin.
Nicholas panted heavily, his cock bobbing against his thighs, leaking fresh precum that splattered onto the cushions. The endless stamina of his rut kept him tireless, his tiger instincts driving him to prepare you, to claim every part without mercy.
Finally he pulled back with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his lips to your ass before snapping. His hands gripped your hips, yanking you back as he rose up, the head of his cock—thick, long and veined—nudging against your entrance.
“Want it in your ass too?” he asked, but his tone was teasing, almost mocking, as he rubbed the tip along your slick crack, bumping your rim just once. You whimpered, the contact electric, but he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Not today. My cum is only for our kits—gonna keep pumping it into this pussy until you’re bred full. That’s where it belongs, deep in your womb.”
With that, he thrust forward, slamming his cock balls-deep into your pussy in one brutal stroke. The stretch looked even more intense from this angle, his length spearing you open, the head battering your cervix as his hips met your ass with a resounding smack. You cried out, fingers clutching thecouch cushions, a string of “Weno” falling freely from your lips.
One large hand tangled in your hair, not pulling but guiding your face down, pressing your cheek firmly into the soft fabric of the cushion. “Stay down,” he ordered, voice a guttural command, his palm holding your head there as he began to fuck you from behind, each thrust driving deeper than the last.
The angle allowed him to hit places inside you that made your vision blur—his thick shaft dragging along your walls, the girth splitting you wide while the length punched into your depths, forcing out obscene squelches as his previous load churned with your fresh arousal.
He pushed your head harder into the cushions with every snap of his hips, muffling your moans as drool escaped your open mouth, soaking the fabric beneath your cheek. Your tiger drooled too, the rut making his control slip; saliva dripped from his fangs onto your back, trailing down your spine to pool where your bodies connected, adding to the slick mess that frothed around his cock with each withdrawal and plunge.
“Deeper—fuck, take it all,” he grunted, free hand spanking your ass sharply, making it sting as he redoubled his pace.
His thrusts grew savage, hips pistoning with animalistic force, balls slapping against your clit rhythmically, the impacts jolting pleasure through you. He leaned over your back, chest pressing down to cage you, his breath hot on your neck as he nipped at your shoulder, teeth grazing without breaking skin. The hand on your head kept you pinned, fingers splayed to hold you steady while he railed you, cock swelling thicker inside, another knot as he chased his release.
You felt every inch of him—the veins pulsing against your inner walls, the way his tip ground against your cervix with each deep hit, forcing more of his earlier cum to bubble out around his base, coating his sack and your thighs in a creamy sheen. Drool pooled under your mouth, your body limp and pliant under his dominance, waves of ecstasy building as he fucked you relentlessly.
Nicholas’ stamina showed no signs of waning; if anything, the rut fueled him, his growls turning to babbles of possession. “Gonna fill you again, female. Pump more of my seed in, make sure it takes. Pussy’s mine—squeezing me so tight, milking every drop.”
He hit deeper still, adjusting his angle to grind the head right against that barrier, the pressure intense and bordering on too much, but the pleasure overrode it all. Bot of you were lost in the haze, drool slicking skin and fabric, bodies slapping together in a rhythm that echoed through the apartment.
His knot began to inflate, catching on your entrance with each thrust, stretching you further as he barreled toward climax, determined to flood you once more with his intent to breed.
His pace turned frantic, hips slamming forward with unyielding force, the knot at the head of his cock inflating fully now, stretching your entrance to its limit as it locked in place just inside you. The pressure built unbearably, his thick shaft pulsing wildly, and then he came again, roaring through clenched teeth as ropes of hot cum erupted deep into your pussy.
Each spurt was forceful, splashing against your cervix and overflowing despite the seal, the escess bubbling out around the base to trickle down your thighs in sticky rivulets. He ground against you, hips circling to milk every last drop into your womb, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release, claws digging into your hips just enough to leave faint lines without drawing blood.
Nicholas collapsed over your back for a moment, chest heaving as he panted hot breaths against your neck, his orange eyes half-lidded in sated haze. But the rut’s fire still simmered, his endless stamina ensuring he wasn’t done—well, not by a long shot, at least.
With a low rumble in his throat, he eased back, his knot deflating, but still tugging insistently before popping free with a wet sound, unleashing a gush of his cum that poured from your abused hole, soaking the fabric beneath you. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, body trembling from the aftershocks, your pussy clenching around nothing as more of his seed leaked out, coating your skin in a glossy sheen.
Before you could fully collapse, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, flipping you onto your back once more with effortless strength.. The world spun briefly, your head landing softly against the armrest, legs splayed wide as you gasped for air, chest rising ans falling rapidly.
Your body ached in the best way—thighs quivering, core throbbing from the repeated poundings, skin slick with sweat, saliva and cum. Nicholas loomed over you, his muscular frame glistening, blonde mullet damp—now with sweat—and tousled, those piercing orange eyes fixed on you with a mix of feral hunger and tender possession. His cock, still rock-hard, jutted out proudly, smeared with your combined fluids.
You were still catching your breath, lungs burning, when the urge hit you—a deep, needy craving to taste him, to give back some of the pleasure he’d wrung from you. Despite his earlier words about saving his cum for your pussy, for breeding kits, you reached out, fingers wrapping arund his slick length, stroking tentatively.
“Let me… Wanna taste you, Weno,” you murmured, voice hoarse and breathless, eyes pleading up at him as your legs wobbled even from the slight shift in position.
He paused, a growl vibrating in his chest, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb tracing your swollen lips. The rut made him possessive, every instinct screaming to claim your cunt again, to flood it with more seed. But seeing you like this—flushed, marked as his, offering yourself so willingly—stirred something softer amid the primal drive.
“Fuck,” he muttered, orange eyes darkening with lust. “You need a break, don’t you?” still, you caught a glint of regret in his eyes.
“Weno, just sit back and relax, yeah? Your female is gonna do the work and you just… relax,” you said, caressing his body as he stepped back to lean against the sofa’s edge, broad shoulders relaxing as he spread his legs slightly, cock bobbing invitingly.
You slid off the couch onto your knees before him, the carpet rough against your skin, but you didn’t care—your focus was solely on him. Legs still shaking from the relentless fucking, you steadied yourself with your hands on his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles tense under your touch, black stripes flexing subtly.
His scent enveloped you—musky arousal, sweat, and the faint wild tang of his hybrid nature—making your mouth water. You leaned in, nuzzling your cheek against the base of his cock first, inhaling deeply as you pressed soft kisses along the veiny underside, tasting the salty mix of his cum and your pussy on your lips.
Nicholas groaned, one hand threading into your hair, not pulling but guiding, fingers massaging your scalp as he watched you with hooded eyes.
“That’s it, take your time. Show me how much you want this cock.” Emboldened, you parted your lips, tongue darting out to lick a broad stripe from his balls to the tip, gathering the smeared fluids with a hum of appreciation.
His sack hung heavy, skin taut and warm, and you didn’t hesitate—sucking one ball into your mouth gently, rolling it on your tongue while your hand pumped the shaft slowly, twisting at the head to coax out fresh beads of precum.
The taste exploded on your tongue—bitter-salty precum mingling with the creamy remnants of his earlier releases, thick and coating your mouth like a forbidden treat. You released his ball with a pop, saliva stringing from your lips to the damp skin, and moved to the other, lavishing it with wet, slurping sucks that made obscene sounds fill the room.
Drool already gathered at the corners of your mouth, your own arousal spiking as you worked him, pussy clenching emptily and leaking more of his cum onto the floor between your knees.
Shifting higher, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, sucking greedily on the flared tip, tongue swirling into the slit to lap up the steady drip of precum. He was so thick, your jaw aching slightly as you stretched your mouth wider, taking inch after inch past your lips.
The veins pulsed against your tongue, the heat of him searing as you bobbed shallowly at first, hollowing your cheeks to create suction that drew a hiss from him.
“Shit, yeah—just like that. Deeper, female. I know you can take it.” His voice was rough, hips twitching forward instinctively, but he held back, leting you set the pace while his free hand gripped the sofa behind him for support.
You obliged, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, gagging softly when the head bumped the back of your mouth, but you powered through, saliva flooding to ease the way. Inch by veiny inch disappeared between your lips, until your nose brushed the coarse blonde hairs at his base, his cock fully sheated in the wet heat of your mouth.
Tears pricked your eyes from the stretch, but the thrill of it—feeling him throb on your tongue, hearing his ragged breaths—made it all worthwhile. You held there for a beat, swallowing around him to massage his length, the constriction pulling a moan from deep in his chest.
Pulling back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock, you dove in again, setting a sloppy rhythm. Your head bobbed faster now, lips sliding messily along his shaft, saliva dribbling down your chin and onto his balls, soaking them further.
The blowjob turned filthy—wet slurps and gags echoing as you choked yourself on his length, one hand bracing on his thighs while the other fondled his sack, rolling and tugging gently. Drool poured freely, mixing with precum to create a slick froth that coated his cock and your fingers, dripping onto your breasts and the floor in lewd patters.
Nicholas’ control frayed, his hand tightening in your hair as he started to thrust shallowly, fucking your mouth with controlled snaps of his hips.
“Look at you, drooling all over my dick like a good little female. Fuck, your mouth’s so hot,” you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs quake, and redoubled your efforts, tongue pressing flat against the underside to trace every ridge and vein as you deepthroated him repeatedly.
Gagging sounds grew louder, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, running in rivulets down your neck, but you didn’t stop—hollowing your cheeks on the upstroke, swirling your tongue on the down, determined to make it as messy and intense as his rut demanded.
He watched you intently, orange eyes blazing, fangs peeking as he panted. “Gonna cum soon… female,” the warning sent a shiver through you, your wobbly legs pressing together to ease the ache in your core, but you focused on him, sucking with renewed vigor.
Your jaw burned, throat raw, but the sloppy glide of his cock—slick with your saliva, precum oozing steadily—kept you going. You popped off briefly to catch your breath, hand jerking him furiously, twisting over the head while your tongue lapped at the slit, then plunged back down, taking him to the hilt again.
The room filled with the sounds of your devotion, wet smacks of lips on skin, your muffled whimpers, his deepening growls. Saliva slicked everything, your chin shiny and dripping, his cock a mess of spit and veins standing out darkly. You felt him sweel thicker on your tongue, the knot beginning to form, pressing against your lips as you worked the shaft.
“Close—fuck, yes,” he grunted, hips bucking erratically now, hand guiding your head to meet his thrusts. You let him use your mouth, relaxing as he fucked deeper, the head battering your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the drool.
With a final, savage thrust, Nicholas came, cock pulsing as thick jets of cum shot straight down your throat. You swallowed convulsively, the hot, salty flood overwhelming but you took it greedily, gulping around him to milk every spurt.
Excess spilled past your lips anyway, dribbling down your chin in white streaks as he kept pumping, his endless stamina ensuring the orgasm dragged on, filling your mouth until you had to pull back slightly, the last ropes landing on your tongue for you to savour. He shuddered, groaning your name as you licked him clean, tongue tracing every inch to gather the remnants, swallowing with a satisfied hum.
Panting you knelt there, legs trembling harder now, face a wreck of spit, cum and tears, but a triumphant smile curved your lips as you looked up at him. Nicholas pulled you up gently, drawing you into his lap as he sat fully on the sofa, his cock still semi-hard against your thigh, ready for more.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, the rut’s fire reigniting in his eyes. “Rest a second. Then I’m breeding that pussy again.”
But his hands were already roaming your body, fingers digging into your hips as he lifted you effortlessly to position you on your back again, knees drawn up to your chest, exposing your dripping folds completely.
“Need to fill you up,” he growled, eyes locked on your core as he aligned his cock, the thick head nudging your entrance before thrusting in with one brutal snap of his hips.
The stretch burned deliciously, his veined length bottoming out against your cervix in an instant. You cried out, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails over his tiger-striped muscles. He didn’t hold back—pounding into you with feral rhythm, the sofa creaking under the force as his balls slapped wetly against your ass.
Drool escaped his parted lips, fangs glinting, and he leaned down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling sloppily while saliva swapped between you. His thrusts grew erratic, hips grinding to bury deeper, and soon his knot swelled, locking him inside as he came with a roar, hot spurts flooding your womb until cum overflowed, soaking the cushions and your skin.
He stayed knotted for what felt like ages, panting against your neck, nipping lightly without breaking skin this time. When it deflated enough, he pulled out with an obscene squelch, a torrent of his release gushing from you onto the sofa. But he wasn’t satisfied—far from it.
Scooping you up, he carried you across the living room, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. “Every inch of this place is gonna smell like us.” He pressed yuo against the wall near the bookshelf, the cool surface a stark contrast to his scorching body.
Hours blurred like this in the living room—him flipping you onto the coffee table next, your back on the glass surface as he folded you in half, legs over his shoulders while he drilled down into you. The table shook, threatening to crack under his weight, your heels digging into his back as you clawed at his arms. Cum from earlier encounters smeared across the table, mixing with fresh sweat and spit as he came again, knot tying you together while he ground against you, ensuring every drop stayed buried.
By the time he carried you to the kitchen, your body was a wreck—limbs jelly, skin painted in bites and handprints, pussy raw and overflowing. The clock showed three in the afternoon, but time meant nothing in the haze of his rut. He set you on the counter, the cold granite shocking against your heated ass, spreading your thighs wide as he stepped between them.
“Hungry for more?” he teased, but his eyes were wild, cock throbbing as he rubbed the head along your slit, coating himself in the mess leaking from you. You nodded weakly, pulling him closer, and he thrust in deep, the counter digging into your back as he fucked you with long, deliberate strokes.
Kitchen tools clattered to the floor from the force, a spoon rolling away as his hips battered yours. He grabbed a nearby apple from the bowl, biting into it with a crunch before offering you a piece, juice dribbling down his chin to mix with the sweat on his chest. You licked it off him, the sweet tang contrasting the salty musk, and he groaned, picking up speed. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly to angle deeper, cock dragging over that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyes.
Drool pooled on the counter from your open-mouthed gasps, and he leaned in to lap at it, tongue tracing your lips before shoving it into your mouth for another sloppy exchange.
“Taste yourself on me,” he commanded, pulling out briefly to smear his cock—glistening with your cream—across your lips.
You sucked the tip eagerly, tongue cleaning the veins before he plunged back in, fucking you harder now, the cabinets rattling behind you. Your ass slid on the counter from the building slick—cum, arousal, sweat creating a slippery puddle that dripped to the floor. He pinched your clit between thrusts, rolling it until you squirted, soaking his groin and the cabinets below.
Nicholas laughed darkly, the sound turning to a growl as his knot began to form, swelling to stretch you impossibly as he came, flooding you anew, the overflow cascading down the counter like a filthy waterfall.
He didn't let you rest—hoisting you onto the kitchen table next, clearing it with a sweep of his arm that sent plates crashing. On your stomach, ass up, he mounted you from behind, one foot on a chair for leverage as he pounded relentlessly.
His claws scraped the wood, leaving gouges, while his teeth sank into your shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood this time—the metallic tang mixing with his saliva as he licked the wound.
“Mine,” he snarled between thrusts, hips slamming so hard the table legs scraped across the tile. You pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm, pussy clenching to pull him deeper, the wet slaps echoing louder than the mess.
Sweat flew with each impact, your hair matted to your forehead, his blonde mullet swinging as he rutted. He reached under to finger your clit, two digits circling roughly while his cock stretched you, building you to another peak.
When you came, it was with a wail, juices spraying back onto his thighs, and he followed immediately, knot locking as cum erupted, filling you until it backed up and squirted out with every tiny movement. The table was ruined—scratches, fluids pooling in the grooves, the air thick with sex.
Exhaustion tugged at you, but his stamina was inhuman, the rut keeping him hard and insatiable. “Shower—need to clean you up just to dirty you again,” he murmured, lifting you once more, your arms looping around his neck as he carried you down the hall.
The bathroom door banged open, steam already rising from the hot water he must have turned on earlier in his frenzy. He stepped under the spray—both of you bare and filthy— the water cascading over his muscles, washing away some of the grime but not the heat.
Pinning you against the tiled wall, he hiked your leg up, sliding his cock home with ease, the water making everything slicker, louder. The showerhead pounded on his back as he thrust up into you, water streaming down your faces, mixing with tears of overstimulation and fresh drool from your kisses.
He panted, sucking on your neck, leaving a fresh hickey amid the bites. His hands roamed, one squeezing your ass, finger teasing your rim briefly before pulling away—sticking to his rule, no cum there.
You clung to him, nails in his shoulders, as he fucked you standing, the water turning the floor hazardous with soap and fluids. He spun you to face the wall, hands braced on the tiles, and entered from behind, the new depth making you keen.
His chest pressed to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you steady while the other rubbed your breasts, tweaking nipples until they ached. Drool mixed with water on your chin as you moaned, head lolling back against his shoulder for sloppy, waterlogged kisses.
The steam thickened the air, scents of soap undercut by raw sex—his knot swelled again under the spray, tying you as he came, hot seed pumping into you while water rinsed the excess down the drain in white swirls. But he kept going even knotted, rocking gently to prolong it, then pulling out to bend you over the shower bench.
On your knees now, ass presented, he ate you out first—tongue delving into your cum-filled pussy, lapping up his own release mixed with water, sucking your clit until you shuddered through another orgasm, squirting into his mouth.
Satisfied, he stood and thrust back in, fucking you over the bench with hands gripping your hips, water splashing everywhere. The shower lasted ages—him switching positions, from behind to pulling you onto his lap on the floor, riding him reverse as water poured over you both. Each climax built on the last, his loads filling you repeatedly, knotting until your pussy overflowed constantly, the drain struggling with the deluge of cum, water, and arousal.
Now, after the rut's frenzy had finally ebbed away, leaving your bodies exhausted and sated, you found yourselves tangled in the rumpled sheets of Nicholas's bed.
The apartment was quiet, the earlier chaos of slick trails and scattered clothes a distant memory as the night deepened. His massive form sprawled beneath you, chest rising and falling in steady rhythms, amber eyes half-lidded with a lingering haze of contentment. The feral orange glow had faded completely, replaced by the warm, golden hue that always made your heart stutter—his true self emerging from the beast.
You shifted atop him, thighs bracketing his hips, feeling the persistent heat of his cock pressing against your inner thigh. Even softened by the hours of relentless breeding, it stirred at your proximity, thickening slightly as you reached down to grasp it.
Your fingers wrapped around the veined length, guiding the flushed head to your entrance where his previous loads still leaked from you in slow, creamy dribbles.
The air smelled of sex—musky sweat, drying cum, and the faint tang of your combined arousal—but it felt right, intimate in the afterglow.
With a soft exhale, you sank down onto him, the stretch familiar now, your pussy yielding easily to his girth. Inch by inch, he filled you again, the ridges along his shaft dragging against your sensitive walls, coated in the messy remnants of your union. Nicholas groaned, a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest, his hands coming up to rest lightly on your hips—not to control, but to steady, thumbs tracing idle patterns over your skin.
"Easy, female... just like this," he murmured, voice husky and roughened from all the snarls and growls earlier, but laced with tenderness now.
You began to move, rolling your hips in a slow, unhurried grind, lifting until just the tip remained inside before descending fully, taking him to the hilt. Each descent pressed his pubic bone against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.
Your breasts swayed gently with the motion, heavy and aching from the marathon of stimulation—his bites, the constant friction, the way he'd kneaded and sucked them raw. As you ground down harder on one particularly deep stroke, a sharp twinge bloomed in your chest, and you felt it: warm liquid beading at your nipples, trickling in thin streams down the swells of your breasts.
Milk. Just a few drops at first, pearly white against your flushed skin, but enough to catch the dim light from the bedside lamp.
Nicholas's eyes locked onto the sight immediately, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the subtle, sweet scent wafting from you. His pupils blew wide, amber darkening, and a fresh wave of hunger washed over his features—not the savage rut-lust, but something deeper, more possessive, like a mate envisioning his legacy taking root.
"Gods... you're leaking for me," he breathed, voice slurring with awe and need, one hand sliding up your side to cup the underside of your breast, lifting it toward his mouth.
He latched on without pause, lips sealing around your nipple, tongue pressing flat against the bud as he sucked—firm, insistent pulls that made your back arch. The sensation shot straight to your pussy, walls clenching around his cock in rhythmic squeezes, milking him in response.
You moaned, hands planting on his pectorals for balance, nails digging into the striped muscle as you continued your calm ride. His free hand mirrored the first, kneading your other breast, thumb circling the nipple until more milk welled up, spilling over his fingers. He broke away briefly to lick the droplets from his skin, then switched sides, mouth enveloping the untouched peak with a wet slurp.
Saliva dripped from his lips, mixing with the milk as it flowed freer now, encouraged by his eager nursing. He swallowed greedily, throat working around each draw, a soft growl vibrating against your flesh that made your clit throb.
"Taste so fucking good... my mate, bet you're full of our kits already," he mumbled between sucks, words muffled and dazed, his hips twitching up lazily to meet your descents.
He was pussydrunk on you—lost in the velvet grip of your heat, the way your juices soaked his balls with every roll of your hips, the intimate proof of your fertility dripping into his mouth. His cock pulsed inside you, not swelling to knot, but thickening just enough to stretch you further, the head nudging your cervix with each gentle thrust.
You picked up the pace fractionally, circling your hips to grind deeper, feeling the squelch of old cum being pushed out around his base, trickling down to coat his sack and the sheets below. The bed creaked softly under your movements, a far cry from the frantic slamming against walls and counters earlier.
Nicholas's hands roamed now, one staying at your breast to coax more milk—squeezing the globe until streams arced into his waiting mouth—while the other traced the faint swell of your belly, fingers splaying wide as if he could feel the life stirring there.
"Gonna keep you like this... swollen, leaking, all mine," he rasped, eyes glassy and unfocused, completely immersed in the fantasy of breeding you over and over.
The pull of his mouth grew hungrier, teeth grazing the sensitive areola just enough to sting sweetly, tongue lashing the nipple before he sucked harder, drawing out longer spurts that he lapped up like nectar.
Drool escaped the corners of his lips, trailing down your chest in shiny paths, pooling in the valley between your breasts. You whimpered, the dual sensations overwhelming—his cock dragging along your front wall, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids, and the relentless nursing sending jolts to your core. Your thighs trembled, slick with sweat and arousal, inner muscles fluttering as pleasure built in languid waves.
He released your nipple with a lewd pop, milk-smeared lips glistening as he gazed up at you, expression one of utter devotion.
"Harder—female, please... wanna feel you cum around my cock while I drink from you." His voice was a plea, soft and wrecked, urging you on without demand.
You obliged, lifting and dropping with more purpose, the slap of skin on skin echoing quietly, your pussy clenching to pull him deeper. He dove back in, alternating between breasts now, sucking one while pinching the other, ensuring both leaked steadily—warm rivulets soaking his chin, dripping onto his throat and chest hair.
Time blurred in the haze, your bodies syncing in a slow-building rhythm, breaths panting in unison. His balls drew up tight against you, the vein along his shaft throbbing as he fought to hold back, savoring every slide into your heat. You ground down fully, circling to rub your clit against him, the friction igniting a coil in your belly that wound tighter with each pass.
Milk continued to flow, spurred by the motion and his touches, and Nicholas hummed in bliss, swallowing it down as if it were the sweetest elixir, his pussydrunk state deepening into blissful oblivion.
"Close... fuck, you're gonna make me—" His words cut off in a groan as you clenched deliberately, walls rippling around him. The orgasm hit you first, cresting like a gentle tide—your pussy spasming in long, undulating pulses, juices gushing out to drench his groin. You cried out, head falling back, breasts jiggling as milk sprayed lightly from the peaks. Nicholas latched on through it, sucking harder to capture every drop, his own release triggered by the sight and feel of you unraveling.
He thrust up shallowly, once, twice, then held deep as he came—thick ropes of cum flooding your depths, mixing with the rest in warm, overflowing spurts.
No knot this time, just the intimate spill as he filled you one last time that night, body shuddering beneath yours.
You collapsed forward onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely, cock softening inside as aftershocks rippled through you both. He nuzzled your hair, lips brushing your temple, the taste of milk still on his breath.
"My everything... rest now, love. We've got forever." The words faded into murmurs as sleep claimed you, entwined in the quiet peace of your bond.
スカイ ﹕ finally after a few... weeks ig it's DONE!! omg i can't believe i'm crying tears of full happiness!! it's not proofread (i am tired of this one goddamn) so if you see any mistakes, you didn't. at least i learned a lot of new words awooooo
🌊summary : moving to Hawaii with your boyfriend opened up more opportunities than you would ever have thought so. In so many ways, you have been feeling trapped in your relationship. You went to multiple therapists, but they could never give you good advice. But it seems like therapists in Honolulu had a different mindset than in Portland. So, what happens when you go to a surf instructor your therapist recommended, who is way hotter than you expected? And you don't even know it yet, but as time passes even more opportunities will open up for you when you get closer with him...
🌊 genre : angst, smut, strangers to lovers
🌊 tags : cheating (kinda) , soft nicholas, gentle nicholas, pussy drunk nicholas, eating out, cowgirl, experienced nicholas, kinda inexperienced reader, jealous nicholas (YUMMM), unprotected sex (don't do this folks), whiny nicholas and lowkey a little bit submissive, dacryphilia , whimpering, usage of jagiya, harumaki if you squint but only if you squint, hickeys, nicholas loves tits, missionary
🌊wc : 14k
๑ ๑ ๑ song: cool for the summer - demi lovato ๑ ๑ ๑
🌊notes : first fanfic posted on here yeeeey!! sorry is anything is inaccurate i never been in either portland or hawaii lmao. i thought this was going to be a small ff, smut with some plot but... angst happened. BUT this is not a problem since we love drama obvi. reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated, they keep me motivated🥹 but even if you just take your time and read this, it means a lot. hope you enjoy!!
He set his cup down on the glass table and crossed his legs. Sitting in a red velvet armchair, he looked like a therapist straight out of a movie. Was it a great first impression? you didn't exactly know either.
On one hand, he looked trustful for sure. Maybe you've been watching way too many dramas with the same plot. A teenage girl has problems in school, then flashes to a few scenes with her therapist, who makes her realize that all she needs is love. And the girl is just like 'wait, yes' then just goes and dates the basketball captain.
You wish it was easy like that. But you weren't in school anymore, and it was never really that easy for you. In highschool, quite literally you were the biggest loser in the world. Someone who even grimaced at the thought of someone loving her deeply, cause even the thought made you seem like it was a joke or something.
Looking back, high school was the most horrible thing to happen to you. You had friends, but nobody was ever interested in you. And missing out on that well-known teenage romance was a hard pill to swallow, but you accepted your fate after a while.
Then, in your last year, it happened. The thing that you thought never would. Someone asked you out, and that someone was none other than Byun Eui-joo, one of the players of the local water polo team. Everybody knew him as EJ.
He wasn't the most popular and known guy in the school, but he was for sure one of them big dogs. After all, he got a nickname, and not everybody was important enough to get a nickname. For example, you didn't get one. Never, from anybody.
So, after EJ asked you out, you obviously agreed right away. The first date was so awkward you would never go back to that again, but he was so giggly and cute that your heart nearly melted. Soon, you guys started dating.
But after five years, here you are in your freshly chosen therapist’s room, telling him all about EJ and how he's annoying you even more by every passing day. He's looking at you through his square glasses, and he would look intimidating if you would think deeper into it, but you are too carried away. Your words just flow out of your mouth like a waterfall, and someone finally listens. That's all you wanted, since your boyfriend is not capable of that.
“That's interesting” The therapist looked down on his notes and flipped a page, looking like he would rather be anywhere than this room.
Your eyes nearly twitched “That's all? Interesting?”
He looked up without lifting his head, eyes glancing up above his silver glasses. “Is this your first day here? In Hawaii”
You nodded your head “Yes. I just moved here, like two days ago, but we could call it my first day. I haven't had time to get out of my new house. There's too much unresolved stuff”
He hummed, and for a moment you swear you could feel his judgement. That can't be true, right? This is his job, he is supposed to listen.
“You are telling me that the first thing after you got out of your house was to go to a therapy session?”
You gulped. Well, if he worded it like that, it for sure seemed like fatal trouble. But you weren't desperate for answers. You just wanted good advice, or just anyone to listen to you.
“I mean— I—” you stumbled over your words “I just can't take the arguments anymore. I need a solution”
He wrote something down, the silence in the room suffocating. The only sound being his pen as it chiseled into the paper was the most embarrassing thing you have experienced in a while. It made you think about what he could be writing.
He turned his head to look outside on the big window that screeched from the room’s ceiling to the floor. The view was straight up amazing from the small room, the beach and the sea’s beautiful image seductively calling you to go down and dip into the water.
The whole session felt so odd. You were uncomfortable, and as the time kept passing and you kept glancing at the clock on the wall, you realized this is surely not how it was supposed to go.
He wasn't even replying to you most of the times, he just scrabbled down stuff in his notebook like it was some fucking interview.
You were about forty minutes into the session when you let out a sigh and let your back hit the backrest of the cushion.
He glanced up from the notebook, eyes heavy on you.
And before you could stop and think, the words slipped out of your mouth “Do you have a solution or any advice? Or should I walk out helpless?”
One more moment of silence. A big one.
He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, since it began to slide down. Then, he lifted his chin up. “Yes, actually”
The words made your eyes widen slightly. You didn't think this session was going to end up anywhere. In fact, the past forty minutes seemed like you wasted it from your precious life.
You sat up straight “And what is it?”
“Try a sport”
You knitted your brows together in confusion. This was an answer you should’ve seen coming, just pure bullshit that doesn't make sense.
As if he could read your mind, he began to explain. “I know what you think. But I’m not insane, I promise. We just have our things… different here. You said you came from Portland, right?”
You nod your head.
“You probably had a way more different life so far than you will living here. Look outside, it's so sunny, and happy, isn't it?”
You turn your head to the gigantic window you were just looking out on a few minutes ago. The beach life was still active, loads of people were in the water, or on the sand tanning.
“Yes, it is” You agree.
“Have you ever tried any watersports?” He asks kindly, a subtle smile on his face now. Okay, that proves he may not be that bad after all. At least he doesn't look like a serial killer now. He should smile more.
You think it through, but you realize you don't have to think that much when you can barely even swim. “Not really”
“Great!” He claps his hands together, pure excitement radiating from his expression “Now it's time, then.” He looks at the clock, then stands up to guide you out when he sees the one hour has passed.
“Sadly, our time is over” He says, and you stand up too to shake hands.
“Thank you, and I will take your advice” You say slightly bowing to show respect as you shake his hand.
“It’ll help, trust me. I’m going to send you one of my friend’s social media pages, if that's okay. That man is an expert!” He even lets out a laugh, and you respond with a chuckle on your own too.
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Two days have passed since the therapy session with your new therapist, but you still haven't gotten that message. Honestly, you weren't even sure if he told you the truth or not. What if he just made that friend up in his own mind? He seems like the kind of person who would do that.
You kept on wondering while standing in the kitchen, slicking up tomatoes for your and EJ’s lunch. It has been a while since you and him ate together, and you thought it might be a good idea to make his favorite dish for this special event.
He wasn't home since he already found a job, though you moved in only a few days ago. When he stated that and you questioned him, he just said he already got the job when you lived in Portland. He just didn't tell you about it.
Typical EJ. Sometimes you catch yourself wondering: when did you ruin your relationship with him? But every time this crosses your mind, you shake the thoughts away.
Now there's a different thought that gets into your mind. Was it worth it to move to Hawaii? Will things work out with him? You wanted to believe that you moved here for fun, and to change the environment around you. But deep down, you knew the truth. Of course you did, because you and him talked about it.
Because your old therapist told you on the couple therapy sessions every time. ‘Try a vacation. You don't have to move if it's not that bad… even a simple vacation could help’
Seems like it was that bad that you had to move. And that made your heart ache, every time you remembered his face, his emotionless face when he told you he thinks it could be the best if you move out of your hometown. You lived your whole life in Portland.
But EJ was the only boy who ever loved you, and you knew you can't lose him. Even if he doesn't feel anything. Even if you don-
The buzz of your phone on the countertop makes you get out of your head, the sudden sound scares you so bad that you accidentally cut your index finger with the sharp knife.
You cuss, then look at the phone.
+1 808 777 7777: Here's the guy I was talking about.
LINK
Have a nice day!
You almost immediately drop the knife on the countertop to suck the flowing blood from your finger while with your left hand, you clumsily pick up the phone to open the message.
Opening the link your therapist sent you, even your breath stuck in your throat. You were expecting everything but this sight.
A guy, probably around the same age as you, in his early twenties. His social media account didn't look like some millennial or a pr team made it. Instead, it was filled with pictures where he was with his friends, pictures of him, places he went to and stuff. Just like if he had a normal life.
This wasn't shocking just as itself. The only thing that shocked you was that this therapist knew people like this. Cool people.
You scroll up back onto the top of the page to read his bio. There weren't many things written on it, only a few casual information like his age or what country he lives in. His email was also there, where you could contact him. What your eyes stopped on was the very top line.
Surf Instructor.
Your stomach twirled at the thought of standing on a surf board and riding waves. No. That was way too out of your comfort zone. Especially with this guy. He looked way too cool compared to you, he seemed someone that genuinely enjoyed living to the fullest. Someone who had zero insecurities or problems.
You just couldn't imagine yourself surfing with this man. Or even being by the beach with him, your body made yourself nearly throw up every time you glanced at it in the mirror.
You stopped sucking on your finger for a moment, just to type back a message to your therapist quickly.
you: surfing? no
Short, but it says everything he needs to know. Maybe he might think you are being rude, but… who does he think he is, really? Yes, you are there to ask for advice but if he gives you something stupid like surfing, then he shouldn't be surprised at your reaction.
You don't even have time to put the phone down and continue chopping the tomatoes when it buzzes in your hand, a not so delightful message flashing on the screen.
+1 808 777 7777: Already booked an appointment for tomorrow 10 am. Be there, the guy’s schedule is way too tight.
No way back now :)
You scoff in anger, practically throwing the phone on the counter. It ends up in the tomatoes, but you don't even care about that. What the hell does this guy think? Just because he's a therapist he can't make decisions instead of you.
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After many many internal fights with yourself, you decided that maybe, maybe he was right. This whole moving out is to test waters, which became… quite literal. Coming out of your comfort zone can be positive, right? You asked yourself this exact question and nothing else while you took the bus to the beach.
Yesterday afternoon wasn't the most pleasant thing you've ever experienced. EJ came home pretty late, and the lunch you made became a dinner, but it also became cold and sticky. He didn't enjoy it, and he voiced it.
You were about to cry yourself to sleep, because EJ probably had such a bad day at work. He just started at his new workplace, but it was already stressful for him and it was very obvious that he took the tension out on you with his constant remarks.
Moving was a shit idea. Spending loads of money on a house in the beautiful Hawaii was a shittier idea. You should've stayed in the gloomy and crimeful Portland.
The sand got in your sandals, and it was pretty irritating having it stuck to your feet and having it between your toes, you couldn't care less about it.
Your mind was already spiraling on lunch. You should be in the kitchen right now. It’s just a little bit past nine, but you should be already cooking. What if you don't have food on the table by the time EJ comes home?
Will he be mad?
No, he will probably come home at night anyways. You have plenty of time today. A simple surf lesson won't hurt you or him. But if he finds out you found a therapist for yourself, now, that's a different story. That would mean the end of you.
You looked over at the sea, the sun had just started coming up not so long ago, and its rays covered the top of the water, making it look like a golden bridge made out of veil.
You get your phone out of your pocket and take a photo of it. Kind of a weird habit, but you always take pictures of everything you find pretty. Especially clouds. If it looks like something, your phone is already in your hand.
You closed the camera app and the next thing you do is check the address your therapist sent you yesterday. You let your feet sink in the sand while you do it, your sandals fully covered in sand now.
“Where the fuck…” You mutter when you type it in the maps application, but you waste no time and start walking again. His workplace was pretty far away from… everything.
You kept on walking anyways, and just a little bit before 10 am you approached the place you tapped in google maps. A house.
That's it. Nothing else. Far away from the other houses or the high skyscrapers. Just a small outcrop of sand that looked like a small island but still, it wasn't because it was connected to the beachside with sand and not water.
The small island however looked like it was made for that house. A few palm trees were around it, and it was made out of mainly wood and bamboo. The roof was apparently made of reeds, but you weren't exactly sure.
You attempted to walk closer, and as you approached, you realized this was probably where he actually lived. You could sneak a glance at the inside of the house since the windows were pretty big and there wasn't any glass or curtains that would cover up the sight, just a mosquito net, and it looked like a real home.
“Hey!” A kind voice came from behind your back just as you were about to go closer to the bamboo house, and it made you immediately turn around.
Just like that, you were facing the boy you’ve seen in the photos. In real life size, he looked way cooler than in those photos. His hair was red, even though in some of the photos it was either bleached or black. It all suited him, but seeing it red in real life made you sure that it was absolutely the best choice to dye it.
Suddenly, you felt tight in your own skin. Too big in your clothes. Too small next to him, but that behavior screamed pick me. You never understood the girls in high school who always complained how ‘small’ they feel. But now, you got it.
You swallowed hard, trying to erase the weird tug in your stomach. Feeling anxious when meeting next people was normal for you, but it was never this bad. It might be because it's just you and him.
He reached out his hand, gesturing you to shake it as an introduction. You did it, mumbling your name with a nearly trembling voice.
“Nicholas Wang” He said it back, his voice way more firm than yours. “Nice to meet you”
“Yeah, nice to meet you too” You tried to smile too, but failed miserably.
“So,” He clapped his hands together and looked you up and down “welcome to my place. I guess I should show you around a little bit. You seem nervous”
Your body stills at the call-out, but you don't say anything. What happened? Where’s your voice? You are supposed to spend the next two hours with this man, who is, let's just say… nevermind.
You nod your head and follow him as he gestures the way with a head tilt.
First, he takes you next to the house. There's a small garage or something like that. It’s like his house, but a smaller version. You didn't even see it at first. He opens up the door, and you are faced with a bunch of surfing boards.
“This is where I keep my work stuff” He explains “You can choose which one you want” He smirks down at you, but you just glance at his face for a moment.
When you finished looking around, he closed the door. “Are you nervous?”
You swallow again, feeling like your legs are about to give up at any moment. So fucking embarrassing. “I- a little bit, maybe. I've never been to a… instructor, to be honest” you giggle, but it has no humor to it.
Instead of laughing, he nods like he agrees or something. “Oh, I get it. But you need to loosen up. I hope I can reach that”
He smirks and gives a pat to your shoulder, and you smile back too, even though you feel the apples of your cheeks get red.
You look at the bamboo house, the question not leaving your head. You even decide to voice it out “Do you live here?”
He nods proudly “Yes, I built the house actually. I used to live here with my friends but they moved away eventually”
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The waters were pretty calm today, and it was not too sunny. It definitely wasn't on the level where your whole body felt like burning after being in the sun for more than five minutes.
After around one hour into the lesson, there were more things you could take important notes of. First of all, therapists are right, even when it seems like they don't know what they're doing. They do. Coming out of your comfort zone can be nice, actually, fantastic, you just need to find the right way to do so.
Second, Nicholas is a good talker. This might be because he is a professional surfing instructor, but he knows how to talk to people. You loosened up after forty minutes, and you definitely wasn't feeling as anxious as before.
One thing for sure, he might look super ‘cool’ in photos, and he is in real life too. But that doesn't purposely mean that he will judge you in your swimming suit, even if you cried over it last night. He also doesn't care about how your hair sits on the top of your head. He is a surfing instructor, a teacher after all. You are not here to make friends.
“You already do so good, y/n!” He praises, watching you lay on the surfing board and swimming with your hands. “If you keep being so good, we might reach the point where you stand up next lesson”
“Already? Isn't that too soon?” You ask, genuinely shocked.
He shakes his head, his wet strands of hair flying around his head “Nope. I'm actually not joking, you are one of the best students I’ve gotten”
You tilt your head, swimming closer to where he was sitting on his board. “Do you say this to every single one of your students, or am I special?”
He lets out a small giggle, dropping his head “No, I don't. You really are special. I guess”
“Wow, I'm honored” You sit up on your board, now being about one metre far away from him.
For a moment, he just stares at you. You look down, taking a deep breath. “I can't believe you live like this”
He widens his eyes, the sentence probably catching him off guard. “What? Like how?”
“I don't know” You shrug “So…Calm. Your life is peaceful. You live right next to the sea, you have always been living here and I don't know. It makes me jealous.”
He laughs awkwardly again, hopping off of the board. The two hours had passed and it was time to get out of the water. You couldn't even believe the lesson was already over.
“Jealous?” Is all he says.
You gulp as you step out on the beach, sand sticking to your feet. You don't know what to say exactly. Nicholas seems like such an interesting person with an interesting life. While all you do is cook for your boyfriend who doesn't even come home, just sometimes. The worst thing is that you will probably marry that man. No, actually, the worst thing is that you are attached to him. You can't leave him, he has filled up your life ever since your teenage years.
“Can I be honest?”
He looks at you, rather concerned and scared than funny like how he looked the whole session. But he nods, and that's all you care about.
“I feel like I want to know everything about you and your life”
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two weeks later
EJ comes home way sooner than he usually does, and that kind of catches you off guard. He texted you saying you don't have to prepare any lunch. That's another thing that catches you off guard.
But that meant you had time. You used that time to go to a surfing lesson. In the past two weeks, you went almost every day if not every day. You weren't sure about the stuff that your therapist said about Nicholas having a ‘tight schedule’ cause somehow when you texted him ‘can i come now?’, he always replied with yes.
That's how it went today too. EJ texted you that he will come home at two pm. He sent the message at eight am.
You went to Nicholas straight away.
You weren't exactly sure why you were enjoying this whole sport thingy so much. The surfing part didn't even excite you that much. It was probably the easiest sport of all the time, but Nicholas kept praising you about how good you were compared to others. And that made you feel special.
Nicholas was your teacher, but it felt like with all the meet ups every day that you guys have become friends by now.
The best thing was that you and him could talk about anything. You were keeping it professional and you didn't talk about private life, but everything going on in the world, or just casual stuff. It felt refreshing.
And sometimes, lately, the time you were spending together wasn't purposely surfing lessons. Sometimes he just invited you inside his bamboo house, and you talked. Drank wine. Okay, that only happened once. But it still happened.
You went to him again like always, and you were sitting on his couch, next to each other. You talked the time away quickly. It passed so fast that you didn't even realize that it was already half past two.
“I’m just saying! The red looks amazing” You say, twirling a strand of his red dyed hair with your index finger. It had already faded out and became somewhat pink, but it still looked good. “Or, hear me out. Pink. Make it pink”
“Nah, I don't think that's a good idea” He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on you. “It wouldn't suit me”
“It would, what do you mean?” You say, completely protesting against him “Pink is literally the best color. Like, ever”
He chuckles “Fuck no. I still think my blonde era was the best. But pink… it would look good on you” He added, scanning your face with his eyes.
You look down, dropping your hand from his hair to your own lap. Sometimes he complimented you, even if they were just small compliments like this, and it felt… well… you felt something. It felt good. But nothing more.
“Thanks…” You mumbled under your breath.
Nicholas laughed and dropped his hand on your knee. “Did I make you flustered? My bad”
Your phone suddenly vibrates in your pocket, and it isn't a message. It keeps buzzing, meaning someone is calling you. And that someone can't be other than… fuck.
You pull your phone out of your pocket with the speed of light, looking at the flashing name on the screen.
“ej🩷”
Obviously. Who else. Your eyes fly to the time on the top of the screen: 14:34
Fucking hell. You totally forgot about him coming home earlier for some fucked up reason. Nicholas looks at you with a worried expression, muttering a “What?” when you stand up and rush out of his house.
You mumble a sorry before stepping out and swiping up the green button, ready to get scolded. It happens as you expect.
“Where the hell are you?”
“I can be wherever I want to. It's none of your business, EJ”
“What? You are MY girlfriend and I told you to be home. I prepared you a fucking gift! Of course you had to ruin it”
You speed up with your steps, nearly stumbling as the sand keeps getting into your sandals. “I swear to fucking God, I’m not some home wife…”
“Well, I was about to make you one! And —”
The rest of the sentence is a blur, you barely even let the words you heard sink in. Make you one? If that means…
“Make me one?” You stop your steps.
“Yes, fucking hell. I was about to take you out on a fancy ass date so you don't have to fucking cook. And then, I wanted to ask you to be my wife”
You press the red button and put the phone down. This can't be fucking real. For a few moments, you stand still, feet rooted in the sand, the only sound you hear is the sea and the thoughts in your head going wild.
You don't want to go back there. You want to stay here, because it is so calm. Not like him. He is so aggressive. Why would he want to marry you?
It's probably not even his idea. He would never take you out on a date, those days are over. There are big chances that it was his passive aggressive mother who told him to do this whole thing. They've been wanting him to have a wife and children for so long.
You swallow the lump in your throat, anxiety spiking up in your whole body as you continue to walk to the bus stop. You are not ready to have children, you can't have children. Not now. It's just not ideal. Especially not with EJ. You believe his whole family is cursed, and you definitely don't want to pass down those cursed energies to your children.
The thought makes you want to throw up. The thing is that, if someone was about to ask you about your opinion on this about three weeks ago, maybe you would’ve said yes.
But you forgot to mention something in the important notes thing.
Nicholas was the perfect man. You knew this from the moment you looked at his pictures. He looked perfect. But when you met him, yes, you did feel anxious, but it wasn't just that. You haven't felt that feeling in a long time.
The last time you felt that was in highschool, when EJ asked you out. It was a long while ago. EJ wasn't able to make you feel like that since that.
But every time you are with Nicholas… There's something. It feels like he made you less attached to EJ and his toxic family.
You know you can't think about this right now. You have to go home, maybe make EJ less furious with something, his favorite meal? Just get his mind off of the marriage. You would even have sex with him right now. If it takes his mind off of it, you would do it.
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Your hands are straight up trembling when you put the key into the door, opening it as silently as you possibly could.
But as you step in and look forward, you find EJ looking at you while he stands in front of the kitchen island, leaning back on it with his arms crossed.
“Where the fuck were you, y/n?” He asks, voice low.
“Nowhere” You simply reply, suddenly feeling your ego spike up.
He pushes himself away from the counter and makes his way to you. “Fucking answer me”
“I answered”
EJ runs a frustrated hand through his hair, putting his hands on his hips. “I just… I really wanted this day to go well and you ruined it for me, babe.”
“Really? Are you fucking kidding me right now, EJ? Do you know how many days you ruined for me? I've been standing in this kitchen for days to make you fucking lunch, and you don't even appreciate it. You never do.” It takes you so much courage, but you say your thoughts out. You were always the one who got silenced in this relationship, and you are feeling brave today anyways. “Suddenly, you want me to be your wife?”
He audibly gulps, his Adams apple moving down and up. “Yes. We have been together since high school, and...”
“It doesn't fucking matter. You ruin me, EJ. You…I…” You broke down, feeling the tears coming to your eyes. Fuck, no, you can't let yourself cry. Not in front of him.
“I ruined you?” He raises his voice, now it sounds threatening “I saved your teenage years. Come on, Fuma told me you were always barking about how much you wanted a boyfriend. I thought i would ask you out, so you would fucking stop complaining to my friend all the fucking time”
Your heart drops. He never actually wanted you. It was all an act. It all sets into place now. He never actually wanted to ask you out, he did it so his friend (who was also your friend at the time) won't hear about your problems.
You simply turn around, forcing yourself not to fall to the ground and cry. You simply turn around, so you don't shout at him and send him back to his mother's pussy. You simply turn around, and walk out. You run down on the stairs of the flat before he could chase you, but no, he would never do that. It's clear now. He wouldn't go after you.
And he doesn't.
You know where you want to go right away. And you don't even question where your feet take you, right to the bus stop. You step on the floor of the bus numbered as 303. You still don't question. You feel like you finally know what you want.
However, you can't stop the tears falling from your eyes as you sit down next to the window. You don't even try to stop them, you know it would be impossible.
The bus is quiet, no one looks at you, everybody just stands or sits there boring their face onto their phone’s screen. You look outside, admiring the way the sun’s rays fall onto the water.
It takes twenty minutes to get there. After that, comes the walk you hate so much. Half an hour. Finally, you approach the familiar bamboo house, kind of feeling exhausted from the walk. You and Nicholas for sure grew closer, but you can't help but feel a twist in your stomach. He is your surf instructor. He wasn't your friend, even if it seemed like he was. Or was he? You never talked about private things. Life things.
Despite the hesitant feeling in your feet, and the little voice in your head that told you to turn around and walk back, say yes to EJ and have children with him, you took a step.
Then you decided to not think anymore. Your life is fucked up anyways. In the next minute you found yourself knocking on the bamboo door. Nicholas opened it right away.
“y/n?” he asks, eyebrows going up in surprise. Usually, when you come to his house for a non appointment, you always text him first, but that doesn't happen now.
“Sorry for bothering you” You try to sound normal, but you can't help the small shake that gets into your voice when you talk. “I just-” you lower your head, avoiding eye contact.
Nicholas steps closer, lifting up your chin to make you look at him “Hey, you are not bothering me” his voice softens.
You look up at him, feeling your eyes getting wetter by each second. His eyes are filled with genuine concern and softness, something that you’ve never seen on him before. He was always soft, but he kept it so professional that you could feel: there was a line that you couldn't cross with him.
Now, that line seemed to blur, even if just a little. “Can I come in?” You insist shyly, and he immediately nods and stands out of the doorway so you could get in.
You go to his dark brown couch and lay down, practically throwing yourself onto the mattress and burring your head onto one of the soft pillows.
He stands by the kitchen, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his strong arms in front of his chest, making his forearm muscles flex.
Nicholas scans you with his eyes, looking at you laying on his couch and watching as you turn around from your stomach to your back, so you can see him since the kitchen and the cushion was placed across both sides of his house in front of each other.
As you look at him, you notice that he has changed since you went back to EJ. When you were last here, he was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, but now he's wearing grey sweatpants instead of jeans.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, keeping his voice firm but soft at the same time.
You shrug and bite down your lower lip. Should you? Is it a good idea to talk about this to your teacher? You think it through quickly, but then you realize Nicholas is basically your only friend here in Hawaii. You really don't have anyone else now.
You bob your head.
“So what's up?” He asks casually, turning around so he can get a glass of water for you. “Who called you earlier and why are you all messy now?”
You run your hands through your hair at that, fixing it. “I don't even know how to tell you”
He hands you the glass of water and sits down next to you on the couch, turning his body sideways so he faces you while his arm rests on the back of the sofa. “Just tell me” He shrugs.
“Okay, so…” you began, looking down to gather your thoughts “I already told you why I moved here. Halfly.”
What you told him was less than half of your story. Yes, your father did die and it was a hard pill to swallow. You don't know why, but it was easier to tell him that rather than telling him about your boyfriend. The truth is that your dad died when you were thirteen. That was not recently.
“But there's another thing. My boyfriend, so, my boyfriend and I have problems lately.” That was another white lie. Not just lately, you have been having problems since forever. Now that you know he never actually liked you was even harder.
He nods, like he understands. It makes your courage come back. “We went to a couple therapist, and he told us to move. He told us that if we move, the new environment would make our problems look smaller or something like that… Bullshit.”
A subtle smirk was playing on his face, but he didn't say anything. “We moved and long story short, he just told me he wants to marry me.”
A silent moment.
“Oh” Nicholas’s body stills “And that's a problem because…?”
“Because we have been doing nothing, just arguing all the time, Nicholas! He doesn't even come home. But his mother is a passive aggressive bitch, and she probably wants him to have children so she can be a grandma”
“Damn, that's fucked up” He lets out a sigh, putting his hand on your knee to caress it as reassurance.
Your gaze slips to his hand, and you are hesitant but decide to ask the question that sat on your tongue ever since you stepped in. “Can I sleep here?”
Nicholas doesn't even flinch, he nods right away. “Yes” after a silent beat, he adds “But…”
You sigh, already knowing what's going to come. He will deny you for some stupid reason, or will say that you have to go home at seven am.
Just like he could read your mind, or expression, he says “I’m sorry y/n. But I’m going to Los Angeles with my friends tomorrow. There's a surfing camp and a bunch of kids are waiting for us and-”
“I can go too” You say suddenly, making his eyes widen “I mean, If you want me to, I wasn't being disrespe-”
“Actually, yeah” He nods in agreement “Why not? You can come too”
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You thought the night by Nicholas is going to be somewhat awkward for multiple reasons. First and foremost, you still have a boyfriend! You keep reminding yourself that when you bore into his eyes too much, but fuck, his fault for being so damn good at having eyes.
Then, you remember that he is still your teacher. Actually, this even slipped out of your mouth yesterday. You aren't sure what was the topic, but you added ‘who am I to expect an advice from you, you are just my teacher’
Now, that was something you weren't meant to say. But he just laughed it off and told you he actually is your friend now, not just a teacher. That made your heart drop to your stomach.
Nicholas is way too sweet with you, and you are not used to this. EJ was never this soft. You couldn't help but start comparing the two to each other last night, as you watched Nicholas drift to his dreams.
The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes. You haven't eaten pancakes since you moved out from your mother, even though it was your favorite breakfast.
You also came to the realization pretty quick that you didn't pack clothes. Nicholas offered to give you his, and you gladly accepted his offer.
Now you were standing in the middle of Honolulu airport with packed bags, trying to figure out which one is your flight and where are Nicholas's friends.
You looked at the board on the top of the wall with a slightly tilted head. “Why are there so many take-off runways? I swear to god there are at least five different letters and ten numbers”
“Right? So unnecessary” Nicholas agreed.
You set your gaze at your ticket again, checking what was the number and letter you were looking for. P7. The randomly chosen letters didn't help the situation, because tell me who the hell would choose P, B and Y as runway letters?
You were very close to crashing out to Nicholas about this when you heard a yell calling his name from afar. Nicholas and you both jolted your head towards the sound, and you spotted two people with luggages approaching you.
When they reached you, they both hugged Nicholas. You weren't exactly sure if these were the friends he talked about earlier, but they for sure looked like close friends.
Then, the one in the front turned towards you. He was shorter than Nicholas, around the same height as you, maybe a few centimeters taller. His hair was cherry red, just like Nicholas's. He looked like he was some kind of porcelain doll, suddenly you couldn't help but ask yourself how can someone be this beautiful.
He gave you a subtle smile and reached out his arms for a hug. “Hi, I’m Harua” he introduced himself when you both let go, and now you weren't scared to give him a smile too.
“Hello, I’m y/n”
“Nice to meet you, y/n” the guy behind Harua speaks, giving his hand out for you to shake it.
He looks way stronger than the other guy, and he is as tall as Nicholas. He wears a sleeveless top and his biceps are showing off pretty much. He has sunglasses on, but you could still see how his facial features were stronger than Harua's or Nicholas's, his jawline was way sharper. His hair was dyed cotton candy pink, which balanced his strong features.
He shook your hand firmly “I’m Maki”
The next twenty minutes were spent looking for the flight, getting on the flight and casual inspections. Harua and Maki were seated next to each other, while you and Nicholas were sitting on the other side of the row. He let you sit next to the window, too.
You were more than nervous before the takeoff. You sat on a plane before, but it was always such a stressful and overwhelming experience for you. You chew on your lips until it bled, tasting your bitter blood on your tongue. At least it distracted you a little bit.
“Are you okay?” Nicholas leaned closer and whispered as he squirmed in his seat, finding the right position to sit in.
“Yeah, just a little nervous” You mumble back, not looking at him.
A few moments later you feel a warm hand touching yours, fingers intertwining with yours. Your eyes widen and you look down at your hand, watching as Nicholas's much bigger palm covers it. The plane began to move, and you froze in your seat. Nicholas caresses the side of your hand slightly, his thumb brushing over the skin.
After the plane was in the air, your body calmed down, but Nicholas didn't let go of your hand for the whole five hours while you got to Los Angeles.
It was way hotter there than it was in Honolulu. You just walked down on the stairs of the plane, and you were already sweating everywhere. Suddenly, you felt jealous of Nicholas and his friends, because they decided they come in sleeveless tops unlike you.
A short sleeve tight T-shirt will be embarrassing in a few minutes, and right now you don't even have deodorant with you. Great.
“Jeez” Maki scoffs, putting back his sunglasses on his face as you got down on the ground from the plane and got your bags. “So fucking hot”
“It's the ground radiating the hotness” Nicholas replies “It won't be this hot on the beach” he puts on sunglasses too.
He threw his leather jacket over his shoulder, and the four of you began to walk out of the airport. The camp is not so far away from the airport, and you decide that it would be the cheapest solution if you would walk there. Maki and Nicholas walk in the front to show the way, chatting about some surfing stuff while you and Harua walk behind them.
The first few minutes pass in silence, both of you being too scared to speak. Then, he suddenly turns his head to you.
“Are you, like, his girlfriend?” Harua asks shyly, keeping his voice low so Nicholas and Maki don't hear him, even though they're deep into their own conversation.
You jolt your head towards him, breath hitching in your throat all of sudden. “What?” you chuckle awkwardly “No, why would I be? I'm just one of his students”
“Oh” Harua says, genuinely dumbfounded “He usually doesn't bring his students to trips like this” he shrugs his shoulders.
“Does he bring his girlfriends?”
“Not really” He says while opening up his handbag and pulling a chocolate bar out of it “We never meet his girlfriends. I wouldn't even call them his girlfriends, they're usually one night stands or situationships”
This new information hit you like a sucker punch, right in the stomach. You never expected Nicholas to be a guy like that, but honestly it made your mind light up. It felt like… you got curious. You couldn't help but ask more.
“Seriously? He never introduced them to you guys? Then how do you know they existed? I mean the one night stands”
Harua let out a sarcastic chuckle, followed with a huff “Come on, we are men at the end of the day” he looked at you, but seeing the confused expression on your face, he explained “He brags about them quite a lot. Nicholas is like that. You don't really know him, I assume. How long have you been his student?”
You gulp, trying to remember the date you moved to Hawaii.
“For around… three weeks, I guess. But we have lessons every day”
“I see” He takes a bite from the chocolate bar then wipes his mouth with the back of his palm “Every day? That's kinda crazy” he side-eyes you “But congratulations, you are officially his longest…” he doesn't finish the sentence, just keeps walking and eating his chocolate bar “Nevermind” he brushes off.
The topic fades into nothingness, but it stays in your mind. You might be a little delusional for overthinking this, but for now you don't even know where to put the things Harua just said.
Soon, the four of you approach the camp by the beach and you put your thoughts away for a little while.
Maki looks back at you and Harua excitedly “Wow, it's a big one!”
“So many children too,” Nicholas adds, patting Maki’s chest.
They were the type of people who genuinely enjoyed their job, and that gave you a warm feeling. You don't see this often in today's environment.
As you got closer to the gate, you came across a security guard. Nicholas did his part of the work and talked with the guard, while you, Maki and Harua started looking inside.
“Come on guys” Nicholas gestured for you and the guard opened the gate, letting you in.
The view of the camp amazed you, you didn't even know where to look. There were small wooden houses lined up along the shore, and gravel paths were built between the houses. It was so modern, especially for a camp.
Suddenly, a woman came up to you, the biggest smile on her face. “Nicholas! Maki! Harua! Nice to meet you guys again. It was a pleasure last time too” She bowed slightly. Then, her eyes set on you. “Oh! I didn't know you have a plus one”
“Nicholas has a plus one” Maki corrected, but Nicholas hit his forearm playfully.
Her smile faltered for a moment, but it lightened up again when she realized. “It’s no problem! You guys are going to be in two bed houses anyways. At least Nicholas will have company” She winks at Maki, who chuckles slightly.
You feel your ears burn with embarrassment, and you are glad your hair covers it at this moment. You wouldn't want any of them staring or picking at you for this.
The lady then turns on her heels and begins to walk quickly, the guys and you following her closely as she talks about the story of the camp and other probably not so interesting stuff like that. However, Nicholas seems to walk a little slower, matching your pace in the back.
“I'm sorry” He apologizes, though you don't know why “I forgot to tell her. I shouldn't have pushed you in an embarrassing situation”
“It’s okay, really” You nod and give him a tight smile. If he was such a player as Harua described him, then why was he so soft with you? He apologized for the smallest things.
You step into one of the wooden houses, where the woman says you should go in. It probably looks like the other ones. It’s almost a perfect square, with a small kitchen next to the door, two beds by the two walls on opposite sites and a small bedside table under the window in the middle, on the opposite wall from the door.
You throw your luggage on the bed and sit down next to it. Damn, it’s hard as fuck. Sleeping will be a problem, you are already sure about that. You glance out of the room through the window. Nicholas definitely wasn't right about it being less hot on the beach than in the airport. The sun beamed down by the sea, not a single cloud was in the sky. You assume it was good for the teachers though, a weather like this is better for teaching swimming and surfing than raining.
At a soft click of the door you turn your head, seeing Nicholas step in after he talked with the woman. He gives you a soft smile, walking closer awkwardly.
“So, what's the plan?” You ask, breaking the silence.
Nicholas sits down on his bed across from yours, in the same line as you so you two face each other.
“Today we get to know the kids, just basic introduction and maybe a little bit of swimming” He begins, fidgeting with the sheet next to him “Tomorrow, we begin the hard work and practice surfing. But they'll have a break too. So nothing serious” He shrugs.
You nod, taking his words in. Two days at the camp is not a big thing after all, even though you would like to spend more time here. With Nicholas.
You find yourself looking him up and down, eyes tracing the way he has his head leaned back towards the wall, and the way his Adams apple moves up and down as he gulps tightly. When you look back into his eyes, he’s looking at you.
You squirm in your place, feeling the tension in the room rise up as none of you say any words.
After a few silent moments, Nicholas breaks the silence, head still bumped back onto the wall “Can I ask you something?”
You nod, letting out a hum.
He licks his lips, unsure if he should ask it or not, but he decides it's the best to communicate. “Why didn't you tell me about your boyfriend earlier?”
The question was expected, but you don't have an exact answer. “I don't really know” You say, pulling your gaze off of him and dropping it to the ground “I guess I just didn't want you to know about him”
Nicholas hums, getting up from the bed. “Why?”
“Why are you asking questions like these?” You chuckle, kind of more out of embarrassment than from humor.
He looks back, his eyes dark but he doesn't say anything for a moment. “I'm just curious about why would he argue with someone like you”
He slips into his Adidas shoes then kneels down to tie the laces.
“Someone like me?” you echo his words, confused.
“Yes” his voice is firm “Someone like you. I mean, you have everything in you a guy could dream of” He stands up and looks back once, but before you could say anything he opens the door and slips out of the house just like he was never there.
A soft click, and the door closes.
Your eyes are fixed on the floor, trying to take his words in. You feel the heat rising up into your cheeks, making them as red as a tomato.
You drink a glass of water before you go after him to the beach, where the kids are already split up in three different groups. One with Harua, one with Maki and one with Nicholas. One group consisted of about ten kids, and you only realized you didn't know what to do when you fully approached them.
The woman you spoke to earlier ran to you when she saw you standing there all alone and told you to sit down on one of the wooden chairs by the bar not so far away from the place Nicholas and his friends were teaching.
You followed her to the bar, and did as you were told so, watching the boys as they were explaining.
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The day passed by pretty fast, but it wasn't a huge surprise since you arrived at the camp quite late in the morning and they could only do the surfing lesson until the sun went down. After that, the wind’s strength rose up and the waves were too big for beginner surfers — kids — to ride.
However, the three guys were watching those waves with awe, feeling disappointed that they couldn't get in the water and ride them.
“Fucking hell, they're so big now” Maki commented, looking out the window like he was a footballer looking at the world cup.
Harua sipped from his beer and made a satisfied sound. “You better stop looking at them, I stopped too because it straight up hurts”
Maki nods “You are right” he put one of his hands on his chest dramatically, like he was grasping onto his pearls “It hurts” he sniffs jokingly, then turns around from the window and sits down on the floor in front of Nicholas's bed, across from you and Harua who were sitting next to each other in front of your bed.
“When is he coming…” Harua muttered, looking at the door and expecting Nicholas to burst into the room with fresh cans of beer and a card game at any given moment.
“I don't know but now I'm getting bored that I can't watch the waves” Maki picks up Harua's glass and takes a sip from the only glass of remaining beer.
“Hey!” Harua snitches from him right away, getting on all fours so he can reach the glass.
Maki just laughs, then makes eye contact with you “y/n, suggest a topic or something. I bet you have a lot on your mind”
You raise your brows “A lot in my mind? What do you mean exactly?”
Maki gives a knowing look to Harua, then chuckles playfully, a boyish smile plastered on his lips “Come on, you know what I mean”
He tsks when you don't answer just give him a confused look.
“You and Nicholas” He explains, and your eyes drop to the ground. “See! that's what I'm talking about” He points it out. “You become all awkward when it comes to him”
You were never an extroverted person, and you felt like you acted awkward with everyone all the time, that's why you didn't have many people to understand you, but this time Maki could read you perfectly. Was he some psychiatrist in his last life?
“Are you guys dating?” He asks again, desperate for answers.
“No, we are not” You shake your head, looking up at him.
“...But you wish” Maki smiles mischievously, and you kick him playfully.
You open your mouth to say something, but the door opens and Nicholas steps in with a bag in one hand and a small pack of cards in his other one.
“That lady was selfish as fuck” Nicholas says, out of breath “She didn't want to give me all the beers”
“Nicholas!” Maki says, nearly yells, like he's celebrating his friend “We were just talking about you”
Nicholas's eyes shift to you for a moment, then back onto Maki’s “Really?”
“Yeah” Maki nodded, sliding a little bit sideways so Nicholas could sit down next to him on the floor.
Nicholas looks at you again, but his expression is unreadable to you. He's still just as mysterious to you as he was before. His friends have been talking about him, but you still can't see him as the person they portrayed him as.
He brought the card game UNO, which was one of your childhood games. You were glad that you didn't have to go through the painful journey of explaining the rules to you or anyone else, cause that would've taken forever, given that you never understood the rules at first.
Harua opens up a can of beer for everyone while Nicholas shuffles the cards in his hands.
“Did you guys say beautiful things about me while I was away?” He asks while giving the cards to everyone.
“Yes, of course.” Maki takes a sip, this time from his own beer “I could only say good things about you, Nicho”
Nicholas chuckles sarcastically “Right”
Maki lets out a hum “By the way” He kisses his teeth, setting his can down “I was just about to get on with talking about your sex life when you stepped in, man.”
The suddenly blurted out words makes your jaw almost drop, you start coughing on the beer. Harua immediately reaches to your back, patting it.
“Why would you do that?” Nicholas asks him when you were done coughing and they made sure you were okay and not dying.
Maki tilts his head “You would do it too if it was me”
It felt like listening to a private conversation, you could tell that Maki and Nicholas were way closer than they were with Harua, because he hasn't said any words in the past half an hour in this conversation. Just like you.
“No, I absolutely wouldn't. Because I’m a good friend” Nicholas smirks at the boy beside him.
“Okay, well” Maki shrugs, pulling the glass to his lips “We all know you want to get y/n laid, I just wanted to prepare her. With words, obviously”
You are glad there wasn’t any beer in your mouth, because right now you would surely be coughing and choking from it. Nicholas stops looking at his cards and glances at you, getting embarrassed at Maki’s words.
For a moment, a very small moment, his whole body stills and his shoulders tense. But after, he drops them like nothing happened and ends up chuckling. “Y/n knows nothing about my sex life” he says casually.
Maki’s eyes drift to you, a mischievous glint in them “She would like to find out things about it though”
“That's true” Harua joins the conversation in the worst way possible, taking a sip from his own beer. “She was asking stuff from me before”
You bury your face in your palms, absolutely speechless by their sudden bluntness. You are not sure if they're like this all the time or is it just the beer.
“Uno” Nicholas says firmly, throwing a red two at the top of the deck.
“The way you talk about me is really concerning” you comment, looking at your cards. Fuck, you only have blue. You take up one.
“It's not our fault you are being obvious” Harua answers, putting down one of his five cards in his hands. “But this goes to Nicholas too. Seriously, you thought we would let the fact slide that you never introduced any girl to us?”
Nicholas smiles and bites down his lip, dropping his last card after Maki takes up one from the deck “I won” he ignores what Harua said, and stretches his arms above his head.
Harua rolls his eyes and stands up, beer can in his hands. “It's getting late. There will be a bunch of screaming children around me tomorrow, so I should use my time out and sleep.” he states “Maki, you are coming too” He demands, and Maki stands up and follows him out right away.
They leave the house, and suddenly it becomes all silent when the lock clicks. You and Nicholas stay on the floor across from each other, only about one metre between you.
He looks at you with a straight face, his eyes dark again, just like they were when he said that thing about you being every guy's dream.
“How many girlfriends have you had before?” You ask him, kind of all of a sudden.
The question doesn't make him flinch, he doesn't take his eyes off of you either “I don't know. I only remember one”
“You don't know?”
“I had girls but they weren't really my girlfriends”
You knew exactly what he meant by this, the things Harua told you at the airport flashes into your mind.
“What's your boyfriend's name?” He asks back.
You swallow hard. “EJ”
The thought of him makes you overly uncomfortable, especially now, in this… moment with Nicholas. Even the way he looks at you, he looks so possessive you could bear the sight of this every day. You squirm in your place, your jeans getting uncomfortable.
Nicholas's eyes trace down your neck to your chest, then back onto your face. He gulps, then says “EJ… What a disgusting name”
You couldn't help but chuckle at that, and he cracks a smile too. “Do you want to… tell me more about him?” He asks, suddenly getting shy.
You bob your head anyways. You weren't that vulnerable, but with Nicholas it was so easy. Too easy. You could tell him everything, and this went vice versa.
“What do you want to know?” You ask, fidgeting with the edge of your shirt.
He looks up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. Then, when he gets the idea, he smirks at you “Do you guys do it?”
You knit your eyebrows. “What?”
He shifts, leaning a bit closer to you so he can whisper. “You know… You said he wants children and stuff”
You shrug, trying to keep your demeanor nonchalant “I— well—” you swallow.
He sees you fidgeting with your shirt out of anxiety, and he grabs your wrist to make you stop. Both yours and his eyes fall to the place where the skin gets in contact, and you look up into each other's eyes at the same time too. He was still leaning close to you, and it seems like he even shifted closer cause now your knees were also touching as you sat on the floor with crossed legs.
You gulp hard as he caresses your palm with his fingers “Stop that” he commands, and you nod.
After a few moments, you finally swallow the lump in your throat and find your voice again. “We do a couple of stuff…but…” you shrug, but he isn't satisfied with the answer.
He looks at you expectedly, something soft lingering in his gaze. “But?” he whispers. He puts his palm on your knee and presses down, tilting his head.
You hold eye contact, swallowing again. “He never liked me enough to do that”
His eyes drop down to your knees, shifting closer. Then, he gets on fours so he can get even closer to you slowly, pressing a gentle kiss on your jaw. “Does he do that?” he whispers close to your ear, and you feel a shiver going down on your spine at the vibration of his voice.
You shake your head “Usually not”
Nicholas gets closer, this time licking your earlobe slightly. He was shy with it, the lick was so gentle you could almost not feel it. “Does he do this?” he asks after, and you shake your head again.
He moves down slowly, and you couldn't help but let him do whatever he wants to. You were so shocked by this that you didn't even take in what was even happening, not fully yet.
He hovers over your neck for a while, still being on all fours. He clearly hesitates, but then he decides to do it and he presses his wet lips to your thyroid bulge, sucking on it ever so slightly. You tilt your head back and it hits the edge of the bed, letting your mouth hang open as he works his mouth on your neck, wandering sideways and up and down too.
He backs up after a few wet kisses, just so he can look up into your eyes and say breathlessly “Does he do this, y/n?”
You shake your head and let your hands get into his strawberry hair, pushing him back and urging him to continue what he did before, chasing the feeling of his lips on your neck.
And he does just as you wish him to, putting one of his hands on the back of your neck so he can hold you while he kisses and licks all over your neck. He sucks on a spot, and you just hope it won't give you a mark.
Then he moves even lower, his lips finding the exposed skin above your t-shirt, aka your collar bone. He licks on it too, you feel like you are entering heaven. When he stops, he lets go of your neck and sits up. “Does he do that?” He asks, this time his voice becomes a little hoarse as he speaks.
You shake your head slowly. You can't stop staring into his eyes. He looks like a cat, but only just a tiny bit. You swallow, finding it hard to speak. Also, you are sure your whole face is red at this point.
“Nicho” you whisper, or whine when you feel his hands on your hips, ready to get you out of your t-shirt.
He stops immediately and looks at you.
You shake your head steadily, a kind of disappointment in your eyes when you remember Harua's words from the airport earlier, and also Nicholas's, which confirmed the theories. “I don't want to be one of your girls” you say, voice cracking by the time you finish the sentence. “I'm not like that”
He drops his gaze, jaw clenching in frustration. You could see the way thoughts clouded his mind all of a sudden. “Y/n… you wouldn't be just one of my girls” he says, his voice being soft again.
You feel your stomach drop at that, but looking into his eyes you could see that he was telling you the truth. He was being honest and vulnerable, and you found yourself bobbing your head and insisting him to continue.
Nicholas takes off your shirt in no time, and his eyes drop to your chest immediately. His eyes were filled with hunger, and he shifts and gets on his knees so he can undo your bra too. While he reaches behind your back, you run your eyes through his shoulders and neck, and you sniff him slightly. Nicholas always smells so good, you already noticed that on the first week when you went to his house for surfing lessons. He always wears the same cologne, seems like he knows what he likes and sticks with it.
When he drops your bra to the floor, he backs up again, looking at your freed titties with admiration in his eyes. Then without a warning he lowers his head and sucks on your right nipple. You arch your back at the sudden friction, letting out a breathy moan. His lips wrap around your hard nipple, sucking your titty in as much as he can while he cups the other one softly with his other hand. He massages it, but he's subtle with it. His mouth may be a little aggressive and hungry, but he's a whole other person with his hands. Nicholas for sure knows how to please a woman. “Fuck, y/n, you have the most perfect tits I ever seen” he mumbles, and you feel the vibration in his voice in your whole body.
You close your eyes, sinking in the amazing feeling. Your tit is now fully covered in his hot saliva. When he looks up, his mouth is plump and wet, and it makes your thighs clench together in desperation.
His eyes are hazy when he asks, “Does…does he do this?”
“No” you moan out when his other hand cups your other breast too, massaging both at the same time.
You straighten your legs, so now he's kneeling between them.
“Open your eyes” he commands with a firm voice when he sees your head being thrown back onto the edge of the bed, getting lost in the feeling of his big palms on your tits. You obey him again, opening your eyes just to face him possessively looking down at you.
He lets go of your breasts, and you want to cry out at the loss of his hands. At the same time, you are glad you have time to catch your breath. Not too much though, because he shifts back so he can lower his head to kiss on your stomach, just right under your chest.
You let out a moan, hands finding his hair again. He licks the spot he kissed, then starts to make a path of saliva with his tongue, going down back to the edge of your sweatpants.
“Babe” he whispers, and you are very near to losing your mind. You look down at him, finding him looking up at you while his mouth hovers above your pants. “Can you lay on the bed, pretty please?”
He doesn't have to say it twice. You stand up while he stays kneeling on the same spot. Nicholas watches you lay on the bed, head now thrown back against the wall. You spread your legs slightly, teasing him.
He looks even more mesmerizing in the dim light, now that the sun almost fully went down and the only light was a reading light of a standing lamp next to his bed. Clouds were filling the sky, dark clouds. You could hear a few droplets of rain knock on the roof, and there wasn't much light coming in from outside, only the sound of rain and wind.
He smirks at you and puts his elbows next to your body to cage your lower half while he licks on your stomach again, earning a satisfied whimper from you. Nicholas hooks his fingers onto your pants and pulls it down, hinting small kisses at the edge of your lacy panties now.
You feel your wetness between your thighs, and you are sure he also noticed it. He goes lower, and you watch as he presses his lips to the wet patch forming on your panties. You shift your body lower, pushing yourself to his face more and more. His tongue works fast, and you already see stars even though he only started just now, though a fabric.
That part kind of feels ridiculous.
He moves back, breathing heavily as his eyes never leave your core. He pulls down your panties with one move, revealing your aching core. “Please” you mutter, your voice barely even audible but he still hears it and smirks.
He eyes your wet pussy, your juices already dripping down on your folds. “All wet for me, hm?” Nicholas hums, satisfied with the view.
He hovers closer, his nose bumping onto your clit teasingly. “Have you ever been this wet for him, jagiya?”
“Never” You breathe out, trying to restrain yourself from moaning, but your chest rising then falling heavily betrays you.
Nicholas finally gives your aching core a lick, looking up to see your reaction. Your head flies back, eyes closing in pleasure. A guttural moan leaves your mouth as his hot tongue darts out again, slowly licking you from your hole to your clit. When you look down, you are faced with those pretty eyes that you have been admiring ever since you first saw them.
You never thought you would see them in a kind of situation like this ever, but the fantasy was always hiding in the back of your mind. Now that it finally happened, you could admit that they were an even better sight than you imagined.
“Fuck, Nicholas” you mumble as he gives you another lick, now getting deeper. His nose bumps onto your clit with every lick, but his eyes never leave yours. “Your eyes… they're so pretty”
He sucks on your clit, and your thighs are beginning to tremble. You try to close them, caging his head between your legs, but he stops them and sets them down on the bed with a firm movement, nails digging into your skin.
Nicholas sucks on your folds, and you can't do anything else other than letting the sounds escape you, and letting your hands run through his strawberry hair. You grind on his face when he shoves his tongue inside of you. He stops the movements with his head as you start grinding, riding his tongue in a steady rhythm.
You already could feel your orgasm getting closer, Nicholas being able to take you to your climax with only his tongue kinda surprising you. But before that could happen, he pulls out of you with his tongue and smiles at you with that teethy smirk he always does. You whimper at the loss, prompting yourself on your forearms so you could see him better.
“You thought I’m going to make you come with my tongue, and that's all?” He asks, one eyebrow going up.
You gulp, feeling your stomach knotting.
“If that's the case, you were wrong” he laughs, looking up and down your naked body. “I'm taking my time. If the thing you said is true, you were never really pleased” he grabs your hips, pulling you down from the bed onto his lap. “You deserve to know how good it feels like” you put your hands on his shoulders, and he looks up at you.
All this time, this was the first moment you truly felt conscious about how exposed you were, while he had all of his clothes on still. “What do you mean?” you ask, voice low.
“You know what I mean” he teases, vaguely rolling his hips — still in his sweatpants — upwards, so you could feel his hard bulge with your bare pussy.
He looks down at your chest, looking at your breasts like they're the best things he has ever seen in his life. “Jagiya, I always wanted to do this. Since the moment I saw you” he admits, pinching your nipple with two of his fingers, making you hiss.
He bites down his lips, grinding up again. “Fuck” he cusses before he gestures you to get off of him. You do as quickly as possible, and he takes off his shirt. Your eyes fall on his toned chest, it's not like you haven't seen it before during lessons, but seeing it like this was way different. You would admire it, but then he takes off his sweatpants with his boxers too.
You gulp again, your throat getting dry at the sight all of a sudden. He isn't that big, I would rather say average.
But still, this is like your… second time with a man, and you haven't seen cock in a long time, which was kinda embarrassing. Nicholas didn't look bothered in any way, though.
He looks at you and gives his cock a few strokes before asking “Missionary or cowgirl?”
Your eyebrows shoot up at the sudden question. “What?”
“Whatever, just come here” he urges, pulling you back onto his lap by your hips.
When he sees the hesitation on your face, he lets go of you “Is everything okay? We don't have to do it if you are not ready”
You melt internally at his sweetness, the constant checks up making you shy. But you would never miss out on this opportunity. Ever. “I'm okay I just… I haven't done it in a long time” you let out an awkward giggle at the confession, but he still doesn't back up.
“It's okay” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear “I will be gentle”
You nod, feeling way better now. You bite down your lower lip when you sink down on his cock, grabbing onto his shoulders with both of your hands. He lays against his bed on the floor, this time he is the one who throws his head back.
He clearly tries with all of his strength to not move and fuck into you, and you pretty much appreciate that. You try to get adjusted to his length when you fully sink down, taking deep breaths.
“Are you… are you alright?” he asks, voice shaky.
You bob your head heavily, letting out a whine “Shit, yes, yes I am”
When he sees you calming down a little bit, he begins to move, grabbing onto your hips while he vaguely grinds up, rolling his hips into you.
You let out a small moan, burying your head onto the crook of his neck, your bodies melting onto each other.
Your chest is pressed against his, nipples still rock hard. He sets a steady rhythm. Sometimes he gets out of his tempo and fucks just a little too hard, but then reminds himself that he has to be soft with you. And he keeps his promise, he is gentle.
“Fuck, you are so tight” he grumbles out, collapsing onto you as his rhythm gets fucked up again. He fucks deep into you, feeling every inch of your wet pussy around him. He hits your spot with every move too, giving you a feeling you never felt before.
You can't even say anything, your mouth just hangs open while messy moans leave it. You throw your head back, and when you clench around him, he whimpers.
He lets out small cries amongst his high pitched moans, and you grab him by his hair to tilt his head back and look into his eyes. “Are you crying?” you ask.
He doesn't answer, just frowns with his lips as he lets out a muffled moan again, looking away from you. But you tilt his head back again, grabbing him by his neck and keeping him like that so he can look at you. He speeds up a little bit, but still keeping it gentle while he is feeling you up, you being on his lap, bouncing on him so perfectly. “Does EJ do this? Hm?” he breathes, and you answer with a loud moan as you shake your head.
You look into each other's eyes as you hold him down by his thigh to gesture to him to stop. He stops immediately, breathing heavily. You run your hands on his chest, then on his worked out abs. You lift yourself then drop down on his cock again, making him cuss and grunt.
“Do that again, jagiya, please” he begs, and you redo your movements from before. You speed up after a few messy ups and downs, earning him to moan out your name multiple times as you ride him.
When he gets used to the rhythm of you using his cock, he kisses your collarbone again, then moves to your neck to suck on it and leave marks all over it. You don't deny it.
“Fuck, I’m close” he mumbles and whimpers again, looking up at you, then down on your chest, seeing the way your tits bounce every time you lift yourself then sink down again. He was enjoying being used like this, he bites down his bottom lip hungrily. He grabs you by your hips and sets you down on the floor suddenly, trapping you by putting both of his hands next to your head while he's still inside of you.
He rolls his hips, his balls tapping against your wetness every time he bottoms out. “I would never hurt you, y/n” he admits vulnerably, his breath caressing your neck. Your body moves up and down on the floor, feeling the roughness of the rug on your back. It's going to burn later.
“If you stay with me” he continues “I will never treat you like that— fuck—” he cusses, moving his hands to your hips and digging his nails into your skin as he lifts you up a little bit so he can get deeper in, a better position for both of you.
“Can I…can I come inside you, pretty baby?” he asks you suddenly.
You nod your head, looking up at him with a hazy gaze, observing the way one strand of his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He looks down at you when he reaches his climax, giving you a deep and slow last thrust that makes you arch your back. He crumbles onto you, head burying onto the crook of your neck.
You feel his delicate cum filling you up, covering your walls. The thought makes you come too, your juices mixing together.
You stay like that laying down a little more, your bodies hugging. Then, after a few minutes of gathering yourself together, he pulls out of you and sits down back against his bed. You get up too, legs trembling when you drop down next to him on the floor, head against the edge of his bed while you both face the ceiling.
Nicholas looks at you with hazy eyes, like his mind is filled with multiple different thoughts at the same time and he can't decide which one to voice out first.
You reach out your hand, wiping a tear from his cheek.
He cringes and drops his gaze to the floor, feeling embarrassed by begging and crying to you.
“What are you thinking about?” you ask, tilting your head.
He looks up at you again, swallowing hard before he milks the words out of himself. “Do you still want to be with him?” he asks, and your eyebrows shot up “I mean, after this”
For a moment, your mind wanders. Did he do all of this to impress you? Because as much as you have a whole damn boyfriend, it might have worked. Then, you remember that your boyfriend is actually a dickhead and you would leave him anytime.
“I don't want to be with him at all,” you reply, shaking your head.
Nicholas straightens his back and looks at you with sparking eyes and a huge smile on his face. “Great. Tell him that you guys are done, and I’ll eat you out again”
You laugh at his suggestion, but deep down you know you would and will do it “Woah, all of a sudden?”
He knits his eyebrows together, like he was confused by your answer. “Yeah? Why not?”
“Over call?”
“No, over text. He was always a dickhead, wasn't he? He deserves it” Nicholas says and reaches up, caressing your face softly. “Right now” he adds.
You roll your eyes playfully before getting up to walk over to your bag and get your phone out. His eyes never leave your curvy body as you stand up, admiring you the whole time.
You quickly type the text onto the chats between you and EJ, but you don't send it yet. Nicholas sees you hesitating, and he pulls you by your ankle, gesturing to get back down on the floor.
He watches your screen when you sit down back to him closely.
“I don't know what to write,” you sigh.
He shrugs, just wanting this to be over as soon as possible “I feel like you should tell him everything. Tell him that he's an asshole and that you don't want to be with him anymore. Oh, and that you love me”
He smirks, and you shove him away by his shoulder playfully, but you still type in what he said. Most of the things.
After a while, you form your text and send it to EJ, but then Nicholas offers to put the phone down. So you two end up talking about whatever, mostly your upcoming plans for the next few days.
You two decide that it's for the best if you don't tell Maki and Harua right away, and maybe you should try living together for a while. EJ won't leave the house you two bought in Hawaii, and you don't have anywhere else to go. Plus, you have been spending almost all of your days by Nicholas's house, so it's not going to make a difference.
Now he went to take a shower, and you are sitting by the window sill (dressed up now), watching the rain falling down into the dark night.
You wonder about a lot of things, firstly about the upcoming days. You never thought Hawaii could bring you so many new opportunities for new starts, in so many ways. You are also not sure if your therapist will like to hear about this whole thing, but that's his problem.
There's one thing that you are sure about: you are happier than ever. You like Nicholas, and just because at first it looked like it was something forbidden, it doesn't mean it can't be fun at the end.
Am i the only one that hates when people add a additional member to a boy group in the fanfics like why would a all boy group have y/n suddenly? 😬
I lowkey love when they add a member to girlgroups and make a connection from that, like a added member from katseye or girlset dating a idol or someone like martin from cortisss😭😭
synopsis | in a fear-driven, adrenaline-soaked haze, you confess your feelings for your best friend. who cares that he's spiderman?
details | spiderman!nicholas x female!reader, bffs to lovers, mentions of farting, pining, burglary, hostage situation, violence, mentions of weapons, descriptions of injury, blood, so much dialogue, i fucking love dialogue, cursing, banter, angsty moments, self-deprecation, love confession, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol and substances, making out, 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, groping, oral (f receiving), riding (p-in-v), unprotected sex (not for you. this is fake.), creampie (not for you. this is fake.), lowercase intended, no use of y/n
wc | 9.5k
from the author | i love spiderman and i love friends to lovers and i love nicholas and i love you, dearest reader
you slid your hand into the bag next to you, although it felt more like a deplenishing, foil carcass as you picked at the chip crumbs left in the bottom. every evening was like this; you sat at your desk, illuminated only by the vibrant, swirling colors of maps and graphs and charts. it wasn’t much, but it was honest work. if you were lucky, all you had to do was flip through traffic cams, monitor live street footage, and polish off whatever snack had been calling your name all day.
“you got a train on sixty-first,” you announced, seemingly to no one in the comfort of your bedroom as you popped a pathetic third of a chip into your mouth, “don’t get hit.”
the little green dot on your computer screen redirected, hooking a sharp left and avoiding the elevated subway track altogether. you rubbed your hands together, partially because you were satisfied with your expert directional skills and partially to clear your fingers of leftover crumbs. in the headset hugging your ears, lively static roared, followed by nicholas’s breathless voice. “can you crunch those chips any louder?”
“i changed my mind, actually. take a shortcut through sixty-first.”
nicholas had been the city’s favorite web-slinger for a couple of months, but he had been your best friend for way longer. you were grateful that he trusted you with his secret; you’d met him for a late-night frozen yogurt run, and he had pulled his t-shirt collar to the side in line for the toppings, revealing the royal blue and red that littered every front page of every newspaper. of course, you thought he was pranking you. not because you didn’t think he was capable of being a superhero- there was actually no doubt in your mind about that- but because he was a terrible liar. throughout your entire friendship, nicholas couldn’t so much as swipe a sip of your soda without looking extremely guilty. his hands were always the first giveaway, since they were too steady when he was lying. he overcompensated by seeming too sure of himself, palms pressed flat to his sides, chest puffed. like a caricature of an honest man. but that night, in front of the chocolate sprinkles and the gummy worms, his fingers trembled as he pulled the shirt collar away from his neck. his voice waivered when he asked, “are you upset with me?”
you hadn’t been upset with him; you could not have possibly been. instead, you were upset with yourself. of course, you had noticed his absence when he skipped your friend group’s weekly game nights. you’d searched for him at every party, even when he had texted you some loose excuse about dog sitting or working extra hours, but you had never asked him about the dog or how his shift went. you’d never showed any interest about any of it. your ignorance to his situation made you feel like an awful, terrible friend, one whom nicholas still, for some reason, confided in. he had trusted you to not only keep his secret but to help him navigate his newfound responsibility, all from the comfort of your apartment. you had been upset with yourself, too, for the dull ache in your chest when you realized he wasn’t confessing something else to you in line for frozen yogurt.
you watched the green dot continue its consistent strides across your screen, the balmy beep of his vitals in the bottom left corner pacifying any nerves you might have had over the speed of his swings. his pulse was impressively steady at such heights, spiking only just before his webs made contact with the next rooftop, as if his new instincts might fail him. “you’re funny,” his voice cut through again, zero traces of humor in his tone, “you chew loud as fuck, though.”
“i can hear every time you fart in the suit, by the way,” you added, fishing for another chip just to add fuel to the fire, “you’re disgusting.”
“i’d like to see you try doing this shit without letting a little something slip,” nicholas countered, and you could hear the smile in his voice. you tracked the moving dot before you with the sounds of his webs stretching beneath his weight, “and i bet you’ve heard worse than that in your little eavesdropping sessions.”
“yeah, i wish you’d stop doing that,” you sighed into your mic, leaning back in your chair.
“what?” nicholas’s smirk was audible, his arrogance dripping through your headset, “having sex with other girls? are you jealous?”
“having sex in the suit,” you pulled the mic as close to your mouth as you could, just to get it through his skull. one aspect of nicholas’s superhero persona that you didn’t fully expect was the amplified sex appeal. he had always been attractive, even when the two of you were in school. your classmates, all the way through university, would befriend you with the sole intentions of asking you to set them up with him. so while you were very popular for all the wrong reasons, nicholas bled charisma in sweatpants and a hoodie and basically had to scrape suitors off his arm at every turn. you admitted it- nicholas was hot, and, if it were possible, he was even hotter bound by spandex, the ridges of his muscles and slopes of his body taut and accentuated by the textured fabric.
nicholas hesitated, most likely waiting for the ringing in his ears to subside. “if it helps, i take the suit off. mask stays on, though. don’t you worry.”
you were all too familiar with the fact that he kept the mask on during his activities. only one time had you been concerned with the stationary nature of his tracker and the quick increase of his heartrate and slipped your headset over your ears. you’d received your answer before you could even ask what the holdup was, the moans and panting enough to tell you all you needed to know. you had swiped the headset off your ear so fast that you almost ignored the heat that pooled in your stomach, the twitch in your finger that wanted to reach for the headphones again. your mind betrayed you that night, conjuring flashes of nicholas’s sculpted torso, damp with sweat, and his thighs flexing, shifting that one delicious vein on his hip you’d mentally traced a thousand times. you should have known he would have turned the spiderman image into some kind of fetish, and you should have known you’d fall for it. and more. “it doesn’t help, and i am worried,” you said, , “it is my only job to make sure you don’t get, like, sniped or flattened. the least you could do is send a text.”
“right, you’re right,” nicholas sighed to himself, “i’ll text next time and let you know i’m getting my web shooters unclogged.”
“shit,” you muttered, sitting up straight in your desk chair. you swiped the almost empty chip bag away from your keyboard, blowing a direct gust of air over the keys to clear it of stray crumbs.
nicholas sucked his teeth, “didnt like that one? what about ‘my spidey senses are tinglinggggg’?”
you scrolled through the panel of security footage on your screen, the black and white boxes winking with commotion. people shuffled past, frantic and panicked. bulky figures stood brazen in the center of a convenience store, masks pulls over their faces and weapons in hand. you zoomed in on the pixelated image; hunkered behind barely stocked shelves were civilians. “nicholas,” you steadied your voice, a contrast to his joking, lilted tone, “there’s a robbery at the corner store about five blocks from you, th-the one with the mural and the backwards toilet.”
outside your window, the sun had long been set, but the city was alive, bright. streetlights flickered, bike bells clinked over the constant whir of traffic. the corner store was close to your apartment. you passed it every day on your walk home, and the owner would usually let you swipe a candy bar if you came in late enough. if you were bordering on drunk after a long night of bar hopping with nicholas, he would slide you a cold bottle of water. you watched nicholas, his green dot, shift directions, swinging at impressive and impending speeds toward the store. he asked, “how many?”
“looks like four,” you gnawed on the inside of your cheek, “they’re armed, nico. try not to escalate anything. it looks like a hostage situation.”
armed was a bit of an understatement. whatever these guys were up to, this stunt at the store was merely a test run. their weapons were unlike anything you’d seen, far from the typical handgun you’d seen nicholas satiate with a web a dozen times, and even further from a crowbar or pocket knife; these guys weilded otherworldly weaponry. literally. they radiated white-hot power, barrels glowing even in the grainy security footage, the existence of which made you even more skeptical about their intentions. one of the guys wore a device as a backpack, a nozzle connected to a tube slithering around his shoulders. you’d bet it was venomous, too. this type of villain was far beyond your pay-grade, which was a net zero dollars, and even further beyond your scope of knowledge. it seemed… wrong. all of it, but nicholas was already in pursuit, already touching down at the scene.
you watched with your hand partially covering your face as nicholas, barely rendered in black and white, slipped through a broken window behind the men. his broad frame peeked from either side of the metal shelving as he slinked toward the civilians in the corner, lingering in the plentiful blindspots provided by their masks. through your headset, you could hear muffled and muddled speech, panicked gasps, and nicholas’s soothing voice promising safety. you knew he would provide, even if it put himself in danger. he whispered, knowing you could see him on the camera, “they’ve got the owner up front. think i can sneak these three out the way i came in?”
“if you can do it while they’re distracted,” you kept your voice low, even though no one could possibly hear you but him, “and be careful.”
distracted was not the word you would use to describe them, though, as they cornered the store owner at the front counter. if they wanted the money in the safe, all they needed to do was melt the lock with the atomic goo shooter they each had resting under their arms. there was zero need for a combination, for a show like this. it was a display of force, of power. it was a trap. and you caught onto it too late, just as nicholas ushered the group of three hostages in a cluster on the back wall toward the gap in the shattered store window.
your voice roared to life in his ear, “wait, nico-”
and then everything fell apart. you watched, eyes unfaltering with horror, as nicholas all but threw the civilians out of the store. you knew they’d need stitches from the glass lining the window and the shards on the sidewalk outside, but at least they were alive, something you could only hope for nicholas as he ducked behind a shelf, shooting a web from his hand and pulling another toward him as a barricade. in your headset, you could hear him grunting, and you could hear the commotion in tandem with the shaking, blurry footage before you. it’s spiderman! get him! the men corralled around him, zapping their weapons in an intimidating performance. nicholas cleared his throat, his pulse spiking, “you gotta catch me first, idiots.”
the scene erupted in mayhem; nicholas pulled two displays down on top of the guys, using their magazine covered bodies as a trampoline as he cleared his way to the other side of the room, throwing various snack and tourist items at the remaining two guys, the plastic wrapped sweets and handheld fans bouncing gracefully off their chests. you heard the hum of their weapons before you saw it, and you could only imagine how bright the glow was up-close. in a blaze of destruction, you watched nicholas evade the hot kiss of fire, basically running on top of the closely arranged shelving, his arms working faster than his brain. thankfully. “hey! that’s not fair,” he yelped, “i dont have a big fancy plasma ray!”
and then it all went dark- the footage ceased, leaving nothing but an empty, static hum. you flipped through the other cameras nearby, still hearing the clattering and zapping and whirring of whatever extraterrestrial technology nicholas was up against, but ultimately found nothing. you fullscreened his vitals, “i lost visual. get out of there, nicholas. im serious.” all you could do was wait. you slipped the headset off your ears, but you could still hear the faint grunting and smart-ass one-liners, watching as his heartrate spiked with the clatter, as his blood pressure dropped, as his respitatory rate climbed higher and higher. you had tunnel vision on that little blinking green dot in the center of chaos. it seemed to stir in circles, an endless loop from one corner of the room to another. you wondered how many times it could spin before it would eventually stop.
you wondered and wondered until, finally, it did. after what felt like hours, the commotion on the other end ceased, the digital green fleck stalling out in an alleyway a block down. you weren’t sure when he had left the shop or how you’d missed it, but, thankfully, he was out of there. he wasn’t running, but his heart was thumping a mile a minute. and so was yours. you slipped the headset back on with a pit low in your stomach and whispered, “nico?”
his breathing was ragged on the other side, and you could barely make out what he was saying, as if his earpiece got knocked loose, “how about, ‘getting a bit sticky tonight’?”
“what?”
“so you don’t intrude on my hookups,” he winced, “what if i texted you that im ‘getting sticky’? does that sound good?”
“that sounds fucking awful,” you admitted, the heaving of your chest evening out the more he talked. at least you knew he wasn’t too injured to be a dumbass. “they’re all terrible.”
he chuckled to himself, and the sound made your breath catch in your throat. he had always been the full package: handsome, genuine, funny. the two of you could make a joke out of nothing and laugh until your sides stitched, smacking one another when your cackling fizzled into gasps. you’d be absolutely breathless, wiping your tears with your shirt. then, nicholas would wipe his tears with your shirt. and it would all start again. that kind of chemistry only found you once, and you’d refused to ever let him go. it pained you to hear his laugh, now, stifled by whatever injuries he’d sustained in the corner store. he coughed, sighing deep. you asked, “are you okay?”
“took a ray gun to the shoulder,” nicholas’s voice was weak, amplified by the terrible sound quality, “better that than the ass, though. that’s what i always say.”
“be serious with me. is it bad?” you stood up as you interrogated him, picking mindlessly at your fingernails. it felt like the city had surrendered, suddenly too quiet. the streetlamps hummed louder, traffic slowing. “can you swing home?”
nicholas inhaled deep, heaving and huffing as he lifted himself off the ground. he choked out a pained noise, and you could practically imagine him doubled over, holding his shoulder like it would numb some of his pain. the beeping on your screen increased rapidly as he stood, his heartrate quickly surpassing yours. “fuck,” he gulped, “no, i can’t. i could try-”
“don’t,” you blurted before he could even consider making any of his injuries worse, for his own sake and for the sake of the community he swore to protect when he put on the suit. and for your sake, as well. the last thing you needed was him losing his strength mid-swing. “walk to mine- my roommate’s out for a few days.”
you expected a fight. you basically heard him nagging, you want me to walk to your apartment, suit out and everything? as if there weren’t spiderman impersonators on every corner. no one would have batted an eye. instead of arguing, nicholas caved with an exhausted sigh. “okay,” he sniffled, and it broke your heart.
when you saw nicholas again, he was in color: royal blue, black, and so much more red than you were used to. he’d had enough strength reserved to climb your building’s fire escape and rap three times on your window. it was still cracked at the bottom, just enough for you to slot your fingers in and push the rest of the way up, revealing his masked face. a precautionary strand of web billowed in the city’s warm breaths, one he used to tether himself to the building, just in case. you held out a shaking hand to him, and you were thankful your heartrate wasn’t the one displayed on the computer across the room when he took it. his hands were warm even through the material of the suit, damp with what you hoped was sweat. you steadied him as he slipped through the window frame, and he let you.
his injuries were worse than he claimed. ‘ray gun to the shoulder’ your ass. his shoulder was not the only place he was hit with a ray gun. his suit was tattered to bit on his torso, his shin, and the side of his mask was scorched, tattered down to his neck. you grabbed his face, instinctively, rolling the material around his neck up and up, slowly in case you revealed any new, secret lacerations. when you pulled the mask the rest of the way off his head, his hair poofed to life, falling almost perfectly over his sticky forehead, into his red-brimmed eyes. your fingers gently grabbed his chin, turning his head from side-to-side, scanning for signs of hurt but finding only a scratch in front of his ear and a cut on his lip. blood pooled there as he let a smile overtake his tired face, red teeth still shining as he asked, “what’s the damage, doc?”
“not sure,” you said, tongue prodding your cheek as you feigned concern, “does this hurt?” you stuck your finger in your mouth, and then you stuck your finger in his ear. nicholas gasped, tucking his head into his shoulder and shoving your hand away. and then, he winced, coughing out a laugh and ghosting his palm over his stomach. seeing him in pain was worlds worse than hearing him. his brows seemed permanently creased, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, both from the fight and having to keep himself upright after. he didn’t have to do that, anymore, at least not by himself. “show me,” you coaxed.
nicholas stepped out of what was left of the suit, kicking it absentmindedly under your bed if only to distract from the fact that he was bloodied and bruised and standing in nothing but his boxers. and you were so fucking close to him, warm hands smoothing over his neck, down his chest, picking up his hands and inspecting every individual knuckle on his fingers. you bent them, squeezed them. you spun him around to check his sides, traced the dip in the center of his back. that one might have been selfish, but it had to be done. checking reflexes, or whatever. there were reflexes in your back, right?
his shins were merely scraped, as if he’d tripped in a parking lot. his shoulder, however, was worse than you anticipated, the gash deep and trickling a thick stream of blood down his arm now that the suit was no longer there to absorb it. you told him to stay, like a newly trained puppy, even though you knew he wouldn’t- couldn’t- go anywhere, and you slipped into the next room to grab whatever first-aid supplies you could find. some of the items you grabbed weren’t even first-aid, but you couldn’t think straight knowing your best friend was possibly bleeding out in your bedroom. and when you returned to the room, nicholas had slumped down into the floor, leaning back against the side of your bed. his head was leaned forward, legs outstretched before him. you’d sat with him like that before, once, when the two of you ate a little bit too much of a brownie your mutual friend had made. you stared out the window until the sun came up, unsure if you blinked even once the whole night. nicholas said you did, so you did.
“still with me?” you half-joked as you crouched down in front of him. you dumped the supplies in a messy pile beside him, scrunching an old towel on the floor under his elbow to soak up the dripping blood.
“i fucked it up,” he mumbled, voice quiet but broken, “the suit, and the mask. its all fucked.”
“hey,” you put your hand on his other shoulder, a different kind of burning, and squeezed gently, “we’ll fix it.”
you reached for a cloth, warm and wet, and wiped at the dried blood on his bicep. soft, delicate swirls on his skin left angry red splotches, like his cheeks when he was embarrassed or too sweaty. and when you inched closer to the wound itself, your touch was tender, like he was fragile. in many ways, he was- he just refused to show it. like any mask, his occasionally cracked, letting you see fragments of the turmoil beneath his cool, unbothered exterior. you dabbed the cloth against the gash in his skin, just once to see if the blood had stopped flowing, and nicholas’s entire body jerked beneath you. he sucked in a breath through stained, gritted teeth. you squeezed his other shoulder again, whispering, “sorry.”
“you’ll fix it, you mean,” nicholas grumbles, keeping his head hanging carelessly on its axis, “that’s how this works. i mess things up, and you fix them.” he leaned his head back, then, against the side of your bed. for the first time all night, his gaze fell on yours, and he was so tired. in more ways than one. you furrowed your brows, taken aback by the sudden deprecation.
“you don’t mess things up,” you were careful not to let your exterior split, not to let him see how deep that assumption really cut you. you reached for the bottle of saline solution and gently poured it over his shoulder. nicholas squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hand into a fist under you. a curse or two tumbled from his lips, but you couldn’t hear them over your repeated sorry, sorry, sorry as the liquid seeped in and around the cut. with most of the blood wiped away, it didn’t look nearly as bad. you breathed a sigh of relief, reaching for the roll of gauze next to you. “good news. i don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
nicholas frowned, watching you roll out a small patch in your hands. “see,” he muttered, “fixing it right now.” even though your hands were shaking, even though you couldnt find the end of the roll to start unraveling it. you were a fumbling mess under his attention, but he didn’t care. he only saw the good parts of you, his gentle and attentive friend. even as you sat between his legs, skin sticking to him from the proximity and the growing heat of the room, he saw only his best friend.
“stop acting like that, nico.”
“like what?”
“like you aren’t important to people," your voice cracked with the volume, hushed but desperate. you wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, but you couldn’t. he’d bleed again, and you’d have to get another towel and start this whole process over again. you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, attempting to disrupt the tension you’d accidentally brewed, like thick wine. “like you don’t save people.”
“are you being serious right now?” nicholas tilted his head toward you, pressing you to make eye contact with him, even as he winced from the pull of his muscle. you kept your eyes focused on taping the gauze to his skin, like if you pulled your attention from the area, it would erupt. it would consume him entirely, like he was consuming you, his stare bearing into the skin of your cheek as you gnawed on it. nicholas blinked once, like he couldn’t believe you, “because i can’t do shit without you. all i have is sticky hands, and i had a cool suit before i got fucking knocked around like a ragdoll for an hour. all because i got the security camera shot and you couldn’t tell me what to do.”
“you’re mad because i help you?” you flickered your eyes to his briefly and entirely on accident. from his tone, you expected fire, but you found only a glossy veneer over the dark, hazy eyes you knew so well.
“no,” nicholas said, firmly. it was the most sure he’d sounded all night, or possibly ever. “i’m upset because i need you to help me. i need you to watch traffic cams so i don’t get flattened by a bus while i’m running from my problems. i need you to tell me when someone needs help because my spidey senses tap out at, like, two miles. i need you to tell me where to go when i’m all turned around. i’m not the hero- you are.”
he let the tears fall as he spoke, lip quivering and hands shaking in an honest confession. he’d been vulnerable with you before, letting you see him cry during sad movies and admitting when one of your other friends hurt his feelings in passing. you’d been there for him after every breakup he’d endured and caused. you were no stranger to his emotions, but the culmination of events made this moment much more intense. it didn’t help that your nerves were wired so tight they might snap. nicholas shook under your touch as you taped the last strip over the gauze on his shoulder. good as new. nicholas inhaled, throat constricting the breath until it shook. he let his fingers wander to the hem of your shorts, pulling at the fabric to get your attention, “are you upset with me?”
the tears welled in your eyes, too, as you wiped one stray droplet from the top of his splotchy cheek with your thumb. you let it dry on the pad of your finger. you said, the most sure you’d sounded all night, or possibly ever, “no.”
you dragged your eyes up his neck as his throat bobbed, uncertainly, and your lips curled into a reassuring smile as you met his gaze again. there was a film over him, like sepia, like the color had been peeled from his face, until you cupped his cheek with your hand, smoothing your fingertips over the scratch in front of his ear. nicholas didn’t wince, only held his eyes steady on yours, fingers still drawing small circles on your thigh, just below the edge of your shorts. you leaned forward and dropped your head to his chest, resting your cheek on his skin, tacky with sweat, as your arms curled around his sides. nicholas lifted his good hand and placed it, naturally, between your shoulderblades, making languid strokes down your spine as you nestled into him. your voice was small as you spoke again, “you’re more than just spiderman, nicholas. i need you to know that.”
“i know,” he whispered, “i’m also a major sex symbol.” and then he laughed, lightly. he laughed as much as he could without it hurting deep in his core where bruises would later bloom.
“i’m being serious, nico,” you muttered, lightly smacking his back, “even if some people only see you as a piece of ass in spandex, they’d love you without the mask, too.”
in the silence that lingered, you assumed nicholas was thinking about how to turn the fact that you called him a “piece of ass” around on you. it was a prime opportunity to make you regret being nice to him, to make you revoke all sincerity in the foreseeable future, but nicholas’s chest rose and fell in solid, pondering swells. you heard him open his mouth, inhale, and then abandon the idea. he did this three times in the silence, his hand stalling on your spine. and when he spoke, finally, his voice was hoarse, “do you?”
“do i what?”
“love me?” nicholas gulped, rigid under you, “without the mask?”
you didn’t have to think about it, “yes.”
you loved him completely and in a way even you didn’t fully understand. you would have done anything for him, knowing he felt the same about you because you were best friends. you’d signed a contract as children, one that was sealed in blood from a papercut binding the two of you together forever. you remembered something in there about getting married if you both reached a certain age without finding true love, along with standard bff contract business that swore loyalty to the other person and described snack-sharing laws; he would always take any flavor that was blue, and you would have first dibs on any red. you adhered to every detail in the contract even now, cutting the red and blue gummy worms in half at the frozen yogurt shop after he’d revealed his life-altering secret to you. and it was incredibly difficult to cut the worms after they’d been sitting in the frozen treats, but you did it anyway, sealed in blood. but you were acutely aware that you loved him in ways that exceeded that contract. you’d grown to love him in a real, authentic way. you’d imagined loving him for the rest of your life, and you’d felt ridiculous for it.
nicholas’s heart slammed against his ribcage, over and over and over beneath your ear. you didn’t need the vitals on your computer to know his heartrate was through the roof. with a croak, he prompted, “in what way?”
“well,” you tried to control the wave in your voice. in the same way you knew nicholas was lying when his hands were steady, he knew you were lying when your voice faltered. you were forever grateful that you rarely found the need to lie to him. you weren’t lying now, but it felt like you were omitting the truth. your voice was partially shaking as you gave him a half-lie. “you’re my best friend.”
he traced his fingertips down your spine again. “and?”
you sat up from your place between his thighs, peeling your cheek from his chest and feeling off-kilter from the warmth on one side of your face. you looked him in the eyes, keeping your expression soft despite your confusion. you could’t decipher his intentions. what would he gain from knowing your true feelings? unless he, too, had been keeping secrets from you. unless nicholas had been harboring feelings for you in a pit in his stomach just like you. unless nicholas had been pushing down the urge to hold your hand as you walked to the corner store just like you. there was only one way to find out, and the benefit of a near-death experience was that all confessions and actions could be retrospectively blamed on the adrenaline spike and confrontation with mortality. you pulled your eyes from his, flickering your attention to his lips for a fraction of a second, the spark of a dull match before the winning strike. but when your eyes returned, his were on your lips, too. and they stayed there. the match was blazing, curling in on itself, scorched and wilting the same way your tongue felt as it let the word tumble out, “and.”
the way nicholas kissed you was the stuff of dreams, in that every touch was subtle; every choice was perceptive as he slotted his lips, gently, between yours. neither of you moved at first, simply swimming in the idea of it all. the taste of him made you dizzy, how sweet he was beneath the initial tang of metal, like the cheap chocolate coins you’d found at the store when you were younger that were shrouded in a contagious foil wrapper. the first press of his lips to yours was like peeling away the metallic, protective layer. nicholas pulled away, tentatively, before brushing his lips against yours, once and then twice, like he was testing the waters. it was you that made the second move, angling your head to capture his mouth in a kiss just as soft as the first. he sighed into you, his breath tickling your face as his hands settled low on your hips.
you hummed against him, letting your body finally relax into his kiss, his touch. it felt strange, in the unfamiliar sense and nowhere near the wrong one. nicholas once confessed that it was unusual that the two of you had never “experimented,” that all close friends have kissed once or twice just to see. you’d laughed it off, then, but it was all beginning to make sense now. he was incredibly drunk when he said that, so gone that he probably didn’t even remember it, and you never brought it up, thinking you were preserving his dignity, that he would have been so humiliated to have even suggested kissing you. you wished that you could go back in time and tell that version of you to bring it up. bring it up as soon as humanly possible. you pressed your palms against his chest, sliding them up around the back of his neck at the same time you bumped your tongue against his lips.
and when nicholas let you in, he let you in fully. the slide of his tongue against yours was electric, softly licking into your mouth and sending charged sparks to your belly like a livewire. you sucked his tongue deeper into you, and nicholas moaned. the sound was softer than you anticipated, less intense than you’d imagined. it was even less confident than you’d heard before, that fateful evening you had slipped the headset on and invaded his valuable privacy. this version of nicholas was unguarded, raw, yours. this version of nicholas was barely holding it together as you climbed further into his lap, threading your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. it was slow, sweet, and kind of messy, noses bumping in time with your overlapping sighs and moans. it was a perfect song.
nicholas disconnected from you, resting his forehead on yours as you brushed the hair from sticking to the side of his face. he squeezed your waist, flitting his eyes to yours to gauge your reaction as he breathed, like a whisper, “i love you. i’ve loved you for a long time, i think,” he licked his lips, pressing them together into a thin line, “just didn’t know it.”
you thought of every time you searched for him in a crowded room, especially the times you never found him. you thought of every protective arm thrown over your shoulder on your walks home. you thought of the years of heartfelt “goodnight” and “get home safe” conversations on the front stoop of your apartment, neither of you having the courage to say i love you, afraid of what it might really mean. even though you meant it with every shared meal, every impromptu sleepover, and every game thrown during game nights just to see the other beaming with pride.
“i love you, too,” your smile felt like it was going to split your head right down the center, “i think.” you knew. but you understood how scary it must have been for him to tell you how he felt. you, however, were perfectly fine swallowing it down forever. for nicholas, if he confessed and you didn’t feel the same, he would have lost more than just the “brains” of his spiderman gig- he would've risked losing his best friend, too, although you couldn’t imagine a world where you cut nicholas off for any reason, especially for something as sweet as having a crush on you. he knew too much about you, anyhow, had endured too many of your late-night conspiracy theories and stress-induced breakdowns to get off the hook that easily.
“don’t feel like you have to say it,” nicholas pulled back, letting you fully see his face, his serious, stern expression, “especially since i, like, cried and stuff.”
“you cried?” you feigned ignorance, casting a curious glance at the ceiling and tapping your chin with an animated finger, “i don’t remember that, sorry.”
“right, right,” nicholas smiled, dropping his head to hide the flush on his cheeks, “i said that i was useless. do you remember that?”
“mhm,” you nodded, brows furrowing. you couldn’t tell where he was going with this, but you feared he was going to spiral again. luckily, you had a lot of practice keeping him afloat. you smoothed your hands down his neck as he manually turned the gears in his head.
“okay,” nicholas’s hands cautiously slid beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely breaching the curve of your waist where the band of your shorts rested, folded over from leaning onto him. you sucked in a short gasp at the contact, feeling the goosebumps prickle your hot skin. “i said that i need you,” he squeezed your sides, pulling you closer to him. his voice was soft, breath fanning over your neck, “remember that?”
nicholas tugged your waist until you were situated fully against him, straddling the plush expanse of his thighs, now painfully aware of just how clothed you were in comparison to the thin boxers hugging his figure. there had to be a way to wear clothes under the suit, but you didn’t care enough to find one, selfishly drinking in every inch of his soft, partially scraped and bruised skin. you’d never been able to touch him, not really. nicholas, on the other hand, was physically affectionate with you in ways you couldn’t even comprehend, constantly draping an arm over your shoulder or kicking your leg, playfully. you were afraid of what would happen if you did the same, if your arm would burst into a torch or your head would explode, like fireworks. because that would happen to you, of course. but now you were free to roam with selfish hands. you raked your fingertips up his sides, and the flames never came, but the fireworks did; they sparked low in your core as nicholas urged you even closer, settling you right above the obvious tent in his boxers. “is this okay?” he whispered, just for you.
outside, the city stirred in short bursts of life. the warm breeze evolved into a rainstorm, the mellow pattering of droplets on the fire escape punctuating the sounds of your breathing, your gasps. “perfect,” you whispered back. you held his face in your hands, committing him to memory, breaking every rule you’d set for yourself since your feelings for him started shifting from friend to something else. you allowed yourself to kiss him again, slotting your lips into his, parting them and sliding your tongue over his. chocolate coins, blue gummy candy, cold water, rain on asphalt. you moaned into his mouth before you had even moved your hips, overwhelmed by him alone. but when you finally sank down, pressing your aching core against the strained outline of his cock, you felt the flames ignite. they started at your fingertips, threading through his hair and keeping his mouth moving hungrily on yours, and they traveled up your arms to your chest, where your heart threatened to either leap out of your ribs or fall flat into your stomach. and the flames settled in a blazing bouquet of heat right above your hips, where the friction of nicholas’s twitching cock nudged your clit in mind-numbing strokes. even through your shorts, you felt all of him, but you wanted more.
“fuck,” nicholas’s hips twitched beneath you, tipping his head back with his eyes squeezed shut, “need to feel you. c-can you ride me?”
“nico,” you rocked your hips, slowly, over him, shaking your head, “i don’t want to hurt you. let’s take it slow, yeah?” his wounds were still fresh, and you could only guess the places he’d be bruised tomorrow- his stomach, his ribs. the last thing you wanted to do was put him in any more pain, strain his body.
“you won’t hurt me,” he whined, “well, you might, but i don’t care. i’ve been taking it slow for years.” nicholas dropped his hands from your waist to your ass, taking two fistfuls of your flesh and squeezing, mumbling against your lips, “i don’t want to wait anymore.”
who were you to deny him? who were you to deny yourself?
“okay, nico,” you breathed. you realized that this was one of many firsts: your first time with nicholas, your first time being on top with anyone, and, most prominently, your first time being nervous around him. he was magnetic and forgiving, and you were rarely afraid to be yourself around him. you doubted the existence of a judgmental bone in his perfect, fragile body. nicholas knew how to make you feel at home, how to ease your mind in unfamiliar situations. he held your hand when you first tried ice skating, and he didn’t laugh when you busted your ass eight times on the frozen rink. he helped you back up, both hands interlaced with yours, and kept you steady. you hoped he would do the same now, and you weren’t far off, his palms sliding, comfortingly, down your calves as you stood up from his lap to shimmy out of your shorts.
it felt like autopilot, the way you’d played out these initial moments in your head dozens of times, all in a dreamlike haze and never reaching the good parts. it was like a poorly filmed highlight reel of nicholas’s mouth on your neck, clumsy hands getting caught in your bra, and the empty collision of bodies. you’d wake each morning feeling more frustrated than the last, logging onto your computer in the evening to casually track his every movement like you weren’t going to dream that night of elaborate weddings and lingering stares. but nothing compared to the reality, the electric nerves and adrenaline of having his calloused fingers striking, like matches, on your legs. your dreams couldnt imitate the fuzzy, fluttering pit in your chest as nicholas stared, fully rapt, fully captured by you, watching with his mouth softly agape as you stepped out of your underwear.
if you could have slithered into his brain, you would have drowned beneath the overwhelming shroud of regret, swirling around in his skull like a swarm. the buzzing would have rattled you senseless. nicholas had more regrets than he cared to count, many of which concerned the type of socks he wore inside of his shoes and buying collectibles when his bank account begged him to buy some produce instead. his gut had regrets, too. but at the very center of the swarm, the queen, was how long he’d went denying his feelings for you. he had brushed his butterflies off as misfire, as sheer happiness. other people felt tingly when they hung out with their friends, too. he convinced himself that it was totally normal to lose all rational thinking within three feet of you. on any other occasion, he would have just asked you, as though you were his own personal search engine, but he couldn’t call you and ask what the movie you had just watched was about because he didn’t pay a lick of attention to anything that wasn’t you. when nicholas researched it himself, his i cant think straight around my best friend searches yielded results like you’re fucked, pal. and he so was. he regretted being in so deep and pushing it down, fucking other girls to get a reaction out of you like an asshole. because you were kind, you never gave him one. because you were perfect, you gave him shit for it, way less than he deserved. and now, he was sitting, weak in every way and completely at your mercy, grateful you were trusting him with your body, that you felt the same way for him. he regretted that, too, that he’d wasted so much time thinking you could never love him back. he wanted to lean over, pat the side of his head two times like a cartoon character, and let all his regrets spill out like scrabble pieces for you to see. instead, he slid his hands up the backs of your thighs, diligently, like it was second nature to pull you closer to him, and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee. he whispered against the tender, sensitive skin there, “my beautiful girl,” and hoped that would remedy the buzzing in his head.
it did nothing to dull the buzzing in your belly, however; the intimate gesture only turned your insides over and over. his hair tickled your thighs as his pressed gentle kisses up and up, until his breath was ghosting over the soaked, puffy lips of your pussy. you resisted the urge to squeeze your legs together, already kind of embarrassed by how wet he had made you from nothing but jutting the outline of his cock against you and confessing. it was one thing to hear that he loved you; it was an entirely different thing to feel it, the warm, feather of a kiss he pressed to the top of your pussy. a shudder racked down your spine, mirroring the vibration of his voice as he asked, “is this okay?”
you peered down at him, threading your fingers in the back of his hair. “perfect,” you said, again, and nicholas smiled, the expression bleeding all the way into his eyes. he dipped his tongue between your still slick folds, slowly drawing the hot muscle over your clit with a groan, one of pure gratification. like licking brownie batter off the spoon, he plunged his tongue deeper into you, curling it around the sensitive bud at the precipice until you were rocking, gingerly, on his mouth.
he said, “so fucking sweet, baby,” and you felt your knees tremble beneath you, “soaking wet, sliding around on my tongue.” you curled your fingers in his hair as he hummed into your heat. the rumble of his voice went straight to your empty hole, pulsing around nothing. his lips drove you insane on a normal day- sweet, plump, and so expressive that you could read him from across the room- but, now, as he sucked your clit between them, his tongue flitting against it and twisting that molten coil inside of you, you were positive that he could have simply kissed you to orgasm. not that you would know, since he detached his lips from you just as the pleasure began to build, just as your chest began to swell unevenly, just as your hips moved with a mind of their own, chasing your high on his tongue. “not yet, angel.”
compared to the smug expression on his face, you were undoubtedly scowling. nicholas reached for your hand, sliding it out of his hair and to his lips instead. he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, hoping it would dissolve the exasperated glare you were boring into him but knowing it would make him feel better about his selfish decision to want to feel your orgasm rather than taste it. although, he planned to do that, too, on a separate occasion when his shoulder was healed and he could prop your legs up around his neck and push you over the edge until you couldn’t think anymore. but for now, he soothed your annoyance with a small smile, trying to ignore how painfully hard he was in his boxers. there were many ways to fix that, but he was only interested in one. he tugged your hand until you were back on the floor with him, on your knees between his legs, just as you were earlier as you cleaned his wounds, as you tended to him like a book with a weathered spine. he would never deserve you- nicholas was certain of this. he was also certain that he was going to die if he didn’t feel you around him soon.
and you felt the same; nicholas noticed the way you glanced down at his lap, at the outline of his dick constricted by thin material, mind running wild. from what you’d felt, you were positive he was going to split you in two, but you also knew he would piece you back together afterwards. you leaned forward, feeling your slick leak onto the inside of your thighs as you dipped your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down just enough to uncover his cock. he was beyond hard, tip leaking onto his stomach from a torturous ensnarement and shining glossy red like a coveted valentines candy. you thought about the contract, about how you had dibs on anything red.
you thought he would come right then, as you wrapped your fist around his base. it was like he hadn’t been touched in ages when you knew from personal experience that he’d been messing around in the suit. but he never sounded like this when you’d accidentally tuned in, so unguarded and desperate that even the slightest graze of your hand made his hips buck. he sucked in a sharp breath, pinching his eyes closed. “you’re killing me.”
“just returning the favor, dickhead,” you taunted, mourning your ruined orgasm as you stroked him, slowly. you let your lips brush against his, whispering over the sound of his panting, “or, what? did you want to come, too?”
“f-fuck you,” nicholas rolled his eyes and then his hips, chasing your hand as you teased him, “or fuck me. please, fuck me.”
only because he said “please,” and not at all because he was gorgeous, pliant putty in your hands did you succumb to his wishes, both of them. sure, you’d fuck yourself and, sure, you’d fuck him, all at once. you felt your walls clench in anticipation, pussy dripping as you positioned yourself over him. the descent onto his cock was agonizingly slow but absolutely necessary, letting your walls adjust to the stretch of him while reveling in the searing pleasure. nicholas leaned into you and captured your lips with his, attempting to swallow your moans. instead, he whined into your mouth, keeping his lips against yours as your jaw went slack. you felt so fucking full, having nearly taken all of him, unexpectedly thick and veiny. you felt him grating inside of you, slowly lighting up every nerve ending, stretching you to hell and back. you steadied yourself, gripping the edge of your bed behind him, surpassing his broad, stone-carved shoulders right in front of you. goddamn ray gun.
you moaned into his mouth when you’d reached the base of him, when your centers met at last, at least physically. emotionally, you and nicholas had been intertwined more intimately than this for what might have been years, each of you too stupid to realize the other had been right in front of you the entire time. you realized this, looking straight into his eyes, hips brushing, your bottom lip stuck between his teeth: this was right. nicholas felt it, too, fingers splayed on your back in a comforting grasp. he was keeping you closer, if it were even possible. he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, which you couldn’t help but sigh into, and mumbled, “beautiful,” he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist until you were practically flush against him, “so fucking beautiful, and mine.”
and then, you moved, a faint roll of your hips that wrecked the both of you instantly. it was intoxicating, the throb of his thick cock inside of you. a moan ripped through you at the sensation, “fuck, nico.”
“i know, baby,” he gulped, “you’re so tight.”
baby. it felt natural, hearing him say it. his voice was deep and hypnotic, a slight rasp to it after the nights events. you wanted to take care of him, even now, with the tip of his cock nudging the depths of your body. so, you rode him slow, partially to keep his injuries from progressing but mostly because you wanted to feel him for as long as possible, wanted to savor the breathy groans and whines that spilled from his mouth every time you lifted almost completely off of him. you wanted to savor the feeling of his nails digging into your ass as he watched the point where your bodies were joined, where your pussy swallowed him, welcomed him. your pace was driving him wild, his hips lurching gently up into you, driving him deeper inside of you in a way you didn’t consider possible until it was happening. your entire body was on fire with him: the taste of him on your tongue, the caress of his palms down your spine, and the blistering pleasure coiling in your stomach from the steady tilt of your hips.
“taking all of me so well, sweetheart,” nicholas groaned as you began to stutter, your movements growing messy as your climax approached. he slipped his hand between the two of you and pressed his thumb to your clit, sliding the pad of his finger along the swollen, sensitive bud in circles. the way you clenched around him only made him increase his speed, his pressure, drawing that coil inside of you tighter. “does that feel good? hm? tell me.”
“feels so good, nic,” you whined, “so, so good. i’m really close.”
“come on my cock, baby, please,” nicholas pressed his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin as if you needed any convincing, “wanna feel you squeeze me, make a mess on me.”
“wanna feel you, too,” you mumbled, and nicholas pulled his face away, shocked, like he couldn’t believe what you were asking him. but he didnt argue, only held onto your hip and rolled his, faster, to meet yours as you bobbed on his cock, his thumb still orbiting your clit in a pleasure-driven frenzy. “feels so good, nicholas. please don’t stop.”
and he didn’t until you were doubled over, face buried in his chest as your orgasm barreled into you. you chanted his name over and over like a prayer, pussy fluttering and squeezing him even more than before. you kept your hips rolling, riding out both your orgasm and his as nicholas threw his head back, mouth agape. you felt him twitch inside of you before you felt the warmth pool in your core, hot, thick ropes of his cum pumping into you. “holy fuck,” he groaned, “still cumming. fuck.” everything was hot. his skin was still damp, small beads of sweat collecting on his neck, and you felt your own body clinging to his as you stilled on his lap.
most prominently, however, you felt something strange, something cold where nicholas’s hands had latched onto you and had remained latched onto you for a concerning amount of time. curiously, you pawed at his wrist, attempting to disconnect his skin from yours, but it just wouldn’t budge.
and then you realized: he was stuck.
“nicholas,” you raised, “did you fucking web on me?”
his cheeks bloomed red, a shy smile taking over his lips as his chest heaved, recovering from his intense orgasm. of course, you would have some shit to say to him immediately. but he wasn’t sure what you were talking about until he tried to pry his fingers from your flesh. as if he had superglued his hand to you, your skin stayed attached to him as he gently lifted his fingers. in a clump at the base of your spine, and draping in loose strands over your ass, was silk- a cluster of webbing, sticky and fresh.
nicholas blinked, just as shocked as you, “uh, yeah, i did.”
“you didn’t think to mention that before?”
“honestly, it’s… new.”
he was still working to pull his hands from you, slowly lifting and flexing his fingers in small, delicate motions. he was obviously embarrassed in a way you couldn’t understand. you thought he had more control over the web thing by this point, but, honestly, as long as it wasn’t in your hair, mouth, or eyes, you didn’t care. it was kind of… hot?
you traced his jaw with your finger, biting back a shit-eating grin. “would you say i… unclogged your web shooters?”
nicholas laughed, finally pulling his hand free before pressing a light kiss to your lips, “i knew you liked that one.”
other: trouble, kinks, big tits, thigh/panty fucking, fat ass, chunky y/n, daughter, bent over, obey, break, worship, squirt, belly dance, i miss you, subspace, i love you, small tits, shooting blanks, oral fixation, teasing, brat taming, too shy, ass fucking (u regret it), we should break up
