the events that follow after your boyfriend and his best friend kiss during a game of spin the bottle.
pairing: wang nicholas x fem!reader x byun euijoo
warnings: smut MDNI, drinking, threesome, MXM content (don’t read if you don’t like that), masturbation, nichojoo making out, fingering, hickeys, handjobs, blowjobs, nipple play, pussy eating, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, cumming inside (and out?), lmk if i missed anything.
wc: around 5k.
“no. absolutely not,” ej said, grabbing the empty beer bottle from the middle of the circle.
“hey, the spin the bottle gods have spoken,” nicholas responded, raising his hands up in defense. “they want me to kiss your girlfriend.”
you stared down at your lap, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. you’d only been at this party for an hour, and you were already regretting coming.
you’d wanted a nice, quiet evening in with your boyfriend, ej, and typically, he wanted the same. but it was his friend fuma’s birthday, so he had to come to the party, and you went along as well.
how you ended up playing a game of spin the bottle in a circle of only men was beyond you, though. so far, you’d witnessed some of ej’s best friends kiss, which was an interesting sight to the say the least.
but then nicholas spun the bottle, and for the first time that night, it landed on you.
“no one wants you to kiss my girlfriend,” ej argued. “especially not me or her.”
“come on already,” yuma whined. “either kiss or don’t—i’m getting bored.”
nicholas looked over at you. you looked at ej, ej looked back at you, and then you looked back to nicholas.
“oh my god,” ej huffed. “you can kiss her cheek, but that’s the most you’re getting.”
you let out the sigh you’d been holding in, relieved that ej made the decision for you because you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do.
so, nicholas crawled over across the circle to you, tilted your head to the side and planted a warm, soft kiss on your cheek, lingering slightly longer than he should’ve.
ej rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval—not at you, but at his own best friend.
the game carried on, and proved quite entertaining as you got to watch many of ej and your friends share a kiss.
and then it was ej’s turn to spin.
of course, out of all the people it could’ve landed on, it landed on nicholas.
“wow, i’m pretty lucky today,” nicholas said with a glint in his eyes, a smile on his typically serious face. “tell me i get more than just your cheek.”
“you’re such a freak,” ej responded, and then he looked over at you. “it’s not up to me, though. it’s whatever y/n is comfortable with.”
your breath caught in your throat. everyone in the circle was looking at you now. it was all up to you whether or not you were okay with nicholas kissing your boyfriend.
you knew it was just a stupid party game. it wasn’t a big deal, and you knew how ej and nicholas liked to joke around and flirt sometimes. this was nothing. it was just a kiss.
“you can kiss,” you said, leaning back on your palms with a smirk. “just make sure to put on a show.”
“you’re a freak, too,” ej said to you jokingly, before turning back to nicholas.
the circle watched with anticipation as nicholas crawled across the floor yet again, then sank to his knees once he was in front of ej.
you watched carefully as nicholas brought his hands up to cup your boyfriends face, tilting his head up. ej gazed up into nicholas’s eyes, his expression completely serious. in fact, both of them looked far too serious for just a dumb party game.
their faces were getting closer and closer, their lips just an inch away. and then they were pressed together—nicholas cradling ej’s face in his large hands, their lips moving fluidly against each other.
you gulped, feeling your face start to warm. it seemed like they were actually into it, like they’d forgotten where they were and what they were doing, that it was just a game of spin the bottle. they seemed to have forgotten that people were watching them.
they weren’t even kissing anymore, but entirely making out. you swore you even saw a glimpse of one of their tongues for just a second, and it made your breath hitch in your throat.
“jesus, you guys,” yudai spoke up, laughing. “you can quit now.”
nicholas pulled back, lips glistening with your boyfriends saliva. ej stared up at him, a glimmer of something in his eye that you couldn’t make out.
if you weren’t euijoo’s girlfriend, you would’ve thought they were the ones dating. you felt like by just sitting there, you were interrupting something.
the circle fell silent—an awkward silence. nicholas cleared his throat, then shuffled back to his spot in the circle.
“um,” ej spoke, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “i don’t really wanna play anymore.”
you noticed he had his hands awkwardly positioned over his lap, and when he saw you noticed, he pulled his knees into his chest.
“me neither,” nicholas said. “i’ve kissed enough people.”
they met each others eyes from across the circle, then quickly tore their gazes apart.
“let’s go get another drink,” you suggested, trying to intercept and break the tension.
“yes!” ej agreed, hoisting himself up. “that’s a great idea.”
together, you two found your way through other party goers, into the kitchen. ej was quick to pour himself a hefty cup of liquor.
he took a long sip, then placed his cup on the counter and turned to you.
“i’m so sorry,” he said. “i don’t know what happened. i mean—i didn’t think he was gonna kiss me like that, and then it just kept going and we’ve both had too much to drink, and—”
suddenly, ej stopped talking, his gaze falling just past you, and he gulped.
you frowned, turning around to see what it was that had captured his attention. of course, it was nicholas, leaning in the doorway.
“that was hot,” he said, walking over to you two.
“shut up,” ej scolded.
nicholas chuckled, taking a sip from his red cup.
“well, y/n thought it was hot, too,” he said, motioning over to you. your eyes widened. “i saw the way you were watching us.”
ej’s eyebrows furrowed even further together, glancing over at you. both of them, with equally intimidating stares, were facing you, waiting for you to admit it or defend yourself.
what were you supposed to say? would ej get mad if you admitted that you did think it was kind of hot watching him make out with his best friend? would he think you were weird?
“i-i—”
you were sputtering out nonsense, still fighting a battle as to whether you wanted to defend yourself or admit the truth.
luckily, nicholas was there to do it for you.
“look at her,” he said with a laugh. “it’s obvious she liked what she saw. we’ll do it again for you, if you want.”
“no, we won’t,” euijoo interjected with a scoff.
and then, just for a split second, he saw it. on your face, a flash of disappointment. it was unconscious even to you, but it seemed like deep down, you were a bit disappointed that he wasn’t interested in recreating the show you’d seen just a few minutes earlier.
“wait a minute,” he said. “you actually liked it?”
“i-i mean, i don’t know,” you answered, struggling to meet either of their eyes.
“tell me, baby,” ej pried. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be upset.”
your face was pulsating, your cheeks red. it took you a minute to muster up the strength to give him the true answer.
“yeah,” you finally admitted. “i liked it.”
you glanced up at them for just a moment to see them exchanging some kind of look. you didn’t know what it meant. all you knew was that nicholas was smirking at euijoo, a mischievous little grin.
“you know,” nicholas said, setting his cup down, “i think we should get out of here.”
-
the three of you left the party together and ended up back at yours and ej’s apartment.
it was awkward, admittedly, sitting on the couch in between the two men. none of you quite knew what to say, and the silence was deafening.
of course, it was nicholas who eventually broke the silence.
“so, should we get it started?” he asked.
“get what started?” euijoo asked, already annoyed.
“you know,” nicholas replied. “your girl wants a show. let’s give her one. and now that we’re all alone, she can join in on the fun.”
euijoo glanced down at you, scanning your face, looking for the assurance that you wanted to keep going.
“you really wanna do this?” he asked you.
“if you do, i do,” you affirmed.
he took a deep breath, glancing from you over to nicholas.
then, finally, “fine. let’s go to the bedroom.”
although it wasn’t his apartment, nicholas led the way down the hall to the bedroom, practically skipping with excitement.
you and euijoo followed, and within a few seconds, the three of you were on the bed.
you were laying back against the pillows, while euijoo and nicholas sat beside each other down at the end of the bed where your feet were.
“did you like kissing me earlier?” nicholas asked, eyes trailing ej up and down.
“it was…” euijoo trailed off, searching for the right word. “fine.”
nicholas scoffed, offended.
“it was better than fine and you know it,” he replied.
you sat up on your elbows, hardly sparing a blink as you watched their faces get closer and closer to each other.
“i wasn’t thinking straight,” ej said. “it’s hard to remember.”
nicholas hummed.
“then let me remind you.”
he grabbed euijoo’s face in one of his large hands, rings probably cold on euijoo’s skin, and then joined their lips together.
you watched in awe at the way their lips seems to just melt into each other’s, how it seemed so natural the way they kissed, like they’d been doing it for years.
after a moment, ej brought his hand up and wrapped it around the back of nicholas’s neck, pulling him in even closer. at that, nicholas moaned into ej’s mouth.
you caught a sliver of one of their tongues entering the other one’s mouth, unable to figure out who’s was who’s. but then it became a battle of both their tongues, rubbing and intertwining with each other.
you squeezed your legs together, already feeing yourself getting worked up just from the sight of them kissing. all you wanted to do was to somehow get between them, to be in on their messy makeout.
euijoo pulled back a bit, glancing over at you to check on you and gauge how you were taking it so far. your eyes were blown out wide, lips glossy from how many times you’d licked them in the past few minutes.
“still doing okay?” he asked you, his torso pressed against nicholas’s.
“are you kidding?” nicholas said with a laugh. “look at her. she’s better than okay.”
ej noticed it but didn’t want to say anything so he didn’t embarrass you. it was obvious that them making out had made your horny, though. your thighs pressed together and your bright red cheeks were evidence enough.
he smiled a little.
“you can touch yourself if you want,” he offered.
that was all he said before he faced nicholas again and pressed their lips back together. you released a drawn out sigh, watching your boyfriend and his best friend devour each other.
you wanted to touch yourself, you really did, but it was nerve wracking to think about doing so in front of nicholas. he’d never see you in that kind of way, and you weren’t sure what he’d think.
regardless, he was occupied in something—someone—else, so you took the opportunity to slowly slide your hand down your body and into your pants.
straight past your panties, your fingertips brushed over your clit. you gasped, feeling how wet you already were, staring to rub the puffy bud in little circles.
nicholas’s hands trailed down euijoo’s body, desperately rubbing up and down his sides, pushing the fabric of his t-shirt up until it was bunched up around his shoulders. they pulled apart for a moment so ej could lose the shirt entirely.
nicholas’s eyes drank in the sight of ej’s bare torso, his hands gripping and rubbing your boyfriend’s supple skin.
“fuck, look at your little fucking waist,” nicholas practically growled against ej’s mouth. “you’re so sexy, juju.”
ej smiled and leaned back in, pressing his now bare torso against nicho’s as their lips intertwined once again. nicholas held ej’s waist as he slid his tongue back into his mouth, rubbing it against ej’s.
you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, your fingers gliding further down your soaked pussy. you dragged them down your folds and back up, spreading your arousal and staring at the two men unashamed, biting your lower lip.
ej pulled back from the kiss to look over at you again.
“why don’t you take some clothes off, baby?” he suggested in that sickeningly sweet voice of his.
you immediately obliged, sliding your hand out of your pants to take your shirt and bra off, all while maintaining deep eye contact with him. you almost didn’t notice nicholas stripping as well, revealing his toned abdomen.
you unbuttoned your pants and got rid of them, left in nothing but your drenched underwear. both of the men eyed you hungrily, but ej was the first to make a move. he detached himself from nicholas and made his way up the bed over to you, finally kissing you instead.
you tangled your fingers in caramel-colored hair, moaning into his mouth. he kissed you slowly, sweetly, carefully, and you wondered if it was the same way he kissed nicholas.
meanwhile, nicholas rid himself of his pants, left in nothing but his boxers. he stared as you and ej kissed, watched the way your legs quivered and spread. there was a patch of wetness on your thin panties, and it had nicholas’s cock twitching.
“do you want him to touch you?” ej asked, briefly pulling back from your lips.
you glanced over at nicholas, feeling a wave of insecurity and intimidation wash over you at the way he was staring with that hard look on his face.
“i-i—”
“he won’t bite,” ej assured you, glancing behind his shoulder at nicholas. “even if it looks like he will.”
nicholas fixed his expression, trying his best to look less threatening for your sake.
“you’re soaked,” he commented, inching his way over to you and euijoo. “let me take these off you, yeah?”
silently, you nodded, gasping when his cold, ringed fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. you tried not to think too hard about it—the fact that you were now completely naked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, your bare cunt on full display for him.
sensing your horror, ej leaned back in and kissed you, distracting you from your embarrassment.
you gasped into his mouth when you felt nicholas’s fingers swipe up the length of your pussy, gathering your excess of arousal. he spread the wetness around, and his fingers prodded at your entrance. just when you thought he was going to slide them in, he dragged them back up and pressed down on your clit instead.
you whimpered into ej’s mouth, humping your hips up into the air desperately. it made nicholas chuckle, and only aggravated you.
“she’s so sensitive,” he mumbled, slowly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers. “you’re just as fun to play with as ej.”
ej hummed before he pulled apart from your lips, glancing down at where nicholas’s hand was rubbing you.
“don’t tease her,” he scolded. “she’s been good, you can fuck her with your fingers.”
you gulped, surprised to see your boyfriend take such authority when he was normally more submissive leaning. even nicholas looked surprised for a moment to be told what to do, but nonetheless, he obliged.
slowly and gently, he slid his fingers inside your pussy, getting you nice and stretched out. you cried out, gripping the bedsheet as your walls clamped around his slender fingers.
“fuck,” nicholas mumbled. “she’s so warm ‘n wet.”
ej began peppering kisses down your jawline and to your neck, and you felt like you were in heaven. the soft suction of his lips on your neck and nicholas’s lengthy fingers pumping in and out of you was euphoric. you didn’t think it could get better until you felt another hand on your pussy—euijoo’s.
while nicholas was finger fucking you, ej began to slowly rub your clit in circles, and your eyes rolled back into your head.
“oh my god,” you moaned, not even knowing what to do with yourself because it felt so good.
“is that good, baby?” ej asked you.
“yes, euijoo,” you choked out, clenching around nicho’s fingers. “it’s so fucking good.”
he smiled against your neck, continuing to kiss his way down until he made it to your chest. he wrapped his lips around one of your erect nipples and began suckling softly on the bud, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure and relaxation.
you couldn’t believe this was happening—you had two of the sexiest men you’d ever seen in your life pleasing you at the same exact time. ej rubbing your clit and sucking your nipples, and nicholas fingering you so deep that you were practically wetting the bed with your arousal.
suddenly, taking advantage of the fact that your lips were free now, nicholas brought his face to yours and kissed you—for real this time. his lips on yours and the way he kissed you was nothing like the way ej kissed you. nicholas was rougher, more intense. his tongue found its way into your mouth quickly, and you had to match his pace, so you rubbed your own tongue against his, exchanging saliva.
you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tugging on ej’s hair as he tugged your nipple between his teeth. you were practically riding both their hands, inching yourself closer and closer to your high. you needed it desperately, and you couldn’t hide it from them.
“you gonna cum, baby?” ej asked, gliding his tongue around your nipple.
all you could do was nod into nicholas’s mouth, unable to speak even if you weren’t kissing him. he plunged his fingers as deep as they could go inside of you, and your legs clamped around both their hands.
“fuck!” you yelped, breaking apart from the kiss. “shit, nghhh—i’m cumming!”
you threw your head back, releasing a strained moan as your climax washed over you. you tugged your boyfriends hair, tightening around their fingers as the knot in your stomach undid itself.
“fuck, that’s it,” nicholas cooed, watching the way your legs twitched as you started to come down. “so fucking pretty when you cum.”
he pulled his fingers out of you, and ej detached from your nipple. they were both sat on either side of you, looking down at you. ej carefully caressed your tummy, lulling you back down from the intensity of your orgasm.
“you’re so hard,” nicholas suddenly said, motioning to ej’s cock, straining obviously in his pants.
suddenly, nicholas was reaching over you to plant his palm against ej’s covered length, feeling it pulsate under his hand.
“fuck,” ej hissed, instinctively jutting his hips forward, pressing his cock further into nicho’s grasp.
nicholas smirked at his best friend’s reaction, squeezing ej’s length over the fabric of his sweatpants. he dragged his hand back and forth, but when he decided that wasn’t enough, he tugged on the waistband and tugged them down enough for ej’s length to spring free.
at the sight of your boyfriend’s dick drooling with pre cum, you eagerly sat up on your knees and positioned yourself in front of him. ej looked down at you tenderly, bringing his hand to the back of your head to guide your mouth onto his length.
you took him well like you always did, kitten licking up the precum from his tip before taking the rest of his length into your mouth.
ej sighed in pleasure, dropping his head back. you glanced up, only to find nicholas leaning forward and planting a firm kiss to ej’s neck.
“fuck,” ej groaned, bringing his other hand to the back of nicho’s neck.
it was hard to keep your eyes open with the tip of his long cock gagging you when it hit the back of your throat every few seconds, but you refused to miss what was occurring in front of you. nicholas sucking hickeys into ej’s neck was a beautiful sight, and you could feel yourself getting worked up all over again.
and it only got better when you watched ej’s hand carefully drag down the front of nicho’s torso, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. they made eye contact, seemingly exchanging information telepathically, and then ej was slipping his hand into the other’s boxers.
“oh shit,” nicholas moaned as ej began stroking him slowly. “fuck—that’s good.”
you watched the bump of ej’s hand moving in nicholas’s boxers, so entranced by the sight that you found yourself slacking on the blowjob you were giving.
“mmm, keep going, baby,” ej urged, drawing you back in with that coaxing voice of his.
you turned your attention back to him, pushing him as deep into your throat as you could go. you clenched your eyes shut in discomfort, hollowing out your cheeks.
you deep-throated him for a few minutes before he let you up for a much needed breather. when your eyes reopened, you found that nicholas’s boxers were to his knees and ej’s hand was pumping his thick cock in a rapid motion.
again, you sat back and watched in awe. the chemistry they had, the way they both seemed to know what the other one liked, left you dumbfounded. you truly began to question if this wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this with each other.
“finish him off,” ej suddenly said to you, and your eyes widened.
“what about you?” you asked, glancing over at his long cock, standing straight up against his abs from how hard he was.
“don’t worry about me right now,” he retorted. “wanna see you take nicho, okay? wanna see you swallow everything he gives you. can you do that, pretty girl?”
you gulped with nerves, but nodded nonetheless. it was always hard to say no to ej, not that you wanted to.
you sat yourself on your knees in front of nicholas, face to face with his cock. a long vein ran all the way up from the bottom to the top, and so you traced it with your tongue before wrapping your lips around his bulbous tip.
“holy shit,” nicholas moaned, his hand finding the back of your head—not to push you, but to keep it firmly rested there. “that’s it, that’s a good girl.”
his words practically made you purr, your pussy nearly dripping onto the bed. you were so horny despite having cum all ready, but you needed more.
luckily, your boyfriend sensed that. before you knew it, ej was spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. and then, from the back, he licked a firm, electrifying stripe up from your hole to your clit, a lick so pleasurable that you whimpered around nicholas’s cock, jolting in delight.
“oh, yeah,” nicholas muttered. “fuck—is that good? you like getting your pussy eaten while you’re sucking me off?”
you eagerly nodded your head, your mouth stuffed too full to speak. although, you figured that even if your mouth wasn’t full, you still wouldn’t have been able to say anything. you were so fucked out, already dumb and you hadn’t even gotten fucked yet.
ej drank your arousal and licked your pussy up and down, circling the tip of his tongue against your puffy clit. you didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you opted for planting them on nicholas’s sharp hips, which gave you the leverage to suck him even deeper into your mouth.
your moans vibrated around his length, and he fucked his hips forward, making you gag when he hit the back of your throat.
“‘m fucking close,” he warned, tugging on your strands of hair.
you blinked up at him, your cunt tightening around euijoo’s tongue in excitement. just the thought of nicholas cumming was enough to make you feel like you could cum soon too.
he fucked his cock in and out of your throat a couple of more times before tensing, and then you felt the first string of hot, salty cum, hitting your tongue. you swallowed it and continued to do so with the ropes of it that followed, giving both him and ej what they wanted.
and nicholas looked so good when he came—his face scrunched up, releasing an array of beautiful sounds, abs tight and glistening with sweat—that suddenly, you felt like you were going to release all over euijoo’s face.
“e-ej!” you cried out, pushing your hips back into his face. “oh god, right there!”
his tongue rapidly flicked up and down, and suddenly, you, too, were cumming. you released all over his face, drenching him with your wetness, and he slurped it all up, licking your cunt clean.
you collapsed flat on your back against the bed when you were done cumming, looking up at the two men tiredly.
“wake up,” euijoo said, spreading your legs and making room for himself between them. “i haven’t cum yet, baby.”
your body was pliant from you sleepy you were, making it easy for nicholas to pick you up and place you on his lap, your back pressed to his sweaty chest. you put your feet on the tops of his thighs, spreading your legs and revealing your glistening pussy to ej.
you leaned back against nicho’s chest, steadying your breathing as ej lined himself up and nudged in until just his tip was inside you. with how wet you were, it wasn’t going to be hard for him to get you adjusted to his size.
as he slid inch by inch, nicholas wrapped one hand around your waist and brought it down to rub your clit. he used the other one to slide up your stomach and land on your breast, tweaking your hard nipple.
you felt like you were on another dimension, sandwiched between these two men, both of them stimulating every part of you. you felt so good, you couldn’t even do or say anything except lay there and take what they were giving you.
ej bottomed out and was quick to start thrusting, fucking you at a consistent pace from the start.
“is it good, baby?” nicholas asked in your ear, kissing just below it. “use your words.”
“it’s so f-fucking good,” you cried out, your body rocking back into his chest every time ej thrusted into you.
“you’re so pretty,” ej whispered, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. “such a sweet thing letting us play with you like this.”
you turned your head to the side and met nicholas’s lips, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth. you rubbed your tongues together, moaning pathetically and tiredly as ej fucked you hard and deep, his tip quickly finding your g-spot.
“mmmmph, oh my god,” you mumbled against nicholas’s mouth. “it feels so good.”
“i know,” nicholas cooed, pinching your nipples between his fingers. “i know.”
ej stared down at you in awe, perched on his best friend’s lap, making out with him. it was such an outrageously hot sight that he wanted to take a picture, and that way he’d never forget it.
but he was too close. he couldn’t think about stopping now, not when his orgasm was rapidly approaching. you could tell, too, based on his hips were moving fluidly, his thrusting losing its rhythm.
“cum again for me,” he commanded.
you looked up at him with big, watery eyes.
“can’t,” you whimpered out.
“hey, yes you can,” nicholas cooed, pressing his fingers firmly onto your clit. “you can do it. be good and cum for us, okay?”
you tossed your head back against his shoulder, and ej couldn’t resist. with your neck exposed like that, he felt like a magnet the way his hand immediately reached out to wrap around it. he squeezed just slightly, applying only a touch of pressure, but he knew it was just what you needed to get you to the brink of orgasm.
you clenched around him, legs shaking and threatening to close, but he kept them open. he thrusted, once, twice, three more times and then abruptly stopped, buried to the hilt inside of you.
you came with a silent, choked moan, your entire body twitching in nicholas’s lap. ej stuffed you full with his warm, sticky load, panting like he’d just run a marathon.
he slowly thrusted, riding and milking out both your orgasms, fucking his cum deep inside of you, where it belonged.
you were a mess. all three of you were, but you especially because—and you hadn’t realized it—but nicholas had cum against just from his cock rubbing against your back a few times. you were covered in cum from the inside out.
ej pulled out and helped you off nicholas’s lap. the three of your lay beside each other, practically melting into the sheets.
for a good ten minutes, there was silence. you were dozing off and only awakened when you felt a wetness on your skin.
you opened your eyes and realized the wetness was from ej wiping you off with a damp towel.
“you okay?” he asked, leaning down to kiss you softly on the forehead.
“mmm, yeah,” you answered tiredly.
nicholas was off the bed now, cleaning himself off and redressing. you realized, even in your tired state, that you didn’t want him to go. you didn’t like how neither them were laying beside you anymore.
“wait,” you called out weakly, getting nicholas’s attention. “can you guys just…get back in bed? can we just go to sleep together?”
ej and nicholas exchanged a glance.
“both of us?” nicholas asked.
“yeah,” you said. “if that’s okay.”
nicholas, who’d just put his shirt back on, immediately took it back off and crawled back into bed with you.
“more than okay,” he assured, kissing your cheek.
ej chuckled and climbed back into bed on the other side of you, pulling you into his chest.
“i could get used to this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.
and you could. you felt safe with both men there on either side of you. you thought that you didn’t want this to be just a one time thing.
“yeah,” ej agreed. “me too.”
the three of you fell asleep then, an end to a night that none of you expected.
synopsis : nicholas wang was the vice captain for the basketball team. it just so happens that he’s also been your roommate for years now, but yet, the two of you have never been particularly close. that was, until nicholas arrives to your shared apartment with bruises on his face, you demand for an explanation only for him to tell you that he was defending you against your ex-boyfriend who cheated on you, aka his teammate.
warnings && tags : smut. mdni. porn w plot. oral sex (f!receiving). p in v. unprotected sex (don’t). cumming inside (no!). small mention of cheating (ex). pet names. hair pulling. breeding kink (if you squint). cum denial. cumeating. overstimulation. degradation. cockwarming. switch!nico (i think). making out (lots). belly bulge. squirting (f). creampie. manhandling. slight praise kink. hickeys.
wc: 6.8k — (6825)
dreemxz note : this is my first time writing smut (EVER). sorry if this isn’t good or like accurate (#virgin sorry guys). please let me know if i miss any tags so i can correct it. proof read but there may be errors (ignore them pls)
You finally finished the project your professor assigned two days ago–you hated his class. He’d treat his class like a boot camp. In time you became starved so here you were, scrolling through your notes; RECIPES on the notes app. You decided to make some pasta–with chicken of course–at first you debated only making some for yourself but with a quick glance at the clock, you realized that it was around the time your roommate came home. Nicholas Wang.
You and Nicholas didn’t get along much, you’d rarely see him in the 2-bedroom apartment you both shared, and when you did, you both didn’t talk much. But since you were feeling kind today, you added more penne pasta to the boiling water in the pot. The seasonings were perfectly lined up in front of you as you cut the chicken breast into small pieces. Your eyebrows furrowed in deep focus, careful not to cut yourself with the big kitchen knife. Right after you finished cutting the pieces you heard the sound of numbers being entered into the digital keypad.
Your head lifts the same moment Nicholas steps into your view. From where you stood you could see the tiredness in his body, the subtle beard growing from days of not shaving. He didn’t notice you at first but when he did he gave you an awkward smile. “Hey, making pasta, you want some?”
Nicholas gives you a tight smile and nods. You nod slightly at him before he walks past the kitchen and toward his room. You watch him walk away, the black tee hugging all of his muscles, the grey shorts decorated with his football team’s logo–a wolf.
Nicholas was the vice captain of the basketball team. He was scouted alongside your friend Jo. You clear your throat and shift your attention back to your dinner. You seasoned the chicken and carefully put it into the pot. You grabbed the lid and covered the pot, reaching for your phone, you set a timer for ten minutes, then you’d check up on it.
You began to scroll through your notifications. A couple of texts from your friends asking if you wanted to bake with her tomorrow. You responded with a simple yes and went to Instagram, liking a couple of stories and commenting on Fuma’s new hiking post. You giggled at Maki’s enthusiasm: “YEAH BROOOOOO AYEEEEEE” “TS IS SO FIRE” “COULD NEVER BE ME.” You knew Fuma would no doubt be embarrassed but appreciated by his friend's comments.
“FUCK!” The sudden manly yell made you jump out of your skin, giving the food a side glance, making sure it was cooking fine, you hurried toward the direction of his room. The thought of knocking didn’t even cross your mind as you swung the door open.
“Are you–” You paused your sentence, too stunned to speak. In front of you was Nicholas leaning against his dresser, his head thrown back slightly, panting. But now his full, undivided attention fell on you. He wasn’t just against his dresser. He was almost fully unclothed. The only piece of clothing was a pair of black Calvin Klein boxers that hung way too low.
You swallowed, a thick lump of spit traveled back down your throat, and your eyes trailed down his figure unintentionally. There have been many times when you have seen Nicholas walking around aimlessly with just a towel hung loose on his waist, but this sight in front of you made you hungry.
He straightened up, causing you to snap your eyes back to his and lock eye contact with him. You refused to look anywhere else. You cleared your throat. “Hm–Are you–Are you okay? I heard your yell.”
Nicholas takes a second to respond, “Uh, yeah, sorry to scare you. I just–” He turns his body toward you, giving you a full view of his defined abs. You refused. You couldn’t move your eyes anywhere other than his face, afraid of doing something you’d regret. “I’m frustrated.” You beckoned him to continue. “The coach decided to bench me for two entire games.”
“What?”
He nods, “Yeah, uh,” Nicholas scratches above his eyebrow, “I kind of got into it with Sunghoon.” Ah, him. You swallow hard at the mention of him.
Curiously, you ask, “Why?” Be careful to approach him with the question as you cross your arms in front of him. You look at his face for a second, and that’s when you notice he has a cut on his lip and his eye is sort of red. You gasp, immediately throwing yourself his way and cupping his face with your cold hands.
Nicholas winces at the coolness, but also the pressure. He hisses, and you remove your hands.
“Shit, Nico. What the fuck did he say? Did he say anything about you or the gro–” Before you could finish your sentence, he interrupted you.
“You. He brought you up.” You took a step back, arms flopping to your sides.
Sunghoon Park was your ex-boyfriend for two years. You thought you two were endgame–a wedding, a house, and kids were all in your books. But, to him, your relationship was a silly game. For an entire year, he made you out to be a fool and made you believe he truly was the one for you.
Except he made it clear the day you had to stay out late in the campus library.
You had finished earlier than expected, and as you walked back to your dorm, you saw him hand in hand with another girl. Then you watched as he leaned down not just to peck her lips–no, he gripped her waist, like he did to you, put her hair behind her ear, as he did with you, and he kissed her with desperation–like he couldn’t live without her. All like he preached to you.
You blink up at him. “The fuck?”
Nicholas looked down at you with remorseful eyes. “Yeah, asshole decided to bring you up out of nowhere.”
You gulp, crossing your arms. “What did he say?”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Asshole’s like him can never keep their mouths closed.”
You huffed, “You’d think I would be the one to still talk about him, but it seems he’s still butthurt I did it in front of the entire team.” You shift your weight from one foot to another, completely forgetting that Nicholas was almost naked in front of you.
Without thinking, you reached up and lightly touched the corner of his lips. His head jerked back instinctively with a wince. “Shit, sorry. Let me help you.” Nicholas immediately shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. I can do it myself. But I have to take a quick shower first, so…” Nicholas now seemed aware that he was just standing in his boxers. “If you’ll excuse me…”
You cleared your throat, rapidly blinking, “right, sorry. I’ll be in the kitchen…if you need me.” You don’t let your eyes leave him until you’re out of the room.
You make it three steps down the hall before your composure cracks.
“Get it together,” you mutter under your breath, pressing your palm briefly to your forehead like that’ll reset your brain. It doesn’t. You inhale sharply and push into the kitchen, immediately greeted by the aggressive sizzle of your pot. “Oh shit.”
You rush to the stove and turn down the fire, lifting the lid completely to examine the food. A cloud of steam hits your face as you grab a utensil to stir the food. Once everything is fine, you let out a big sigh, gripping the counter as if it’d run away from you.
“This is Nicholas,” you whisper. “You barely talk. He’s just your roommate. That’s it.” Except it doesn’t feel like just that anymore. He defended you even if you weren’t close. He probably left your ex in a worse condition than he was in.
The sound of the shower turning on echoes faintly from down the hall, but that makes everything worse.
You busy yourself quickly, draining the pasta, seasoning the chicken again, tossing everything together, as if muscle memory can outrun your thoughts. By the time you’re done, you’ve plated two bowls without even realizing it.
You move them towards the kitchen table and set them up. “Not gonna lie… it smells really good out here.” Your grip on the bowls tightens before you turn around.
Nicholas stands there, hair damp, a loose gray shirt clinging slightly to his shoulders, fresh sweats sitting low on his hips. You gulp and look away, tugging at your collar aggressively.
“Thanks. But now eat so I can clean your wounds.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the two of you ate in silence. There was an unspoken tension that you could both feel. You weren’t exactly sure what it was, but it was there.
Nicholas had long finished his food, just minutes before you did. Once your fork hit the bowl, he sprang up and took the bowl before you could say anything.
You were still chewing your food when he did that, so you immediately coughed as you forced the food. “What the hell? You scared the shit out of me.” He ignores you. He just takes your bowl like it’s the most normal thing in the world and walks it over to the sink, stacking it with his.
“You eat slow,” he mutters, turning on the faucet.
You scoff, grabbing your cup and taking a quick sip to recover. “Or maybe you eat like someone’s gonna steal your food.” A quiet huff leaves him.
The water runs as he rinses the bowls, his back facing you. The gray shirt clings more now around his shoulders, damp in places, and you hate that your eyes linger for even a second longer than they should.
You look away. Again.
Once he’s finished, you don’t give him time to argue as you take his hands and lead him into your room, heading straight for your bathroom.
He’d been here once or twice, the nights you’ve come home absolutely hammered after a night out at the club, you had stumbled your way inside the apartment, and he had managed to drag you to your room in the dead of night. But seeing it during dawn felt different.
Even if he’d been your roommate for a long time, he had to admit, he didn’t know you that well. You get first aid things from your cabinets before you turn over to look at him.
“Come,” you say, sitting on the bathroom counter. “I said I’d clean your wounds.”
Nicholas glances over at you. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” you cut him off, “Sit down.”
There’s a brief pause before he listens to you and awkwardly sits on the counter. He watches as you fiddle the cap to the ointment, and the first aid kid you set it down on the counter next to him, opening it with more focus than necessary. You slowly start to apply stuff to his lips. Your hands are colder than usual, Nicholas hisses as your hand cups his cheek. “Don’t flinch,” you mumble.
“I didn’t flinch,” he replies.
You don’t look up from his lips as you reply, “You literally hissed.”
“Because your hands were freezing.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing.
You roll your eyes, scooting closer. In correspondence, Nicholas spreads his legs wider, and you tilt his chin slightly with your fingers. “Yeah, well, deal with it.” You hadn’t realized your position yet. He was on the bathroom counter with you standing between his spread legs, leaving you no space to move freely.
You hadn’t noticed, but he had.
His breath hitched the moment you had scooted closer to get the ointment on, his eyes narrowing down past your face, accidentally falling on your breasts. The way you were leaning into him and giving him the perfect angle to look into the valley of your breasts made his heart jump.
He quickly looked away, even if his heart was telling him no.
Your touch is lighter now—more careful—as you dab at the cut on his eyebrow with antiseptic. He tenses a little, but stays still, his eyes fixed somewhere on your face.
You try not to notice. You really try, but it’s hard when he’s this close.
When you can feel his breath, steady but heavier than usual. Every time your fingers brush his skin, something in your chest reacts like it shouldn’t. “You could’ve just ignored him, now you’re going to have a black eye and a busted lip,” you say quietly, still focused on his eyebrow.
Nicholas scoffs softly. “Yeah, and let him keep talking?”
You frown slightly. “I don’t care what he says.”
“I do.” The words come out quicker than intended. When Nicholas realizes this, his eyes widen, but they falter when you pause and stare at him. Your hand stills for half a second before you continue, slower now, and look away.
“…Why?” You don’t look at him when you ask.
But you feel it, the way his gaze settles on you again, deeper.
“You already asked me that,” he says.
“And you didn’t answer.” Your wrist is gently caught, and you freeze at the touch. Nicholas’s hand isn’t tight. He’s not forcing anything. Just… holding you there, enough to stop your movement.
You finally look up. He’s already looking at you. “I don’t like the way he talked about you,” he says, quieter now. “Like you were just… something he could mess with and walk away from.”
Your chest tightens. “He doesn’t get to do that, especially when he cheated and lied to you.” Your lips part slightly, but nothing comes out.
“Nico…” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you expect.
His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go completely; instead, his free hand tests the waters. He brings it to your waist, and he watches as you inhale and look down at his hand. Then, it slowly comes down to your hip where he begins to circle your clothes skin with his thumb.
“You deserve better than that,” he adds. Nicholas stares down at you with hooded eyes. His eyes have suddenly switched, turning from a friendly stare to something you couldn’t quite place.
Your heart stutters, but you try to laugh it off, to lighten it, to push it somewhere safer. “You barely even talk to me, and suddenly you’re—what—my personal bodyguard?”
A small smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that. I could be, if you really wanted me to.”
You shake your head, but there’s no real bite in it. “You’re stupid.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Probably.” Neither of you moves.
Your hand is still in his, and your other hand is still hovering near his face. You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re fine now. It’s just a small cut.”
“Mm,” he hums, but he doesn’t move back, doesn’t let go of your waist or your hand. You should move away and push him off of you. You should, but you don’t. Instead, you stay right there, caught in the quiet, in the warmth of his hand around your wrist, in the way he’s looking at you like he’s trying to figure something out.
You can feel his breath on your face as you flutter your lashes up to him. “Fuck,” he whispers, shaking his head as he finally tears his gaze off of you and looks down.
Your voice barely comes out as a whisper, “What?”
Nicholas chuckles, his shoulders jerking, “You make me feel insane.”
Your brows knit together, your heart thudding harder at the way he says it. “How?” you ask, quieter now.
He exhales slowly, his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to pull away, but you don’t. His hand is still warm against your skin, his thumb still brushing slow, absent circles against your hip like he forgot it was even there.
“Because I’m trying really hard,” he mutters, eyes dropping for a second before lifting back to yours, “to not do something I might regret.”
Your breath catches.
The air shifts.
“What would you regret?” you ask, even though part of you already knows.
His jaw tightens slightly. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up. “You really wanna ask me that right now?” he says, voice lower now, rougher.
You don’t say anything. His hand slides a little firmer against your hip, grounding you in place. His other hand finally lets go of your wrist, but only so it can come up, fingers brushing lightly along your jaw before settling just under your chin.
Your breath hitches.
“Nico…” you whisper, but it comes out like a small whimper. This makes Nicholas’ eyes darken. He never knew such noise could get him this excited.
His thumb tilts your chin just slightly upward.
“Last chance,” he murmurs.
You stare into his eyes as you try to puzzle this, one moment you were just innocently cleaning his wounds, and the next, you’re leaning.
Both of your lips clash like oceans, with desperation and lust. The thumb that had been resting on your chin wanders over to your neck, where he wraps his entire hand around it.
Your lips move on their own, chasing the high you didn’t know you desperately needed.
A moan escapes your mouth as Nicholas gives your neck a small squeeze. The action caused your mouth to open slightly, but it was enough for him to slip his tongue inside.
His other hand comes to your head, cradling it and digging his fingers in your hair with desperation.
The kiss started to get messier, with his tongue moving against your own, and you felt like you could no longer breathe. With a small push, you disconnected yourself from him, heavy breathing.
His pupils were dilated and filled with hunger, just like yours.
No words were needed to communicate what you both needed next. Nicholas hopped off the counter, completely disregarding the small kit next to him, ignoring how much his face was hurting. All he wanted was to ruin you.
He towered over you, but he suddenly crouched, picking you up and making you lock your legs around his waist.
Luckily, the door to the bathroom had been open, making it easier for him to move into your room, all while he nuzzled his head in your neck, giving you light but sloppy kisses, marking you up.
“Nico…” the more you said his name, the more he wanted to ruin you.
He carefully set you down on your bed, pushing himself up to hover just above you. The gold chain he always wore was peaking out from his neckline until it slipped, dangling over your face.
“Are you sure about this?”
You had never felt more annoyed than now. With a roll of your eyes, you replied, “Just fuck me already.” You pulled him by the chain and kissed him harshly.
He let out a whimper of surprise. You could feel him smirk into the kiss.
Desperate, you put your hands on his chest and flipped him onto his back, placing your legs on either side and locking him in place. Your pussy pulsed as you sat directly on top of his bulge. You could feel the thickness and length, and god, he was huge.
You quickly worked your way out of the shirt you had on, leaving you in just your lacy white bra that covered practically nothing.
Your tits were practically spilling out of the cups. Nico’s eyes automatically fell on them. His mouth watered at the sight. He watched as you leaned over to the bedside table and fished for something. A condom, he assumed.
He wasn’t paying much attention to what you were looking for; his hands came up to your tits like magnets, latching onto them and just holding them. He didn’t massage or squeeze; he just held them there like he couldn’t believe it.
Countless times had he seen you in a sports bra and those tiny shorts he loved, the ones that always rode up your thighs, exposing your bottom. But he’d never seen you in this light, not this close.
When you finally found what you were looking for, a condom, you held it up. He spoke before you could. “Those won’t fit.” He said.
Your eyes widened, “What?”
He sat up, rubbing your skin. “Baby, the condom is too small.”
You chewed your lip as you glanced at the condom and back at him. The heat radiating between you two was hot. “Fuck,” you said.
“It’s okay, we’re already here, cmon, I’ll just eat you out.” As good as the offer sounded, you needed him in you.
You tossed the condom to the side, and his gaze followed. “What are you—“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as you pressed yourself further down and rolled your hips. The motion made you both hiss.
He was already so sensitive, the precum had already gathered at the tip, without looking at it, he knew the tip was red and sensitive. “Ahh, fuck, don’t do that.”
You tilted your head, rolling your hips once more, “Why? Scared?” The action made you suppress a moan; you bit your lip as you looked into his eyes.
His gaze darkened, “Y/n.” He warned, squeezing the side of your hips.
“Relax, let me ask you this: have you been tested recently?”
He nods with quickness, “Yes, I’m clean, through and through.” You hummed, content at the response.
“And how long have you been wanting to fuck me raw?” You didn’t get a proper answer as he flipped you onto your back. The action made you yell and let out a laugh. But he wasn’t laughing.
He gestured for you to lift your legs, “Can I?” You rolled your eyes, even though he was about to fuck you raw for the first time, he just had to be a gentleman.
“Yes,” You hadn’t finished the word before he pulled your shorts, along with your laced panties, down your legs. He tossed them to the side, not caring where in the room they landed.
Nicholas was entranced. The sight before him was one for sore eyes. “Holy shit, why have you been hiding this from me?” Nicholas lowers himself until he is eye level with your glistening pussy.
You attempted to close your legs, but that just made him push your legs further, giving him a better view and access.
He leaned in, nuzzling his head just close enough where his tongue flattens against your dripping sex. His tongue gives you one clean stroke, making your stomach flutter, and you flinch. “Oh fuck,” you whimper. Nico repeats the action, a clean stroke from where juices were threatening to spill, up to your swollen and sensitive clit.
He rests his hands on your inner thighs, spreading them further and wider apart for his convenience. You try not to get embarrassed by the vulgar sounds coming from the lower half of your body.
You hear the way your pussy squelches and plaps as the muscle probes your entrance, lapping your juices around. You jerk on instinct, suppressing a moan. Nico notices this and lifts his head, his eyes narrow, sharp, but it’s enough to communicate his thoughts to you.
Weakly, you nod your head in understanding, and with your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his mouth back onto your pussy.
He wastes no time and goes back to devouring. You lay there, your chest heaving up and down like you’d just sprint miles, “Ahh.. fuck, right there!” You grip his hair, tugging it slightly.
Nico groans from the action, which causes a vibration to travel across your pussy, edging you closer. Nico can tell you’re at the brink of cumming.
You miss the way he smirked against your sex, but it’s not long before you feel his tongue detach from your entrance and move higher up to your deprived clit.
Nicholas uses two fingers to spread your entrance wide. He smears the juices further, coating his fingers in your slick until he pushes one in.
Your back arches as you feel it hit deep into your gummy walls, “Fuck!” Nico retracts his finger until just the very tip is inside before he pushes it back in, stretching you open.
Your other hand comes up to your clothed tit, sticking your hand inside your bra, pinching and twisting your sensitive nipple.
Nicholas’ attention shifts to your tits for a second, watching as you add more to your pleasure. He takes this as a chance to insert a second finger, really stretching you out. “Oh! Mmm… fuck! Right there! Shit!”
He detaches his mouth from your swollen clit for a second, his hungry eyes looking at you. “Tight little pussy, tastes so sweet…” he says out of breath. His mouth makes an ‘O’ shape as he scissors his fingers in and out of your gushing pussy.
By now, your comforter is soaked, but so is his face and hands. He won’t complain, though, ever. “Can’t believe I’ve never had a taste before. Always teasing me,” he lowers his mouth, kissing your inner thighs, leaving wet, sloppy, open-mouth kiss trails.
“Wearing those tight, pajama shorts that covered nothing, prancing around the kitchen like a dirty whore,” Nicholas scoffs, speeding up his movements. You felt the way his fingers hit the spot that made your eyes roll back and your back arch.
You feel that knot in your stomach, the same one you’d feel when you’d finger yourself or fuck yourself with a toy. “Mmm, ‘m so close,” you say, back arching.
“Yeah?” He asks, his movements begin to speed up; he’s determined to make you finish.
You moan, “Fuck, oh shit… ngh, keep going. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You knead your tit with your entire hand now, while the other remains in Nicholas’ hair. You pull at his hair slightly as the familiar coil starts to near.
Nicholas watches carefully as you throw your head back, your mouth opens wide as you gasp for air, “Oh–Oh my…god! Fuck– right there, please, please, let me come.” But it’s then that a flip switches in his head.
You’re unaware of the sudden shift. Only when his fingers leave your aching hole do you wince and whine. “Wha—“ your eyes shot wide open in disbelief and disappointment. You see the sneaky smirk on Nico’s face as he sits up. He maintains eye contact as he brings the two fingers that were inside of you, and puts them in his mouth.
He hums, purrs, at how sweet you tasted. He slurps the juices on his fingers like a lollipop. “Mmm, so sweet.” He taunts.
You sit up, and at the same time, you feel how sticky your inner thighs and pussy were. “What the hell, I was close. Too close.”
Nicholas laughs, but there’s something serious about it. “Changed my mind. Did you think I was going to let you cum just like that? I don’t think sluts like you deserve to cum, do you think bouncing around, with those thin, see-through tank tops wasn’t gonna catch my attention?” His eyes fall on your exposed tits.
“So perfect…” he says to no one in particular. Nicholas leans in just enough to catch your lips in a deep, quick kiss. You kiss him back with desire, arching yourself to him, your front pressing up against his own. You moaned as you felt your covered, hard nipples brush his shirt.
“Take it off,” you quickly unclasp your bra. You watch as he pulls his gray tee over his head, exposing his hard, toned abs.
He sees you swallow thick at the sight. “I’m all yours,” he says, beginning to lower his sweatpants, but your hand shoots out before he continues.
Puzzled, he furrows his eyebrows, but instead of giving him a verbal response, you flip him. Now the two of you are back to how it was in the beginning. The way you sit on him makes your clit rub on his sweats, on his thick and prominent hard-on.
Nicholas puts his hands on your hips, then they trail back to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he slaps your ass cheek. He bites his lip as he watches you. Your fingers are trailing his lower abdomen like you’re under a spell. He observes the way you bite your lip as your index finger traces his abs down his happy trail.
A finger slips into his boxer waistband. Teasingly, you play with the fabric as you lock eyes with him. He groans, both impatient and under tension. “Please…” Your ears perk up at the desperation in his voice.
“Fuck…Y/N. Stop teasi-” You cut him off by pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. You watch as it springs out, heavy and thick. Your mouth waters at the sight; it slaps against his hard abdomen.
It’s everything one can ask for: the tip, red and swollen, beads of pre-cum falling off, landing on his abdomen. You grasp the base of his cock, watching as his breath hitches at the touch. You lift yourself from his thighs and scoot closer, hovering over his cock.
“Please–please, baby,” his hand tightens at your hip, clawing your sides. You’re sure that was going to bruise later.
You grab his shoulder with one hand as the other guides his cock to your entrance. You feel the way both his pre-cum and yours mix.
Slowly, you begin to sink. A small whimper escapes your lips as you feel the tip of his cock begin to split you open, intruding your insides, “Aah–”. The feeling makes you roll your head back, tightening your grip on his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin.
Nicholas whimpers, hissing at how good you feel. “S…So t-tight. Fuck,”
Both of you moan in sync as you fully bottom out. The tip of his cock kissing the top of your cervix, you could feel the way he twitched inside of you, every vein felt so intrusive and yet so good.
You leaned forward, grasping Nicholas’ face with both of your hands as you placed a rough kiss on his mouth. He didn’t hold back either, placing his hands lower, firmly gripping your bare ass, spreading your cheeks open, and fondling them as he gripped them.
The action made you roll your hip slightly. Nicholas moaned into your mouth, hot and loud. Rocking back and forth, you began to bounce up and down slightly.
Nicholas felt like he was going to cum at any second, the way you clenched around him when you sank on his cock, hissing in pleasure and pain. As you began to bounce up and down, Nicholas couldn’t help but detach his lips from you and attach them to your nipple.
“A-ahh..”
The tip was starting to hit that spot that you knew was gonna make you cum any second, “so b-big, fuck me… fuck… please.” You begged. Nicholas could feel the way your body was starting to slow down, and your bouncing got sloppier to the point where you were just grinding on him.
Taking initiative, he flipped you over on your back whilst remaining inside of you. He pushed your legs up, your heels above your head. But the new angle made you feel everything.
Your glistening pussy was fully exposed to him now. Nicholas looked down to where both of you were connected, and he couldn’t help but pump his cock in once and then twice, watching it slide in and out as it made squelching sounds. A white ring of cum formed at the base of his cock, his eyes traveled back to your face, watching you make fucked out expressions.
He began to pump in and out of your pussy, moaning at the way your tits were bouncing in sync. His hips rolled in desperation. Your gummy walls clenched around him; the stretch in the new position felt brutal.
Nicholas grabbed your hips, snapping them towards his own as he began to rut into you at an unforgivable speed.
“Fuck, fuck, shit baby, feel so good.” He rolls his hips again, letting your legs fall limp, but you quickly lock them around his waist, pulling him closer.
Nicholas buries his face into your neck, sucking on a spot. Marking you as his.
You claw at his back, nails sinking deep into his skin, leaving your own marks on his pale skin. “Fuck, baby, ‘m so close. Harder… p-please.” You’re panting hard at this point, sweat forms at the crown of your forehead, and your hair sticks to your face.
“Oh? You want me to f-fuck you h-harder?” He pants, stumbling over his words as he goes deeper—if that was even possible.
Speechless, you could only nod. Nicholas smirks, his gaze meeting yours, “beg for it.”
“Please, fuck me harder. Make me cum. Please, I n-need you.. so fucking bad…” You babbled. You were so cock drunk, Nicholas chuckled at you.
He pulled out from you, a thin, long string of slick, dragged out as he disconnected himself from you. The milky white string broke apart.
“Since my pretty girl asked for it,” you felt yourself be moved, your face pressed against the softness of your pillow as Nicholas pushed down the middle of your back, arching yourself for him.
Your ass is up as you feel your head being gently pushed further into your pillow. Without a word, you felt his thick cock slide up and down your pussy, collecting your slick before he gave one push, bottoming out fully.
Your hands flew up to clench the sheets, fisting them as you jerked forward, biting your lip in satisfaction.
“Fuck,” Nicholas dragged out, his hand coming to the curve on your back, pressing you down, angling you wider. “Pussy so tight…all for me.” A deep groan left his mouth as he began to move his hips. With each stroke, you felt like he was splitting you open.
“Tight little shit.” His speed began to increase, and the pleasure increased too. “Look at you,” he rasped, his eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside of you, coated with slick. “Such a g-good little s-slut. Should’ve b-begged me to fuck this p-pussy sooner…” His words were enough to make you clench your pussy tighter around him, moaning louder as your hips were trying to meet his own.
“C’mon, come on my cock,” His hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he reached down to where both of you are connected, his pointer finger rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you. “Come for me, wanna feel you squeezing ‘round me.”
You make tiny little noises that make him increase his pace. Nicholas uses his free hand to reach forward, wrapping as much hair as he can around his wrist, pulling your hair back. “Oh fuuuck,”
“Aah—please, Nico… baby, I c-can’t. T-too much… ‘m too close.”
“Hngh, me t-too, perfect little cunt. S-swallowing me whole, so perfect, baby.” You’re on all fours now, your hands on the mattress as you try to balance yourself. Your hair is being pulled back, and you couldn’t help but grind and chase Nicholas’ hips.
His abs are flexing with every desperate rut, with every hectic thrust. “Fuuck, where d-do you want me…?”
You gasped as you suddenly started to feel overstimulated with pleasure. His cock kept rubbing the squishy spot inside, making you gasp for air. “I–Inside, fuck, cum inside p-please.” Nicholas’ eyes widened at the request. He didn’t think you’d say that, but he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t like the idea.
“S-shit, so warm, ‘m gonna fill you up,” Nicholas groans. “N–need to s-see you cum.” In a swift motion, he lets go of your hair and rotates you so your back is on the mattress. His arms cage you in as he lies on top of you, drilling into you. Nicholas lifts his body, leaving a tiny gap between the two of you, before his hand goes down to your abdomen, where he presses down. He feels the bulge where his cock is buried inside of you, unable to resist the moan that escapes his mouth as he feels his own hand pushing down. You moan too; it’s too much for you.
You're blinded with pleasure, and tears are swelling in your eyes. “C-can’t hold i–it.” You feel Nicholas’ faint breath ghosting over your mouth.
You wrap your legs around him, locking him in place as you feel a wave of pleasure crash over you. Your body shakes as the knot in your stomach finally bursts. Nicholas gives you sloppy thrusts, hissing at the way your cunt flutters around him, squeezing him tight.
He leans down to kiss you as he feels his own orgasm approaching. Nicholas keeps thrusting into you even when your high is coming down. You moan against his lips, gasping as his thrusts hit deeper into your sensitive pussy.
By now, your juices are spilling out, coating his thick cock like paint, oozing out of you. “Nico—Can’t. No more.” He doesn’t stop.
“Give it to me, c’mon. Come for me a–again.”
It crashes into you. The feeling like you're a water balloon waiting to explode. You’re already soaking him shamelessly, lolling your tongue out only to have him suck it. He sucks your tongue, kissing you vigorously.
You disconnect from the kiss, a string of saliva drags out. “Fuckfuckfuck—Nico, w-wait! I c-can’t.” He doesn’t stop, not even as you plead to him with tears rolling down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big; he knows he’s overstimulating you. You attempt to push off of you, but he doesn’t budge.
You feel that bubble burst. A thick load of liquid gushes out of your weeping hole; spraying him and your sheets, your eyes widen. “Holy shi– d-did I just p-pee?” You’ve never experienced anything like that, not with your fingers, a toy, not with anybody else.
Nicholas smirks as he feels you squirting all over him, coating his thighs, abdomen, and his cock with your juices.
His cock is bruising your cervix now; it’s ruthless and unforgiving. “Nngh, f-fuck! Comingcomingcomin–” He stills his thrusts, bottoming out completely. Nicholas empties his load into you. A broken sob left your throat as you feel his thick cum paint your walls.
It's warm, so warm. “S-shit. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” Nicholas pleads to nobody in particular, “fuuuckk, still cumming—there’s so much, s-shit.”
Your body relaxes, and so does Nico’s. He’s still, securing his cum into you. You make a small ‘oof’ as Nicholas dumps his whole weight on top of you, spent from fucking into you.
The two of you stay still, with his limp cock still buried in you.
Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath. Nicholas lifts his head off your shoulder, wiping the tears that left your eyes. He leans in to give you a small kiss on your forehead, then your cheek. “It’s okay, you’re good.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his poor attempt to calm you down. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, dumbfounded at your reaction.
You shake your head, “Never thought I’d end up fucking my roommate, much less squirting on him.”
Nicholas peppers your shoulder with light kisses, smiling against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this. You wanna know a secret?” You glance down at him, shaking your head.
Nicholas smirks as he leans up to whisper in your ear. “Jerked off to the thought of you multiple times, including just a few minutes ago.” He pulls back and watches as you look at him speechless.
“W-what?”
Your mouth hangs open, but you pause as you feel his limp cock start to get hard inside of you once more, twitching and pulsing. “Holy shit, are you serious?” Your walls flutter around him.
“So serious, fuck, I’m hard again.” He cages you in as he lifts his body off, just enough to get a proper look at you.
“I like you, for so long. F-fuck, let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow? Hm?”
You hiss at the sensitivity, “Yes, and by the way, I like you too.”
Nicholas’ eyes widen slightly for a moment, then it turns into something dark. His pupils dilate, and he rolls his hips just once, letting you feel his hard length again.
“F-fuck, say you’re mine, never letting you go now. Sweet girl with a sweet pussy.”
You bat your eyelashes up at him, a half moan, a half smiling tugging at your lips. “Yours, ‘m yours.”
Nicholas smirks as he begins to roll his hips with you moaning underneath him. He nuzzles his head into your neck, sucking and biting your neck. “My sweet girl.”
in which you take a nap and give nico permission to try a kink you've always fantasized about. or - the one where you wake up with nico inside you.
wc: 2k | notes: smut (don't like it? don't read it), consensual somnophilia, raw sex, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink, nico gets rough, minors do not interact!
It was a hot summer day, too hot to be outside under the sweltering sun. Instead, you opted to read on the couch with a fan oscillating back and forth. It became so rhythmic and quiet, you fell asleep with the book in your lap.
Meanwhile, Nico was seething, much like the broiling air outside. He was annoyed and stressed, and nothing was going to soften his mood.
The moment he laid eyes on you, he stood corrected.
You looked so peaceful on the couch, sleeping soundly. Nico quietly stepped out of his shoes and put his things away, careful not to wake you. All the while, your boyfriend was eyeing you.
Dressed in a sheer tee and panties in an attempt to stay cool, you looked mouth-watering. Nico crept closer, remembering the conversation you and he had where you gave him permission to touch you in your sleep.
Nico watched your face when he lowered to the couch, fully expecting you to wake up when he carefully slipped your panties off.
"I don't know. It turns me on, you fucking me awake," you'd told him before, and Nico had gotten so hard he couldn't see straight.
It just meant you trusted him deeply with your body. And Nico got off to that. The connection he had with you was indescribable. Your total surrender, only getting pleasure from him.
Nico's hands gently traced up your body, under your tee, which was sticking to you slightly because of the light sheen of sweat on your skin. He gingerly pulled it over your head and dropped it to the floor, situating himself between your legs.
To Nico's surprise, you still didn't wake when he palmed your sex. He started to debate if fingers in your cunt might pull you out of sleep and selfishly, Nico wanted only to wake you with his cock.
Slicking his length with his saliva, which was already painfully hard in his hand from seeing you pliant beneath him, Nico fitted his cock into your entrance and pushed in, inch-by-inch, feeling your velvet walls give way.
You still didn't move, which both annoyed and relieved Nico. On the one hand, he thought penetrating you would wake you right up, having to stretch to accomodate him. On the other, you staying asleep meant he got to use you exactly as you had asked him to.
Nico propped up on his hands and knees, and eased his cock back and forth in your perfect pussy. Your bodies touched only where he gloved his dick in you. A groan escaped him, then another; Nico knew he wasn't going to last long.
And given you were asleep, he didn't have to worry about how fast he was finishing.
There was a little wet slap every time he thrust, making Nico shake his head that you could still get so wet for him even while you slept. He watched your breasts bounce with his movements and he hissed, "You don't even know how perfect you are."
Nico sped up, grasping your hips and emptying himself inside you, his sounds of pleasure filling the room. Nico's eyes lolled and he blinked to clear his vision, shaking his head. His hair was damp with sweat and the fan made the drops cool on his skin.
Looking down at you, sleeping soundly with a belly full of cum, made Nico decide he was staying right there, his cock still between your folds. He lowered down, pressing a soft kiss on your chest before laying his head in the crook of your neck.
You don't remember what you were dreaming about, only that you felt warm and safe. And full. A little tension stitched your brows.
Nico kept kissing at your neck, the wet pop reaching your ears. Your legs shifted, rubbing against his hips. Nico felt his cock getting hard inside you again (not that he'd gone totally soft while your pussy warmed him), and he thrust forward gently, reflexive to your walls clenching on him.
"Nico," you sighed, slowly waking. Your hands instinctively went to his waist and your eyes opened, a kiss landing on your lips the moment your gazes met.
Nico kissed you with hot intent, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stroked his cock back and forth in your cunt, biting his lip when you moaned.
"Hear that?" Nico asked, referring to the very wet pop when he bottomed out.
You met his eyes and nodded.
"You're already full of cum, baby."
Arousal flushed through your body and you tightened your thighs on his waist, drawing him into you. Your voice was weak when you asked, "You fucked me and came in me already?"
Nico smirked darkly. "Mmhm."
"How was it?"
"I didn't last long," Nico said with a little chuckle, still arching his hips into you.
You smiled bashfully, earning yourself another kiss. Settling deeper into the couch, you draped your legs on Nico's hips, held onto his arms, and lost yourself in his eyes as he fucked you.
Nico couldn't pull his gaze from you. He eased himself back and forth in your wet, warm pussy, eagerly sucking him back in. Your body was so in love with him and Nico was obsessed with you.
Little nothings spilled from your lips and you bit down to fight them. Nico was so hard and deep, you could feel him in the pit of your stomach. Already being slick with his load turned you on, along with the image of him using you like a vessel for his pleasure.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Nico groaned, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip, freeing it from your teeth. "Just wanna fuck you for hours. Feel that pussy come on me."
"Do it," you sighed, winding your fingers into his sweaty hair and tugging. "Make me feel you for days."
"Fuck," Nico swore, crashing his lips on yours and kissing you hungrily. The lewd wet squelch when he bottomed out made his cock twitch and he shoved in harder, making you arch up into him.
Curious, you peered up into his dark eyes and asked, "Did you stay in me after you came?"
Nico smirked a little. "Yeah. Filled you up, stayed in, and kept pumping balls deep in you."
"Oh god..."
"Tight fucking pussy didn't let me get soft," Nico whispered hotly, his thrusts coming faster, his hand brushing up your body to palm your breast. "Just wanted to milk more cum outta me, huh?"
You nodded, his words and his voice making your cunt clench on him. Your toes were already curling. Orgasm was on the tip of your tongue.
In the next second, Nico's hand left your breast to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He smacked his hips into yours, driving into you with the intent of finishing you off, and his lips ghosted over yours when he said, "Come for me. Now. Don't make me say it again."
You were sore from his big cock stretching you out, stuffing you full over and over, that you felt like a nerve laid bare, all the stimulation hitting you at once. You felt the pleasure of him deep in your belly hitting the spot just right and at his command you came, your cries cut off by the hand around your throat.
"Good girl," Nico sighed, working you through the orgasm at his steady pace, grunting at the pulsing of your sex on his dick.
If two people were meant to be tangled together, Nico knew in his soul it was you and him.
After hitting the peak, your body shook from the euphoria, your eyes lolling into your head. You realized too late that you'd found purchase in Nico's back, your nails digging into his skin. Nico, of course, was delighted. He lived for the marks you left behind in his flesh; a reminder that he'd buried his cock inside you.
Nico groaned and licked his lips to wet them, kissing you as he kept colliding his hips into yours, your little noises filling his mouth. "I know, baby," he said, loving your whimpers. "Just a little more."
You were right at your limit. Your cunt was sore in the best way, but Nico's stiff cock kept sheathing inside you. If he had his way, he'd keep easing his dick in and out of your pussy until one of you tapped out.
"Please, come," you begged him in a faint whisper.
Nico assessed you a moment, watching your pretty face tense when he thrust in, then your breasts bouncing with his movements. He didn't want it to end, but your body was screaming for a reprieve. Nico grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, and started to fuck you at a relentless pace.
"Take it, baby." His voice was a growl, almost drowned out by your moans and whines. "Almost there. Fucking shit. You're gonna take all of it."
You cried out when his cock kissed your cervix and with another stroke Nico came with a loud groan, painting your walls with another load. You watched his eyes go hazy, his lips parted, his arms shaking as he gripped your hands tighter, the pleasure tearing through his body.
"Fuck," Nico chanted, trying to catch his breath and failing. He was panting. He stayed painfully still, his cock taking its sweet time going soft in you, but once it did, he pulled out and fell back onto the other side of the sofa.
It caught you off-guard; how empty you felt with him no longer filling you, but then you were distracted by his cum slipping out and you quickly rolled to your side and closed your legs.
Nico was there in a flash, steering you onto your back again and, holding your legs together, bent toward your body. "Keep it all in," he whispered darkly.
You let him do as he pleased, because the man had tapped into everyone of your kinks, and all he did was turn you on so bad you couldn't think straight.
Nico couldn't help himself; he cupped your sex, teasing his fingers through your folds and moved your ankles to be on his shoulders just as he locked eyes with you.
You made a little noise and Nico couldn't decipher it so he asked, "Sore?"
You nodded.
"How sore?"
"If you put your dick in me again right now I'd probably die," you quipped.
Nico chuckled. "Lucky for you, my balls are empty at the moment. Thanks to you."
You bit your lip, staring at his handsome face damp with sweat and flushed with heat, and thinking, This sexy motherfucker...
Nico cocked his head and asked, "If you're so sore, why are you looking at me like that?"
"I can't help it."
Two fingers slowly pressed into your swollen cunt and you gripped the sofa in your fists, crying out his name in a mix of surprise and fuck, how could it hurt so good?
Nico shook his head. "I swear to god, baby. I just wanna fuck my cum into you all day."
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒， after your rent suddenly skyrockets, you desperately accept a cheap room in an apartment shared by ej and his three friends—k, fuma, and Nicholas. You move in the same day.
at first they seem nice enough, but the masks quickly slip. your favorite panties start to go missing, someone’s laptop is left open to the most depraved hentai you’ve ever seen, one roommate has zero concept of personal space, another fucks his hookups so loud the headboard slams against your wall (you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose), and the last one has no respect for your or his privacy—giving you far too many unwanted close-ups of him jerking off.
rent's cheap… but you’re starting to realize you might be paying for more than you can handle
❪ MASTERLIST ❫ ✶ roommate!hyung line x f!r 12k wc⠀→ pure filthy smut but with plot! ░ dub con, non con elements, fuma's a bit depraved, dom!hyungline, ej is a pervert!!!, panty stealing, sub!reader, free use, spit roasting, gang bang, unprotected p in v, light choking, oral (m. & f. rec), praise kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, dacryphilia, overstimulation (m. & f. rec), come swallowing (m. & f. rec), degradation, bulge kink, spit kink, missionary, use of pet names, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, unprotected sex (bad!!!!), marking, man handling, double penetration, choking, cumplay tit job, tit play, blowjob, handjob, cunnilingus, mean doms!, rough sex, recording, aftercare, somnophilia, size kink, reader is short, edging, pussy slapping, lots of sex (in every place, in every possible position), squirting, name calling, dry humping/grinding, marking, two faced ej & fuma, morally grey hyung line.
chapter : one , two , three
now playing : deeper by partynextdoor
REBLOG FOR ❤︎ㅤ A KISS
Your rent went up again.
Your landlord had the absolute gall to send you an email at 4:30 in the morning: “Due to market adjustments, your monthly rent will increase by $450 starting next month.” You stared at the number until the words blurred. That was half your paycheck after bills. You'd already been stretching every dollar, skipping meals some weeks, and now this.
That same night, you invited your friend Yuma over, your voice shaky as you paced your tiny studio.
“Yuma… I genuinely don’t know what to do. They raised it again. I can't afford this anymore! I'm going to end up homeless!”
"Don't panic, god," Yuma muttered. He took a long sip of his soda, the straw slurping loudly in the otherwise quiet room, then let out a long, tired sigh. His sharp, cat-like eyes watched you with a mix of concern and mild exasperation. “Seeing you freak out like this is making my head hurt."
“Listen—I might have a solution. My friend Euijoo owns this big apartment with three other guys. The rent is stupid cheap because they split it five ways now. They've been looking for a fifth roommate for a while. The place is decent, and clean-ish, and I know you might be worried because it's 4 guys, but trust me, Ej is the kindest person you’ll ever meet. He's super nice and responsible. The others are chill too, I think K, Fuma, and Nicholas are there names. want me to text Euijoo for you?”
You were desperate. You said yes without thinking twice.
Within two days, you were hauling your suitcases up the stairs with the help of Yuma.
Ej is quick to greet you, he stands there in the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, with that soft, kind boyish smile you’ve seen in the few photos Yuma had shown you. His brown hair falls slightly over his eyes, which are covered by thin-framed glasses. He’s wearing a light grey sweater, which hangs lazily off his thin body, and baggy light blue, ripped jeans that hang a bit low. low enough for you to catch sight of the brand of boxers he wears. “You must be the new roommate,” he says warmly, voice gentle and a little deep. “I’m Euijoo, but you can call me Ej if you want. Come in, come in—Yuma told me you were coming today. Is he with you?”
“Oh no, he just left. helped me bring my suitcases up, though. He said his roommate started a fire in their kitchen.” You shrug, dragging your suitcases past him and into the surprisingly spacious living room. It's cleaner than you expected for an apartment inhabited by 4 boys. The place smells faintly of cologne, laundry detergent, and something warmer, almost sweet. Sunlight pours through the large window, making the walls turn golden. It's far nicer than your old studio.
His eyes flick over you for just a second too long before he smiles again. “Must’ve been Jo. He's not the best cook. Anyway, your room’s down the hall, first door on the left. We cleared it out yesterday. You have your own bathroom, but feel free to use ours if needed. The water pressure in yours can be a bit off.”
Before you can thank him, two more figures appear from the kitchen.
One is lean and sharp-featured, with blonde hair falling over his rough-featured face, wearing a black tank top, low-slung black sweatpants that show off the chrome hearts logo, and a silver chain. He eyes you up and down with a slow, lazy smirk. “So this is the new girl. I’m Nicholas."
The other one is maybe an inch or two taller, broader in the chest, with dark hair and a soft gaze. He's in a tight white shirt that shows that he definitely goes to the gym. “Fuma,” he says simply, voice deep and a bit raspy, gaze lingering on your legs before he nods once.
“Ah, yeah!” Ej’s voice raises slightly, still holding that sweet and gentle tone, “K isn’t here. He works a lot, so he’s rarely around. But you’ll probably get to meet him tomorrow.”
He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it had earlier.
You force a smile, trying to ignore the way the air suddenly feels heavier. “Thanks again for letting me move in so fast. I really appreciate it. I needed this.”
“No problem,” Ej says, that kind smile still in place as he grabs two of your heavier suitcases like they weigh nothing. “Let me help you get settled.”
He leads you down the hallway, the others watching you go.
Your new room is small but cute—the movers had already placed the larger items from your previous studio in it. The big window with a decent view catches your eye first, a beautiful view of Tokyo shining into your room. Ej sets the suitcases down and lingers in the doorway for a moment.
“If you need anything… anything at all,” he says softly, eyes warm, “just knock on my door. I’m right across the hall.”
He gives you one last gentle smile before closing the door behind him.
You exhale, finally alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
That illusion lasts exactly five hours.
You’re unpacking when you hear it.
The first moan is low, muffled through the wall—coming from the room that sits next to yours. then another, louder. a girl’s voice, breathy and desperate.
thud. thud. thud.
The headboard starts slamming against the shared wall between your room and his. rhythmically. Hard.
You freeze with a folded shirt in your hands.
“Oh fuck—nicho!—right there—”
The moans get louder, wetter. The sound of the bed creaking violently spills in through the thin walls. You can hear the sound of skin slapping skin, the girl crying out every time the headboard hits your shared wall. The noises are so loud that you can even hear them over the music blasting in your headphones, but you don't say anything. You simply turn the music up and try to ignore the obscene noises from next door.
Twenty minutes later, when the girl finally leaves (you hear the front door close), Nicholas walks past your open door shirtless, sweat glistening on his chest, sharp gaze upon you, face remaining still as if he hadn’t been blowing someone's back out just minutes ago.
He pauses, just for a second, before leaning against your doorframe.
“Need help with anything?” he asks innocently, voice soft. His eyes drop. curse him for being extremely attractive, you think. eyes trailing over the sharp lines of his abs, the deep V-line disappearing under the waistband of his black Chrome Hearts boxers.
“N-no, I’m good,” you mumble.
He just nods, still smiling. “Cool. dinner’s in an hour if you want to join us. gonna order pizza.”
The first night passed in uneasy fragments of sleep; it’s not like you weren't tired—you were exhausted, but every creak in the apartment made you tense. The headboard incident from Nicholas’s room still echoed in your mind, but after he’d casually invited you to pizza as if nothing had happened, the rest of dinner had been… normal. almost too normal. Ej kept refilling your water with that gentle smile. Fuma spoke in short, low sentences but offered you the last slice without a word. Nicholas joked about how bad Tokyo traffic is while sprawled on the floor, his shirt still missing, but he never once looked at you for longer than a second.
You told yourself it was just first-day jitters. You were overthinking it. They were guys, of course, there would be situations like that. The rent was cheap. You could handle mild awkwardness if it meant not being homeless.
That’s what you told yourself.
The morning light filtered through your thin pink curtains, painting golden stripes across the boxes you still hadn’t unpacked. Your phone read 7:42 a.m. Your stomach growled, pulling on an oversized hoodie and loose shorts—nothing revealing—you padded barefoot toward the kitchen, hoping to slip in and out quietly.
The scene that greeted you was unexpectedly domestic.
EJ stood at the stove in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, rolling eggs into gyeran-mari with careful precision. His brown hair was still sleep-mussed, glasses perched on his nose. he looked up when you entered and offered that same soft, boyish smile from yesterday.
“Morning. Sleep okay? The walls here are pretty thin. Sorry if you heard anything last night.”
Your stomach twisted. He said it so casually, like he was apologizing for a noisy neighbor instead of his roommate’s loud, explicit hookup that echoed through the shared wall. You forced a small laugh.
“Oh yeah, it’s fine. I had headphones.”
Ej nodded, eyes crinkling kindly behind his lenses. “Good. We try to keep it down, but Nicholas gets… enthusiastic.” he plated two slices of gyeran-mari and slid them toward you with a fork. “Here. consider it an apology breakfast for Nicho’s behavior.
You murmured a small thanks and took the plate, perching on one of the mismatched barstools at the counter. The kitchen was surprisingly well-stocked for four guys: fresh vegetables in the fridge, containers labeled in a mix of Japanese characters and hangul littered around the kitchen. A bottle of Taiwanese chili sauce sat near the stove, next to a half-empty jar of gochujang that had clearly seen frequent use.
Fuma appeared next, broad shoulders filling the doorway. He wore a tight black compression shirt that clung to the gym-honed chest you’d noticed yesterday, along with black shorts. He mumbled a quiet “good morning” in that deep, raspy voice, then opened the fridge and pulled out a protein shake without looking at you directly.
But when he shook the bottle, his gaze flicked to your bare legs where they dangled from the stool. just for a second. then to Ej.
“Going to the gym. Need me to pick anything up on my way back?”
EJ wiped his hands on a dish towel, thinking for a moment. “We’re low on eggs and milk. maybe some more rice if you see the kind we normally get—and grab whatever snacks you want. new roommate might like something sweet after all the moving stress.”
Fuma’s eyes shifted to you again—brief, unreadable—before he nodded once. “Got it,” as he turned to leave, his broad frame passed close behind your stool. The fabric of his compression shirt lightly brushed your shoulder, warm from his body heat. He didn’t apologize or acknowledge it.
Nicholas finally shuffled in a few minutes later, yawning widely, hair sticking up in every direction. he was shirtless again, black sweatpants slung dangerously low. The silver chain dangling around his neck caught the morning light as he scratched his stomach absently.
“Juju, cooking? wow. He must like you, roomie.” he reached over and stole a piece of egg from the edge of your plate with his fingers, popping it into his mouth with a grin. “You look like you actually slept. Headphones must be noise-canceling.” his tone was playful and carefree.
You shifted on the stool. “They’re decent.”
EJ signed, swatting Nicholas’s hands from your plate before shoving his own plate towards him. “Be nice, Nicho. She just got here. don’t scare her off before the week is over.”
You kept your gaze on your food, cutting another small bite of the gyeran-mari. It really was good—fluffy, perfectly seasoned. Ej was watching you with that same kind, eye crinkling smile, waiting for your reaction.
“It’s delicious, Euijoo,” you said quietly. “Thank you.”
Ej’s shoulders relaxed a little, as if your approval mattered. “Glad you like it. I can make it again tomorrow if you want. Or try something else—I know how to cook some Japanese dishes too.”
Fuma had already disappeared down the hallway toward the front door, gym bag slung over one broad shoulder. The apartment felt a fraction less crowded without his quiet, heavy presence, but the air still hummed with the low energy of the three remaining men.
Nicholas finished his water and set the glass down with a soft clink. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. " Don’t miss me too much,” he teases, before sauntering off towards the bathroom. Ej chuckles softly, picking up Nicholas’s now-empty plate and turning to the sink. “He grows on you. eventually,” he sighs, turning on the water and grabbing a sponge. “If the noise from his room keeps bothering you, we can switch rooms. mine’s on the other side of the apartment. quieter.”
You shook your head quickly, waving both your hands. “No, no, it’s okay. really. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“It’s not trouble,” ej said gently, his voice warm and reassuring. He adjusted his glasses, brown hair falling slightly over his eyes. “We want you to feel comfortable here. That’s the whole point of splitting rent five ways—everyone gets a good deal and a good home.”
The way he said it sounded so sincere. His eyes met yours for a long moment, soft and earnest behind the thin frames. Then he smiled again and went back to washing the plate, humming a quiet tune.
You finished eating and rinsed your plate, placing it carefully in the drying rack. As you turned to leave the kitchen, EJ’s hand brushed your lower back—light, guiding, the same polite gesture he’d used yesterday when showing you to your room.
“Careful, the floor might be slippery. I spilled something and had to clean it. It might still be a bit wet,” he murmured. His fingers lingered just a second longer than strictly necessary before pulling away. “Have a good shift at work today. text the group chat if you need anything—train directions, umbrella if it rains, whatever.” You paused, brows furrowing for just a second before relaxing. You hadn’t mentioned your job schedule yet, but you just chalked it up to Yuma, who must’ve told them. “Thanks… yeah, it’s a long one today. café closes at 9.”
Ej nodded, that kind smile never wavering. “We’ll save you some dinner if you’re late. leftovers heat up easily.”
You changed into your work uniform—a simple black polo and dark jeans—and headed out, the morning Tokyo streets already buzzing. Your shift at the small café in Shibuya was familiar: endless orders, steaming milk, wiping tables, sore feet by hour four. The pay was mediocre, the tips inconsistent, but it kept you afloat. well—before.
With your new living situation, things felt a little lighter. more manageable. You didn’t have to count every coin anymore.
So today, instead of settling for a single fruit sando from the convenience store, you let yourself splurge—ordering a warm, filling katsu curry, the kind that actually made the long shift feel a bit worth it.
When you dragged yourself back to the apartment around 9:30 p.m., exhausted and smelling faintly of coffee and vanilla syrup, the place was warmly lit.
EJ appeared in the hallway almost immediately, wiping his hands on a towel. eyes turning into crescent moons as he greeted you, he was in another soft sweater, sleeves pushed up, glasses slightly askew. “Hey, you’re back. long day?”
You nodded, taking off your shoes, carefully placing them next to someone's Rick Owens—probably Nicholas’s, remembering back to the photos Yuma had shown you. “Yeah. busy rush tonight.”
He smiled softly. “We saved you a plate—bulgogi and rice. Fuma picked up some extra side dishes on his way back from the gym.” His eyes flicked over your tired frame, lingering on the way your shoulders slumped. “Go sit. I’ll heat it for you.”
Before you could protest, he was already moving toward the kitchen. You followed wearily and sank onto the couch in the living room. Nicholas was sprawled on the floor, playing a game on his phone, shirtless as per usual. He glanced up with that lazy smirk.
Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, soft sounds emanating from the switch in his big hands. He gave you a quiet nod, dark gaze resting on you for a beat longer than casual.
K wasn’t home yet—still at one of his late training sessions, EJ explained when he brought your warmed plate. The bulgogi was perfectly reheated, savory, and tender. You ate gratefully while the others kept the conversation light: Nicholas complaining about losing a game, Fuma showing you the Pokémon he just caught, and of course, EJ refilling your water with that gentle, reassuring presence. You wondered if it would always be like this.
When you finished, EJ took the plate without being asked. “Nicholas’s will wash this.” Before the blonde boy could protest, EJ shot him a glare before continuing. “You should rest. shower’s free—the big one has better pressure after a long day on your feet.”
You thanked him and headed to your room to grab clothes. As you passed the laundry area, the washing machine was running again. Ej’s voice floated from the kitchen: “If you have work clothes that need washing, just leave them out. I do a load most nights.”
The offer was practical. kind, even. So you said yes, not thinking anything of it.
The next morning, you woke to the sound of your alarm and the faint smell of coffee drifting down the hall.
When you shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie, K was finally there.
He was taller than you expected—easily over 185 cm—soft, youthful face with gentle features. This was the 28-year-old? god, did he look young. He wore a black tank top that clung to his broad shoulders and gym shorts that did nothing to hide the thick muscle in his thighs.
He was standing at the counter, pouring himself a protein shake, when his gaze slid over to you.
“Morning,” he said, smoothly, and he gave you a gentle smile. EJ appeared right behind you, carrying two mugs. “Ah, you met K. He got in late last night.” he set one mug in front of you, “I made you matcha.”
When did you tell him you liked matcha?
You didn’t. You were sure of it. But you decided to let it go; maybe you had forgotten. Maybe Yuma had mentioned it when he set this up. Or maybe you’d said something half-asleep during dinner last night and just didn’t recall. It was fine. EJ was just… thoughtful. That was all.
So you never questioned these small things.
For the first two weeks, your laundry is returned by EJ without incident. Everything comes back clean, folded, exactly as expected—until one day, a pair of pale pink panties is missing. You don’t mention it to anyone, brushing it off as one of those small, annoying mysteries, convincing yourself the washing machine must have eaten them. But it keeps happening. a lacey black pair, a soft pastel blue pair with a bow in the middle, and even a plain white cotton pair adorned with cute bunnies.
You find one pair, though, folded neatly on top of the dryer, smelling faintly like his detergent… and something else.
When you mention it casually at dinner, whispering it to EJ, he tilts his head, that gentle smile in place, brown eyes soft behind his glasses.
“Laundry mix-ups happen a lot here,” he says kindly. “If anything of yours ends up missing again, just ask. It might've ended up with one of us.”
He says it so sweetly, it almost sounds innocent. That’s why you simply let it go.
You stand up to rinse your plate, when K’s slim but well-defined frame is suddenly right behind you at the sink. His chest brushes your back as he reaches over you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You felt the heat of him, smelled the musky, dry, woody aroma of his cologne. He didn’t apologize for crowding you.
You froze, plate still in your hands under the running water. shifting on your feet, as he stands there, tall body caging you against the counter for a long second. His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, close enough that his forearm brushed your side.
And then you felt it.
the unmistakable, heavy outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass.
It was thick—even through the thin material of his gym shorts and your sleep shorts, you could feel the weight and the slow, deliberate twitch as it nestled firmer against you. not fully hard, but definitely not soft.
He didn’t say anything. he simply reached a little higher for the glass, his hips shifting just enough to let his heavy cock drag slowly along your ass—one lazy, unhurried stroke—before he finally stepped back with the glass in hand.
“Excuse me,” his voice soft, steady—that gentle smile still on his face when you peek over your shoulder. His eyes were soft, almost innocent, as if nothing had happened. As if his half-hard length hadn’t been pressed against the flush of your ass.
You told yourself it was an accident.
Just like the missing panties.
All of it.
You kept repeating it like a quiet mantra every time another small thing happened.
The next morning was no different than the last.
You shuffled into the kitchen in your sleep shorts and hoodie. The matcha was already waiting on the counter, the smell of steamed rice and miso soup filling the air. ej shot you that soft, almost shy smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Morning, y/n.”
K stood nearby, pouring his protein shake. When you moved to the sink to rinse your empty mug, he stepped in behind you without a word. ‘Again?’ you thought, his tall frame crowded the small space, chest lightly brushing your back as he reached for a spoon from the drawer beside you. the warm, solid press of his body, and then—just for a heartbeat—the heavy, half-hard weight of his cock resting against the upper curve of your ass through his thin gym shorts. It twitched once, slow and subtle, before he grabbed the spoon and stepped away as if nothing had happened.
You quickly stepped away from the sink, cheeks still faintly warm, and sat back down at the counter to finish your breakfast. Ej slid a fresh bowl of miso soup toward you, the steam curling gently between you both.
Before you could even pick up your spoon, Nicholas leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs, flashing you a cheeky grin. EJ immediately scolded him in that gentle, fond way of his, reaching over to lightly smack the back of Nicholas’s hand with a pair of chopsticks. “Leave her food alone, you gremlin.”
The kitchen filled with their familiar bickering and soft laughter again, the easy rhythm of morning chaos wrapping around you like a blanket. So you tried to let it pull you back in, not to let the strange tension from your moment with K linger in your chest… but the faint heat on your cheeks refused to fade completely.
Fuma was sitting in the armchair across the living room, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed posture, switch held loosely in his big hands. When the conversation lulled, he glanced at you and muttered in his low, raspy voice, “You play games?”
You nodded lightly. “Yeah. When I'm not busy, I used to play a lot more, though.”
He didn’t say anything else, picking up his phone from the side table and holding it out toward you.
“Here,” he said simply. “New trailer dropped. Looks good.”
You leaned forward a bit to see the screen. It was a gaming Twitter post — a short clip of an upcoming horror game. You hummed in agreement, “Yeah, the graphics are nice…”
Fuma’s thumb scrolled down slowly once, showing a couple of comments.
Then the feed auto-refreshed.
The screen suddenly jumped to the next post in his timeline.
It was a drawing—extremely graphic and depraved one at that. a girl bent over, face pressed into the sheets, tears streaming down her cheeks while a much larger man fucked her roughly from behind, hand fisted in her hair. The art was very detailed, glossy, and unmistakably intense: drool, flushed skin, visible bulge in her stomach, the whole scene dripping with depravity.
But Fuma didn’t flinch; he didn’t even snatch the phone away or apologize. He simply kept holding it steady for another second before he tapped once, closing the app without a word, and lowered the phone back to the armrest like nothing had happened.
“Anyway,” he grunted quietly, already looking back at his switch. The trailer was decent. think I’ll check the game out when it's released. Let me know if you want to play it with me.”
His voice stayed low and even. no embarrassment. no explanation. just that heavy, quiet stare lingering on you for a brief moment before he returned to his game.
You quickly sat back, taking a sip of water to hide the flush creeping up your neck.
You told yourself it was an accident.
He’s a guy, of course, he watches porn.
even if it’s extremely graphic and kinda vile porn. People have their preferences. You had no room to judge.
Plus, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Twitter’s algorithm was unpredictable, especially if he followed random accounts. He probably didn’t even notice what popped up before he closed it.
just an accident.
like everything else.
That night, the headboard still tapped rhythmically against your shared wall with Nicholas; it wasn’t the violent slamming from the first few days. The rhythm was slower, more controlled now. The girl’s moans were much quieter—soft, breathy little whimpers that barely made it through the wall, almost like she was trying to stay silent. But Nicholas was a bit louder tonight.
Every few minutes, his low, rough groans carried clearly through the thin barrier.
“fuck… yeah, just like that.”
a slow, heavy thump of the headboard.
“shit, you’re squeezing me so good…”
another groan, louder this time, rough around the edges.
You lie in the dark, frozen under your covers, heart beating faster with every sound. The girl stayed muffled and quiet, but Nicholas didn’t seem to care as much tonight. His voice kept slipping through—low, filthy, and unfiltered.
“Take it deeper, baby… good girl. just like that.”
You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore it.
It didn’t work.
Nicholas groaned again, louder, the sound vibrating through the wall straight into your core.
“fuuuck… that’s it. so fuckin’ wet for me.”
god, you hadn’t gotten off since you moved in here.
between the long shifts, the constant low-level tension in the apartment, and the way every small “accident” left you flustered and restless, you simply hadn’t had the chance. Now, lying in the dark with your door locked, the faint rhythmic tapping and Nicholas’s low, filthy murmurs were making it impossible to ignore how empty and needy you felt.
You told yourself you’d just ignore it.
You rolled over and buried your face in the pillow.
But the sounds kept coming—almost slow, deliberate, and teasing.
another low groan. Another soft “good girl” that sounded far too close,
your hand slipped under the waistband of your sleep shorts before you could talk yourself out of it.
You were already wet. embarrassingly so.
Your fingers found your swollen clit and started rubbing slow, tight circles. You bit your lip hard to stay quiet, eyes squeezed shut as you listened to the muffled rhythm next door.
You told yourself the walls were just thin.
Every rough groan from Nicholas made your fingers move faster. Every lazy, vague praise pushed you higher.
Your breath hitched, hips rocking subtly against your hand, chasing the friction. the pent-up need that flooded you.
“Yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”
You imagined it was you he was talking to.
You imagined it was your pussy he was buried in, his hips snapping against you with that same controlled rhythm, his voice dropping to that filthy whisper right beside your ear.
“Such a good girl for me…”
You imagined his voice was for you—that deep, satisfied tone praising you while he fucked you slow and deep.
Your thighs trembled as you rubbed faster, two fingers pressing firm circles while your other hand gripped the sheets. The headboard’s soft tapping matched the pace you set with your fingers, and every low groan from Nicholas pushed you closer.
It didn’t take long.
Your thighs are trembling—fingers rubbing harder, slick sounds barely audible under the blanket. Nicholas let out another low, drawn-out groan — fFuck… gonna cum” — it tipped you over the edge.
You came hard, back arching off the bed, letting out a small whimper as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around nothing, thighs shaking while you rode it out with frantic little circles on your clit.
through you, thighs shaking as you rode it out with small, desperate circles of your fingers.
When it finally faded, you collapsed back against the pillows, breathing hard, heart hammering against your ribs.
The apartment had gone quiet. Nicholas’s session must have ended while you were lost in it.
You lie there in the dark, chest rising and falling, a mix of relief and deep shame washing over you.
You had just gotten off to the sound of your roommate fucking someone else through the wall. god, maybe you were the pervert.
You got off to his voice calling someone else a good girl.
But you just told yourself it was nothing.
just stress relief.
just thin walls and a long dry spell.
It didn’t mean anything.
The next evening you came home late, you went straight to shower and then to drop your dirty work clothes in the laundry basket, Ej was already there sorting a load. He was humming softly, folding things with careful hands. When he picked up one of your smaller items—a pair of pale pink panties adorning pretty delicate bows—he paused for the briefest moment. His thumb brushed over the fabric once, almost absentmindedly, before he brought it closer to his face under the pretense of checking a stain. He inhaled quietly, slowly, then folded it neatly and placed it on the growing stack.
He never turned around. He never knew you were watching from the hallway.
You told yourself he was just being thorough.
For the next three days, everything felt almost… normal.
The apartment settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm. Mornings started with Ej already in the kitchen, pushing his glasses up his nose as he slid a fresh cup of matcha or a bowl of miso soup toward you with that quiet, warm smile—eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Morning, y/n,” he’d say gently, voice warm like he really meant it. K would nod at you from across the counter as he mixed his protein shake, his tall frame relaxed rather than crowding. Nicholas kept blatantly stealing your food, ignoring how EJ berated him for it. Fuma seemed a bit more comfortable. no longer just staring quietly from the armchair; he would engage in small banter with you, or even, when he came home with various packs of Pokémon hard, he would occasionally ask you if you wanted to open them with him.
Your laundry came back clean and neatly folded on your bed—panties occasionally going missing, but not as frequently as before. The headboard in Nicholas’s room stayed mercifully quiet; he even mentioned in passing that his “friend” was out of town for a few days. No accidental brushes at the sink. No graphic hentai flashing on anyone’s phone. no heavy outlines pressing against you in the kitchen.
You started to breathe a little easier. Maybe the first couple of weeks had just been an adjustment period—four guys suddenly sharing space with a girl. Maybe you really had been overthinking everything.
That illusion lasts exactly 3 days.
On the fourth night, you came home exhausted from another long shift, legs aching and eyes burning. You barely managed a quick shower before collapsing onto the living room couch instead of dragging yourself all the way to your room. Your oversized sleep shirt rode up slightly as you curled into the soft cushions, the low murmur of the guys playing games somewhere in the background wrapping around you like white noise. Within minutes, you were out cold.
You didn’t remember falling asleep.
When you woke sometime deep in the night, the apartment was dark except for the faint blue glow of a Switch screen. a warm blanket had been carefully draped over your body, tucked gently around your shoulders and legs, as if someone had taken real care. For a second, it felt comforting—until you shifted under the fabric.
Your sleep shorts were twisted awkwardly high on one thigh, the thin material bunched and pulled tighter than you remembered leaving them. And there, near the inner seam close to the crease of your thigh, was a faint damp spot. The fabric felt slightly stiff, cooler in that one place, like something warm and sticky had been pressed there and left behind to dry. Your stomach gave a quiet, uneasy flutter. You hadn’t been sweating, the rest of your body proof of that, as you didn’t feel any sweat on your skin. You were almost certain the spot hadn’t been there when you fell asleep.
Across from you, Fuma sat slumped in the oversized armchair, legs spread wide in his usual relaxed, dominating posture. The switch rested loosely in his hands, the low volume of what you think is Pokémon barely audible. His face was half-lit by the screen, expression calm and completely absorbed, as if he’d been sitting there the entire time.
He must have felt you stir because he glanced over, warm brown eyes meeting yours without surprise. His voice came out low and raspy, even and unbothered, like he was simply stating a fact.
“You looked cold,” he said simply, thumb still moving over the controls. “I figured I’d cover you.”
You blinked slowly, still groggy, pulling the blanket a little higher as you tried to subtly adjust your twisted shorts beneath it. The damp patch brushed against your skin again—unmistakable now, warm against your inner thigh. Your cheeks burned. had he…?
You internally shake your head. god, Fuma isn’t a pervert. He would never. The dampness was probably just… condensation. Or maybe sweat from the warm blanket that covered your body. or even your imagination running wild because of all those tiny “accidents” from before.
You tried to convince yourself. You really did.
Sleep didn’t come back easily. Every time you shifted under the blanket, the damp spot on your shorts brushed against your inner thigh again. The blue glow from Fuma’s Switch flickered across the dark living room. He hadn’t moved, legs still spread wide, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other tapped at the controls. In the low light, you could see the outline of his cock through the thin material of his sweatpants—half-hard, resting thick against his inner thigh.
god, was he big.
Even soft—well, mostly soft—the heavy shape of him was impossible to ignore. not too long but most definitely thick, the shaft lying diagonally down his leg, the head nudging noticeably against the fabric. You could make out the faint ridge where the bulbous, swollen tip pressed outward, and the way the material stretched slightly over the girth. it looked… heavy. The kind of thick that would stretch you open, make your thighs tremble just trying to take him. The kind of size that would leave a visible bulge in your stomach if he ever pushed all the way in.
Your mouth went dry. ok well, now you were the pervert. definitely the pervert. First getting off to Nicholas’s sexual escapades to thinking Fuma was to defile you, and now staring intently at his dick like some desperate, touch-starved mess.
You told yourself to stop staring, to look away, but your eyes kept drifting back. How was something that thick even real? You’d felt K press against you before, but this… this was on another level. Fuma wasn’t even fully hard yet, and he already looked like he could ruin you.
Before your mind could wander any further, you swallowed and sat up slowly, keeping the blanket wrapped around your waist as you tried to fix your twisted shorts without drawing attention. The movement made the damp fabric drag across your pussy, and you froze. There was another spot right there—right against your covered folds. When you glanced down under the edge of the blanket, you could see the faint stain; it wasn't just damp. It was slick.
You decided to ignore it, chalk it up to another accident. Just as you did everything else that had occurred whilst you lived here.
You forced your gaze away from the sticky mess between your legs and pulled the blanket higher, pretending the warm, tacky smear of cum wasn’t slowly soaking through the thin cotton and coating your pussy lips. You told yourself it was sweat. condensation. anything but what it clearly was—thick ropes of someone’s load rubbed right against your most sensitive skin while you slept.
You forced yourself to stand up on shaky legs, clutching the blanket tightly around your waist like a shield. The damp, sticky fabric of your shorts clung obscenely to your pussy as you moved, the thick smear of cum sliding wetly between your folds with every step. It felt warm and tacky, meaning that this had occurred recently.
The short walk down the hallway felt endless. Your bare feet padding softly against the floor, the sticky drag between your legs was impossible to forget. You slipped inside and closed the door behind you a little too quickly, leaning back against the wood as you finally let the blanket drop. The cool air hit your skin, but it did nothing to calm the burning between your legs.
You barely had a moment to steady yourself before a soft, firm knock sounded on the door.
Without waiting for an answer, the knob turned. Fuma stood there, filling the doorway with his tall frame. In his large hand was your phone, screen dark. He held it out toward you, his expression calm and unreadable as always.
“You left this on the couch,” he said, voice low and raspy, barely above a murmur.
His eyes flicked down for a second, just once—slow, heavy—landing on the obvious damp patch darkening the crotch of your sleep shorts. he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t need to. The glossy cum stain was unmistakable in the dim light of your room, the thin fabric clinging to your folds where someone's cum had soaked through while you slept.
He stepped just inside the doorway, not fully entering but close enough that the air felt heavier. He extended the phone a little further, his gaze lifting back to your face after that single, deliberate glance. “Didn’t want you waking up without it,” he added quietly.
You took the phone with quick fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they wouldn’t quite stop trembling. He lingered there for a moment longer, tall and silent, his expression as neutral as ever. His eyes flicked down once more—brief, almost casual—before returning to yours.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, voice low and even. “It looked like you were having a hard time sleeping out there.”
The question was simple. polite, even. But it carried a weight that made your stomach tighten.
You managed a small nod, clutching the phone against your chest like a lifeline. “I’m fine. just tired. long day at work.”
Fuma hummed softly, the sound barely audible. He gave one slow nod, then took a half-step back toward the hallway, though he didn’t turn to leave just yet. His muscular frame still filled most of the doorway, the faint outline in his sweatpants visible in the low light.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
With that, he finally turned and pulled the door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving you alone in your room once more.
You told yourself it was nothing.
Somehow, just another accident.
like everything else so far had been.
It was a little past midnight. You couldn’t sleep. Honestly, you hadn’t really been able to sleep these last few days. You’d been tossing and turning, mind replaying too many small things at once—k’s heavy cock dragging against your ass at the sink that morning, ej’s quiet inhale over your panties, nicholas’s low “good girl” through the wall two nights ago, and now the concept that fuma had come on your shorts whilst you were sleeping. the same shorts discarded next to your bed.
The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Thirsty and restless, you slipped out of bed in just your oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, padding barefoot toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
The hallway was dark, but K’s door was slightly ajar— just a few inches.
You almost walked past.
But then you heard it.
A low, slow, controlled breath. Then your name.
You froze mid-step.
through the narrow gap, the dim light from his bedside lamp spilled out. There he was, pressed against his headboard, completely naked. long legs spread wide.
His hand was wrapped around his cock.
He was stroking himself with slow, deliberate movements—long strokes from base to tip, thumb lingering over the flushed head every time. His cock was long and, dare you say, pretty; it looked bigger than it had felt pressed against your ass. The veins stood out clearly along the shaft, the head flushed dark and glistening with precum.
K’s head was tilted back slightly, eyes half-lidded, but his expression wasn’t lost in pleasure as you’d expect. It was calm. almost focused. That same gentle, youthful face he always showed you in the mornings—soft features, quiet composure—was still there while he pumped his thick cock in his fist. You would’ve walked away if it weren't for your name slipping from his mouth amongst the soft moans escaping him.
It was quiet, barely more than a breath, but you heard it clearly.
His voice was low and smooth, the same gentle tone he used when he said “excuse me” at the sink. Except now it was laced with something heavier, something hungry.
He stroked himself a little slower, dragging his hand down the full length as he breathed your name again, softer this time.
“Fuuck… y/n…”
Your stomach dropped. heat flooding your face and warmth pooling low between your thighs. You stood frozen in the dark hallway, unable to look away as K continued touching himself— calm, controlled, and breathing out your name as a prayer.
His thumb circled the leaking head once more, spreading the precum before he gave himself another long, smooth stroke. His hips twitched up slightly into his fist, but his expression stayed almost serene, like he was savoring it.
He moaned your name again, quieter, almost reverent.
“…love that cute little ass… bet you’d feel so tight around me…”
Your breath caught.
For the first time, one of the “accidents” no longer felt like an accident at all.
And that was confirmed as he looked straight at you through the gap in the door. He didn’t stop, nor did he flinch. he didn’t even look embarrassed. He simply kept stroking—slow, steady, unhurried—while his dark gaze locked onto yours. The corner of his mouth lifted into that same gentle, almost innocent smile he always gave you when he “accidentally” crowded you at the sink.
You were no longer thirsty.
Reality had crashed back in.
Heart pounding, face burning, you tore your eyes away from the sight of k slowly stroking his thick cock while groaning your name, and turned sharply on your heel.
You walked away.
Fast.
The second you closed the door, you locked it with shaking fingers and leaned your back against the wood, breathing hard.
Thighs pressed tightly together. The warmth between your legs hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.
You could still hear his voice in your head.
“…God…Wanna fuck those pretty tits too.”
“…Bet you’d feel so tight around me…”
You squeezed your eyes shut and slid down the door until you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest.
You told yourself it was nothing. just another accident. just guys being guys. But this time the lie tasted bitter.
because he had looked straight at you. he had moaned your name. he had smiled that gentle smile while he stroked his cock.
And you had stood there and watched for much longer than you should have. You don't get any sleep that night.
The next morning came far too soon.
You woke up with a heavy, restless feeling in your chest and an annoying ache between your legs that refused to disappear completely. The memory of K’s calm face and the slow, deliberate way he stroked his cock while moaning your name kept flashing behind your eyes every time you blinked.
You told yourself to act normal.
You told yourself nothing had changed.
You told yourself it was still just an accident.
But even your body didn’t believe you.
You shuffled into the kitchen in your usual sleep shorts and oversized hoodie, trying to keep your steps light and your face neutral.
The familiar scent of fried eggs over rice hit you before you even fully entered the room.
Ej was already at the stove, his glasses falling onto the tip of his nose as he greeted you with a smile. “Morning, y/n. matcha’s ready for you,” he said gently, setting the mug down on the counter exactly where you normally sat
K was standing a few feet away, sipping his americano when you walked in. He looked up and gave you that same gentle, youthful smile—calm, composed, almost sweet, as usual. an expression you’d become accustomed to. just not when his hand was wrapped around his veiny length. “Morning,” he said smoothly, his voice low and kind, as always.
But his eyes lingered. tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.
Your eyes met, just for a second. just long enough for you to remember how those same dark eyes had looked at you through the gap in his door last night while his hand moved slowly up and down his wet cock.
You forced a small nod, putting on your best “oh, I'm completely okay, definitely not spiraling over seeing my extremely attractive roommate jerk off whilst he moans my name” face and mumbled “morning” before quickly moving to sit at the counter, keeping your gaze fixed on the matcha mug.
Nicholas wandered in a minute later, black tank hugging his well-built frame, baggy jeans just low enough to show off the expensive underwear he wore, silver chain catching the light. He stretched lazily, yawning, then shot you a lazy smirk. “You look a little tired, short stuff. rough night?”
You nearly choked on your first sip of matcha.
Fuma was nowhere to be seen. You assumed he was at the gym, and it even worked. Even with one of the four missing, the kitchen felt a lot smaller than usual.
When you stood up to rinse your empty mug, your stomach tightened.
K moved at the same time.
He stepped in right behind you at the sink, tall frame crowding your space like he always did. His chest brushes your back. You felt the heat of him immediately, along with the faint scent of his woody cologne.
His free hand rested lightly on the edge of the sink beside your hip, and then you felt it again, the heavy, half-hard outline of his cock pressing against the upper curve of your ass. again.
But this time it felt different.
He didn’t make it quick. He let himself linger for far longer than necessary. letting his length rest along your ass for a long second, thick and warm, before slowly rolling his hips once—a lazy, deliberate drag along your ass that made your breath hitch. “Excuse me,” he murmured softly near your ear, voice gentle and polite like always.
But you could hear the faint smile in it now. like he knew you had seen him last night. almost as if he knew you had stood there and watched him stroke his cock while he whispered your name. almost like he was reminding you.
K stayed pressed against you for another heartbeat, letting you feel the full weight and warmth of him, before he finally stepped back with the glass he’d been “reaching” for. You quickly rinsed your mug, hands slightly shaky, and sat back down without looking at anyone.
The rest of breakfast passed in a haze. You barely tasted the food that EJ had made. Every time K moved or spoke in that calm, gentle voice, your mind flashed back to the night before—his long, wet, pretty cock easily sliding through his fist, the soft way he moaned your name, eyebrows crinkled with his head thrown back.
You left for work as quickly as possible, mumbling a quiet goodbye.
The entire shift dragged. Your mind kept drifting. You burned two orders of tonkatsu, and the latte art, which you usually excel at, looked as if it were made by a kindergartner with two left hands. and nearly dropped a tray because you couldn’t stop replaying the low, controlled way K had whispered “y/n…” while stroking himself.
By the time you got home that evening, you were exhausted, frustrated, and unbearably pent up.
The apartment felt empty when you stepped inside. You glanced at the front door—no shoes on you. No Rick Owens, no adidas, no gym sneakers, or running shoes, nothing. No lights on in the living room. No familiar sounds coming from the kitchen or any of the bedrooms. You assumed everyone was still out—probably at the gym, working, running errands, or wherever they usually disappeared to in the evenings. You let out a small sigh of relief. No one was home. finally
The moment the front door clicked shut behind you, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud echoing down the quiet hallway. feet carrying you straight to your room as if you were on autopilot. The second the door swung closed, you pushed it with your foot — not realizing you never heard that familiar, satisfying click of the lock.
Only then did you exhale.
You stripped quickly, letting your clothes pool on the floor until you were left in nothing but an oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame. The soft fabric brushed against your bare thighs as you crawled under the covers, pulling the blanket up to your chest.
The moment your head hit the pillow, the images flooded in—unwanted, unrelenting, and far too vivid. K’s calm, gentle face as he slowly stroked his long, pretty cock. the lazy roll of his hips against your ass this morning. the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred within his dimly lit room.
Your hand crept under the oversized hoodie before you could talk yourself out of it. fingers slipping between your thighs, a shaky breath left you.
You were already soaked. embarrassingly so. The thin fabric of your panties is doing almost nothing to contain the wetness between your legs.
Your fingers slipped between your thighs as a shaky breath left you.
Your clit was swollen and sensitive from a full day of low-level arousal you couldn’t shake. You began rubbing slow, tight circles, eyes squeezed shut. But it wasn’t quite enough. Finally, you gave in and slid two fingers lower, teasing your entrance before pushing them inside. The stretch made you whimper softly. You hadn’t realized you were this pent up. Your walls clenching greedily around your own fingers, wet and hot, pulling them deeper as you started a slow, shallow rhythm. You curled your fingers, searching for that spot that always made your toes curl, while your other hand kept rubbing firm circles over your clit.
“Fuck…” You shuddered, voice breaking as you rubbed at your swollen clit with frantic little circles, fingers still buried deep inside your soaked pussy.
The pleasure was building up fast now. You rolled onto your stomach, hips lifted in the air, blanket kicked aside—soft, slick noises that would’ve mortified you if you weren’t already so far gone filled the room. Your moans grew higher, less controlled, spilling freely because you were so sure the apartment was empty.
You were getting close. Your moans turned higher, less controlled. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your fingers working your soaked pussy grew even more obvious.
In your mind, it wasn’t your fingers anymore.
You imagined K’s pretty, steady fingers curling inside you instead, his sweet voice murmuring your name like it was something sacred while he watched you fall apart on him. Then, how Nicholas’s thick cock would replace them, pounding into you loud enough that the headboard would slam against the wall and everyone would hear. Ej’s gentle praise whispering “good girl, just like that” as he slowly worked you open. Fuma’s heavy stare burned into you while he held your legs apart and made you take it, just like in the image you had seen on his phone.
The fantasy consumed you completely. Letting out hushed whines and moans of their names, the sounds turned louder, breathier, desperate. “Nngh— yes— fuck—” The wet sounds grew even filthier as you chased your release, hips rocking back onto your fingers, lost in the fantasy of all four of them using you.
So deep in your thoughts… You didn’t hear the front door open again.
You didn’t hear the quiet footsteps stopping right outside your room.
But Nicholas heard everything,
And now… He had seen everything, too.
Your door hadn’t latched properly when you’d pushed it shut with your foot. It had left open just a few inches—just enough for the dim hallway light to spill in and just enough for anyone standing there to see you clearly. Fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat.
And Nicholas was standing there.
Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, that signature lazy smirk slowly curling on his lips. His eyes were dark, hungry, drinking in the sight of you on your stomach with your ass in the air, hoodie ridden up around your waist, two fingers buried deep in your dripping pussy while you fucked yourself desperately. He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched intently—watched the way your hips rocked back onto your fingers, watched the way your thighs trembled, watched the way your moans grew louder and more broken with every thrust.
When you cried out again—a loud, shameless “Fuck— I’m gonna cum..Nghh—” Nicholas finally let out a low, rough chuckle.
“Jesus Christ, short stuff…”
Your entire body jolted at the sound of his voice.
Panic exploded through you like ice water.
Your fingers froze mid-thrust, eyes flying open. In your rush to hide, you scrambled frantically, trying to yank your finger out of your dripping sex, pull the hoodie down, and pull the covers over you at the same time—limbs tangled, heart slamming against your ribs so hard you could hear it ringing in your ears.
You tumbled off the bed in a clumsy heap, landing hard on the floor with a startled yelp. “Ouch—oh my god ow!” The oversized hoodie rode up even higher as you hit the ground, exposing the curve of your ass and the slick shine on your thighs. Your legs were still trembling from how close you’d been, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Nicholas’s chuckle turned into a full, low laugh — warm, amused, and way too pleased.
“Shit, baby,” he grinned, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. “Didn’t mean to make you fall. Though… the view from here is even better.”
He leaned back against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, silver chain glinting as he looked down at you sprawled on the floor — hoodie bunched uselessly around your waist, thighs shiny with your own arousal, face burning with humiliation.
Your voice came out shaky and small, cracking with panic.
“N-Nicholas… I—you—oh god—the door wasn’t—I thought no one was home—”
He tilted his head, that lazy, cocky smirk widening as he watched you try to cover yourself with trembling hands. “Oh, I know what you thought,” he drawled, voice low and dripping with amusement. “You thought you were all alone… sooo you could moan our names nice and loud while you fucked yourself stupid. Is that right?”
He took one slow step closer, eyes dragging shamelessly over your exposed body.
“Fuck, short stuff. You were really going for it. ‘I’m gonna cum’—loud as hell. Bet the neighbors heard that one.”
Your face burned hotter than it ever had in your life. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Your pussy was still throbbing painfully, right on the edge and now completely denied, making everything ten times worse.
“I’m so sorry—No one's shoes were by the door, and I assumed you guys were not gonna be home for atleast awhil–Oh my god, please don’t tell the others.” You tried to continue, but you paused as Nicholas crouched down slightly, resting his forearms on his knees so he could look at you more closely. His smirk softened into something almost fond, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
You tried to scramble back, heart pounding, but before you could get anywhere, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping tight around your ankle. With one firm yank, he dragged you across the carpet toward him. A startled squeak tore from your throat as the oversized hoodie rode up even higher, bunching uselessly around your ribs and leaving you completely bare from the waist down.
“Shh. Don’t move,” he ordered, voice dropping into that dangerous register that made your pussy clench despite the panic. He crouched lower, free hand sliding up your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your dripping folds. “Look at this messy little cunt… still twitching, still so fucking wet. You really were right there, huh? Poor thing.”
You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he easily shoved your knees apart with one powerful thigh, pinning you open. The size difference hit you hard—his broad frame looming over your much smaller one made you feel tiny and helpless.
“Nicholas—wait, I—”
“I’m so sorry,” he mocked in a soft, syrupy voice, repeating your exact words back to you with a lazy grin. “No one’s shoes were by the door… assumed we weren’t gonna be home for a while…”
His thumb finally pressed against your swollen clit, rubbing slow, firm circles that made your hips twitch involuntarily. Another trickle of slick slipped out of you, and Nicholas’s eyes flicked down to watch it with dark satisfaction. “Oh my god, please don’t tell the others,” he continued in that same mocking tone, voice dropping even lower as he leaned in closer. “That’s what you were gonna say, right, short stuff? Begging me not to tell while your greedy little pussy is dripping all over the floor.”
You shook your head frantically, tears of humiliation stinging your eyes. “I didn’t mean— I thought I was alone—”
“Mhm, so you thought no one was around… that’s why you were crying out our names while you played with that pretty pussy like you were in heat?”
“Loud enough that I heard you from the hallway. ‘Fuck—I’m gonna cum…’ Fuck, baby. You sounded so desperate.”
Your body twitched again under his slow, deliberate touch, another broken sob slipping past your lips as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. The mix of sharp pleasure and deep humiliation made your head spin, your smaller frame trembling helplessly on the floor.
Without thinking, your hips bucked up into his hand — a small, subconscious roll that pushed your swollen clit harder against his thumb and drove his thick fingers a right above the entrance of your dripping heat, teasing the slick folds without pushing inside.
Nicholas’s low chuckle rumbled again, darker this time, as he watched your hips betray you with that small, needy buck.
“Oh?” His voice came out soft and mocking, dripping with that same fake sympathy he had used when stealing your food that morning. “You want more, pretty girl?”
“Fine,” he said, voice dropping into something rougher, meaner. “I’ll give you more.”
Before you could even process the words, his hand flew to your hair, fingers tangling tight in the strands at the back of your head. He yanked you up off the floor with surprising strength, making you cry out as your scalp stung. Your smaller body was pulled upright in one swift motion, legs shaky and unsteady beneath you.
You barely had time to stumble before he spun you around and shoved you forward, bending you roughly over the edge of your bed. The oversized hoodie rode up your back as your chest and stomach pressed into the mattress, ass forced high in the air and legs spread wide by his knee kicking between them.
Your face burned against the sheets, fresh tears soaking into the fabric as humiliation flooded you again. The position left you completely exposed—pussy dripping, clit still throbbing, ass presented like an offering.
Nicholas kept one hand fisted in your hair, holding your head down against the bed while his other hand immediately returned between your thighs. No more teasing at the entrance this time.
He shoved two thick fingers deep inside you in one smooth thrust, burying them to the knuckles. The sudden stretch made you gasp sharply, your walls clenching hard around the intrusion.
“Thereeeee we go,” he growled, voice low and satisfied as he started pumping his fingers faster now — still not frantic, but deeper, harder, curling them relentlessly against that perfect spot with every stroke. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers.
“Fuck… that’s better, isn’t it? Greedy lil’ cunt sucking my fingers so deep. Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dragging over your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your pussy clenched greedily around his fingers. “Crying and apologizing… but you’re sucking my fingers in like you never want me to stop. Such a pathetic little slut.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, bringing them up to smear your own slick across your cheeks before pushing them past your lips and into your mouth. You let out a choked sob as you attempt to swallow around his long digits. He watched you with a satisfied smirk, slowly fucking his fingers in and out of your mouth while his other hand stayed tangled in your hair, keeping you pinned down.
“Taste how wet you got for me,” he growled softly, watching your teary eyes as you instinctively sucked them clean. “Yeahhh, Good girl. But my fingers aren’t gonna be enough anymore, are they, baby?”
Nicholas didn’t even bother straightening up behind you, one hand still fisted in your hair to keep your face pressed into the mattress as he used the other hand to tug off his belt—letting the leather slide free and fall onto the floor with a sharp, metallic clink that caused you to jolt slightly; the noise ringing in your ears.
The sound of his zipper coming down followed, too loud in the quiet room. You felt the heat of his body shift slightly as he freed his cock, the thick, heavy length slapping against your ass cheek once before he gripped it at the base. He teased your swollen clit with it, slapping the sensitive bud lightly—once, twice—making your hips jerk and a fresh sob tear from your throat.
“Shhh, don’t fight it,” he cooed mockingly, pressing the blunt tip against your entrance. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”
You shook your head frantically, tears soaking into the sheets, but the movement only made him laugh—low, dark, and far too pleased. His broad chest stayed pressed to your back, one large hand still fisted tight in your hair to keep your face pinned down while the other guided his cock towards your entrance.
“Liar,” he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “You left the door cracked open like a desperate little invitation. Moaning our names loud enough for me to hear every filthy word…and now this tiny cunt is dripping down my cock like it’s starving for it.”
Then he pushed forward.
The thick head stretched you open slowly, forcing your tight walls to part around his girth. The burn was immediate and overwhelming, but so delicious—he was so much bigger than his fingers, so much thicker than you could handle in this position. A broken cry ripped from your throat as he sank in deeper, inch by relentless inch, until his hips finally met your ass and he bottomed out completely. But he didn’t give you time to adjust—beginning to thrust with slow heavy rolls, punching the air from your lungs with each deep stroke.
The filthy, wet slap of skin on skin echoed louder with every movement. His hips slamming against your ass with a rough, punishing force. The impact jolting your small frame forward with each thrust. He kept you pinned exactly how he wanted: face down, ass up, smaller body folded beneath his much larger one like you weighed nothing. “Fuuuck,” Nicholas groaned, “You feel so good. Can barley move… Fuckk tight cunt taking me so well.”
His hips rolled in deep, heavy thrusts that drug the air from out of your lungs with each movement. The wet, filthy slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, growing louder and more obscene with every punishing stroke.
Nicholas showed you no mercy, keeping one hand fisted tight in your hair as he pressed your cheek firmly into the sheets.
The sound of your cunt was downright filthy—It made you cringe through tears.
Wet, lewd squelching noises echoed with every thrust as his thick cock plunged in and out of your soaked hole. Each time he bottomed out, a messy, obscene schlick-schlick-schlick filled the air—your arousal coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs, making the slide even wetter, even louder.
“Shittttt…pretty girl… listen to how wet you are,” he laughed breathlessly, the sound almost mocking. “This greedy little pussy is dripping down my balls. You’ve been dying for cock, huh?”
The slick sounds mixed with the sharp slap of his hips meeting your ass, creating a filthy rhythm that left no room for denial.
He suddenly pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head stretching your hole, before slamming back in with one brutal thrust. The force ripped a broken sob from your throat as your walls clenched violently around him. You shook violently, breathing becoming rapid as you sobbed into the sheets, coating the pink fabric in a different type of wetness.
Nicholas groaned loudly as he felt your pussy flutter and spasm around his cock—grinding his hips deep so you could feel every inch of him buried inside you. He leaned down closer, broad chest now pressing fully against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he fucked you with slow, punishing rolls.
“God, you are such a lil’ slut. Pretty cunt keeps sucking me in. Juju’s gonna lose his fucking mind. He’s been sniffing your panties like a pervert for weeks. k’s been worse though, so patient with you…leavin’ the door open when he jerks off to see if you’d break… and fuma? He’s been waiting to see how pretty you cry when you’re stuffed full,” he whispered, voice dripping with cruel amusement—hand slipping underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubbed it tight, mean circles that made your thighs shake uncontrollably, slapped your clit lightly, making you jolt and cry out, then did it again harder.
“You gonna let them take turns with this sloppy little hole after I’m done with it?”
The words hit you like ice water.
Your breath caught in a sharp, broken sob. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, soaking into the already ruined sheets. Your mind spun, a dizzying mix of shame, fear, and unwanted heat flooding your body all at once.
The thought of them taking turns—passing you around like a toy and using your aching, dripping cunt one after another—twisted your stomach with shame… and made your cunt clench hard around Nicholas’s cock despite the shame coursing through you
You shook your head frantically, the movement limited by his tight grip in your hair.
“N-no… please—” your voice came out in small, cracked, and pathetic moan, the sound barely more than a whimper. “I can’t… not all of them… please, Nicholas—”
Your cries only egged him on; he began to thrust faster and harder, the bed creaking loudly beneath you. You could hear how he laughed—low, dark, yet delighted amongst the creaks and wet obscene sounds of your bodies together.
“It’s okay, pretty” he cooed mockingly, voice rough. “Right now—” He tightened his grip in your hair and yanked your head back just enough to growl against your ear, “This cunt is mine.” He pulls you back even further—grip on your hair forcing your back into an arch as he pounded into you. The new angle making his cock hit that sensitive spot with every thrust, ripping broken sobs and whimpers from your throat. Your smaller body jolted forward with each punishing snap of his hips.
You had already been so close.
Before he walked in, you’d been frantically fingering yourself—fingers pumping in and out of you; deep. hips rocking your swollen clit desperately aganist the palm of your hand as you chased your release. Their names slipping from your lips like a filthy prayer, amongst the soft squelches of your needy cunt.
You had been right on the edge, right there… and then he caught you.
And now that denied orgasm was coming crashing back ten times stronger. Fueled by every savage thrust of his thick cock and every dirty word that fell from his mouth—coated with a nasty edge.
Nicholas could feel it—the way your cunt gripped at his cock, sucking it deeper with each time he pulled out only to thrust into you again with brutal force. “Ohhh, there it is,” he taunted, “You gonna cum? Yea? You were so fucking close before, weren’t you, pretty girl?” his voice dripped with mockery, “Moaning ‘Juju… K… Fuma…’ like a little slut. You wanted to fuck your new roomies that bad, yea?” he cooed, as your pathetic sobs already had began morphing into desperate, breathy moans.
The words sent another humiliating wave of heat through you. Your mind screamed no, begged even— but your body did not listen to. it instead betrayed you completely. Your cunt gushed even wetter, the lewd sounds growing louder as he pounded into you without mercy. The pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter, your clit throbbing under his relentless fingers, your entire body shaking as you teetered right on the edge.
You tried to hold back. You really did. You told yourself that if you could just resist a little longer, maybe you could hold onto some shred of your dignity. But the combination of his thick cock stretching you open, the brutal pace, the sharp slaps to your swollen clit, and the overwhelming shame of his words was too much. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train—harder and more intense than anything you’d ever felt before.
Your back arched into his stomach—a broken, sobbing cry tearing from your throat as your walls spasmed violently. Overwhelming pleasure erupted through you in blinding waves. Your vision blurred with tears and your mind went white, eyes rolling back. Your pussy gushed slick around him, soaking his cock and dripping down your thighs in messy rivulets while your body shook uncontrollably.
Nicholas groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he fucked you through every intense spasm. “Fuuuck— that’s it. Cum on my cock, pretty little slut. Look at you… making such a fucking mess.” He kept thrusting through your orgasm, drawing out every last shake of your body until you were whimpering and twitching from the overstimulation, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.
He kept pounding you until he felt his climax approaching—only then did he pull out.
With a rough groan, Nicholas yanked his heavy length free, leaving your cunt gaping and leaking. He gripped the base of his thick, glistening length and stroked it fast and hard right above your trembling body.
“Fuuuuuck—gonna cum all over you, baby.” His hips jerked. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splattering across your back and ass in messy white streaks. Some landed on the curve of your spine, even a few drops landing on your swollen, twitching pussy. The warm stickiness coating your bare skin—Milking every last drop until you were thoroughly marked with him.
Nicholas exhaled shakily, a satisfied smirk curling on his lips as he looked down at your ruined state — tear-streaked face, hoodie bunched uselessly around your ribs, swollen pussy still twitching and dripping.
He leaned down, brushing damp hair from your forehead with surprising gentleness.
“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured, voice low and dark. “First one down.”
He pressed one last mocking kiss to your temple before standing up, tucking himself back into his pants. “Rest up, short stuff.” Nicholas gave your ass one final, possessive slap before he walked toward the door, leaving you sprawled on the bed—exhausted, leaking, and utterly used.
Nicholas didn’t tell anyone.
Well, not that you knew of.
You woke to the familiar scent of matcha waiting on the counter and EJ greeting you with that same soft, boy-like smile as he pushing his glasses up his nose and slid the mug toward you. “Morning, y/n.”
K stood nearby, sipping at his americano, giving you his usual gentle smile when you entered.
Nicholas wandered in a few minutes later, shirtless as usual, silver chain glinting against his chest. He leaned over and stole a forkful of your scrambled eggs with that signature lazy smirk.
“Morning, short stuff,” he drawled, voice perfectly casual, like he hadn’t spent last night wrecking you until you passed out on his cock.
He didn’t wink. He didn’t smirk knowingly. He didn’t say a single word about what happened.
He just stole another bite, earning the usual gentle scolding from EJ, and acted like nothing had changed. Fuma sat in the armchair, legs spread wide, quietly playing on his Switch. His dark gaze flicked to you for a second longer than usual, but he as usual he gave you a nod—’Good morning.” falling from his lips.
The whole morning felt… normal. Far too normal.
You sat there in your sleep shorts and hoodie, thighs still faintly sore, pussy still tender and aching from how roughly Nicholas had used you. Every shift in your seat reminded you of the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy sounds your pussy had made, the way you’d sobbed and came so hard you blacked out.
Yet none of them acted any different.
It was almost worse than if they had said something.
You kept waiting for the shoe to drop. For Nicholas to make a comment. For one of them to look at you differently. But the day passed in the same careful rhythm as before.
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authors note: after the long wait, its finally here!! i decided to split it into 4 chapters because each smut scene is relatively long. i also don't wanna accidentally burn myself out.. i start school soon hehe. i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. apologies for any mistakes, i tend to write roommate wanted at like 2-6am! i'm working on ej's chapter now—the wait shouldn't be too long. don't worry~ if u see things change in this its bc when i get bored i reread my fics n edit them!!
❛ 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
in which your boyfriend doesn't care how long you spent on your lip combo ♡ requested by @elisa21sstuff—i ended up making it more suggestive more than smutty, hope that's okay with you and you like it!!
yudai
your boyfriend stops dead in his tracks when he walks into your shared bedroom and sees you. you’re standing in front of the mirror, debating between two necklaces to go with your outfit for tonight’s date. he’s taking you to an upscale restaurant and you want to look your best.
you side-eye him but say nothing as he makes his slow way over to you, a smirk on his lips. he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on top of your head, making your bodies sway lightly from side to side. “you look beautiful,” he says, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “and all mine.”
you try your best not to look visibly flustered. three years in, and he still makes butterflies erupt in your stomach with just a few words. “thanks, baby. help me choose my necklace?”
“sure. turn around for me.”
from the upward curve of his lips and the glint in his eyes, you should’ve seen it coming—but still, he manages to take you by surprise as you turn around to face him and are instantly met with his lips to yours.
“yudai!” you say, trying to sound chiding only laughing. “i spent so long on my lip combo,” you whine, turning back around to check your makeup in the mirror. you’re good to do your lips all over.
“sorry, baby.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “you just looked too good, couldn’t help myself. here,” he says, reaching with a thumb, presumably to wipe your smudged lipstick—only to press his lips to yours once more.
fuma
you’re finishing up your makeup in front of the bathroom mirror when your boyfriend walks in. he seems only to be here to fetch something—but when he sees you, he changes his plans, coming up stand behind you instead, hands firm on your hips as he starts to press kisses to the side of your neck. you sigh, half letting yourself melt into his touch, half aware you have plans you’re going to be late for if you let him have his way.
“what did i do to deserve you, hm? i must’ve saved the country in a past life,” he hums against your skin.
“don’t distract me, fuma. i need to do my lip combo.”
“hm? i’m not doing anything,” he says, pressing himself closer to you, arms coming to wrap around your waist.
you swear you feel something hard against your lower back. “fuma,” you say, your tone a warning—as much for him as for you.
“what can i do when my baby looks this good?”
“you can keep it in your pants,” you bite back, making him laugh.
you manage to ignore him until you’ve applied your lip gloss. you pop your lips, proud of your work, then turn around. “okay, i’m ready to—” you’re cut off by your boyfriend’s mouth on yours.
you’re just a girl—when fuma’s lips move against yours like this, so messy and desperate like he couldn’t wait a second longer, your lower back pressed against the sink, you can’t help but kiss him back.
“we’re gonna be late,” you mutter weakly.
“they can wait,” he says, pulling you into another kiss.
nicholas
“all this? for a girl’s night?” your boyfriend asks, sitting up on your shared bed.
“yes, nicho, all this.” you ignore his pouting—you’ve had this conversation countless times already.
putting his phone down on the pillow next to him with more force than needed, he crawls over to you, sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at your reflection in the mirror. “what do you need to look so good for?”
“it makes me feel confident. we’ve been over this.”
“you’d make a trash bag look sexy, baby.”
you sigh, picking up your lipstick. “that’s nice of you to say, angel. but i’m not wearing a trash bag to the club.”
with a discontented sigh, he gets up from the bed and wraps his arm around your neck from behind your, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. that’s nicholas for you—always needy when it’s least convenient for you. “careful, baby,” you say gently. “i’m doing my lipstick.”
“i hate knowing other guys are going to see you like this.”
“who cares about other guys when it’s you i’m coming home to,” you say, probably word for word from the last time you went out without him. you’re coming off annoyed, but really, you love seeing him like this.
“i’m gonna miss you tonight,” he says, kissing your bare shoulder. it makes you shiver—he smirks at you in the mirror, fully aware of what he’s doing.
“i thought euijoo was coming over?” you ask, trying to keep your tone steady as your boyfriend kisses up your neck.
he hums. “still gonna miss you.”
then, without warning, he presses his lips to yours. “nicho!” you exclaim, leaning back. his grin is wicked as you check your reflection. “i’m gonna have to do my lip combo all over again.”
“fix it, baby. i’ll mess it up again.”
euijoo
you’re leaning toward the mirror, lips parted in concentration as you finish your makeup. euijoo has been watching from the doorway for a small while, arms crossed over his chest, a small, adoring smile on his lips. “you almost ready to go, baby?” he asks softly.
you nod. “yeah, just a minute.” you’re meeting his parents for the first time tonight at a fancy restaurant, and you want to make the best first impression possible. you’ve put it in your mind that your makeup needs to be perfect to do that. “do i look okay?” you ask, smoothing out your dress anxiously.
in a few steps, euijoo has crossed the distance between you, and plants himself behind you, one hand on your waist, the other brushing your hair behind your shoulder. he leans down to press a kiss to the crook of your neck. “you look gorgeous, as always. what are you so nervous about? i’ve only told them great things about you, they’ll love you.”
“i know, i just—i want them to think i’m worthy of you.”
he laughs light-heartedly. “worthy? baby, by the end of the evening they’ll probably wonder how i got you to date me.”
you pout, slowly letting yourself be soothed by your boyfriend’s words and gentle demeanor. “you really think?”
“of course. what can i do to ease your nerves?”
you recognize that tone—he wants something he won’t outright ask you for. but even if he doesn’t care, you won’t be late for your dinner plans. so instead of letting yourself melt into his touch, you offer your cheek to him. it’ll have to do for now.
euijoo smiles, pressing his soft lips to your cheek, and the simple touch has you relaxing already. but he presses another one, and another, progressively getting closer to your mouth—”not my lips, baby. i don’t want to mess up my lipstick.”
his lips find the corner of yours, and when he leans back, a little lip gloss shines on the corner of his lips. you shake your head, lightly admonishing him as you wipe the makeup up with your thumb. “juju…”
he only gazes down fondly at you. “you’re perfect,” he muses.
yuma
after months of being with yuma, you should know that whatever you tell him not to do, he’ll take as a challenge to do. really, it’s your fault for telling him not to distract you while you’re doing your makeup, and not to kiss you after you’ve applied your lipstick. you even give him a minute to get it all out of his system—but it only does the opposite. after the kiss, he’s even needier, clingy as he wraps his arms around your waist tightly, burying his face in your hair.
“don’t go,” he mumbles.
“it’s for work, baby, i don’t have a choice.”
“i can’t just kiss you for a minute,” he whines. “it’s not nearly enough.”
“you’ll have all the time you need when i come back, okay?”
he frowns at you in the mirror—changing his strategy from whiny to upset? in any case, it doesn’t work. you ignore his glare as you apply your lipgloss. he plants kisses along your neck, your jawline, but every time he tries to get near your lips, you lean away.
he huffs. “what’s the point of having lips so pretty if your boyfriend can’t even kiss them?”
“the one time i ask you not to kiss me, i swear,” you mumble. “you’re not going to die.”
he rests his hand on his heart, fakes a pained expression. “i just might.”
you push him away with your hip, tell him to leave you alone—you’re surprised when he actually does. he’s waiting for you in the hallway when you’re done. you think that maybe he’s matured when he helps you slip on the shoes he picked out for you, and are about to thank him when he stands and, before you can react, traps your lips in a kiss. not even just a peck that won’t do too much damage—a full-on mess of a kiss, tongue and all, his hands firm on your hips so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.
when he leans back, his grin is wickedly smug. “uh-oh, baby. i think you’re gonna have to redo your lipstick.”
jo
if you explicitly tell him not to, your perfect baby never messes up your makeup. he saw how long it took you to get your lip combo perfect before the party, so when you tell him, “no kisses, tonight,” he follows that rule to a tee.
it doesn’t mean he’s not desperate to kiss you, though. as you get ready together, he has to content himself with pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead, and stops himself from pouting when you can’t reciprocate. during the party, his eyes keep drifting to the lipstick staining the rim of your cup, and he’s always ready to wipe a smudge if you mess up your makeup while eating. he has the self-restraint of a saint when you use him instead of a mirror to reapply your lipgloss, dumbly nodding when you ask him whether it looks okay.
after the party, as you’re waiting outside for your uber, his jacket around your shoulders, he briefly wonders whether he should wait until you get home, then decides against it. you look so cute, slightly swaying on your feet from the wine you drank, a contented smile on your face, your hand warm in his. “can i kiss you, y/n?” he asks softly. you nod happily.
the feeling of his lips on yours is such a relief after waiting all night for it. by the time your uber arrives, he’s wearing as much lipstick as you are.
harua
“okay, baby, i’m off,” you call from the hallway, slipping on your shoes.
from his position on the couch, harua perks up. “aren’t you forgetting something?”
you look inside your purse. keys, phone, wallet. “nope, i’m all good.”
he frowns, then makes his way to you. arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, he says, “you sure about that?”
your features relax into a smile. “baby, i’m sorry, i can’t kiss you. i spent too long on this lip combo to mess it up.”
your boyfriend is unimpressed. he glares at you without a word.
you walk up to him, ruffle his hair. “i’ll give you all the kisses you want when i get home, okay?”
clearly, this isn’t good enough an offer. too quickly for you to react, he leans in, presses his lips to yours firmly. then, with a huff, he walks back to the couch. you check your lips in your front camera—the damage’s been done.
“haru!”
when you look at him, there’s a small smirk playing on his lips. you’d be mad at him if he wasn’t so adorable. “have fun, angel,” he says, plopping some chips inside his mouth.
taki
the entire time you’ve been getting ready, your boyfriend has been gazing longingly at you like a lovesick puppy. it’d be distracting if you weren’t so used to it—rare are the moments you spend together when at least his hands or his eyes aren’t on you. from when you chose your outfit to now, as you’re sitting at your vanity, lips parted as you apply your liner, he’s been laying on your shared bed, staring at you like you hung the stars in the night sky.
he’s been quiet this entire time, so when he starts making his way to you, telling you how pretty you look, you know he’s up to no good. before he’s even touched you, you warn, “taki, don’t. the tutor is so strict, i can’t be late for this class.”
“who said anything about making you late?” he asks, a playful smirk on his lips as his hands find your shoulders, your hair. he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “i just wanted to admire you from up close.”
“you can do that without bothering me.”
he looks at you like a wounded puppy. you roll your eyes—you know taki isn’t really offended, he just likes to pretend he is so you’ll baby him. “fine. one kiss, okay? just one. and on my cheek.”
you shouldn’t have been so trusting. your boyfriend holds your head steady as he plants his kiss to your cheek, but of course, he doesn’t stop there. as you try to squirm away from him, he peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, your chin, your nose, your forehead, and, eventually, your lips.
he grins proudly, admiring his work in the mirror—the lip gloss on his lips, the smudges around yours. “thanks a lot, taki,” you mumble.
“the pleasure is all mine, babe.”
maki
you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap in front of your vanity as you apply the final traces of lipstick for you lip combo. you’re both staring at your reflection in the mirror, you in concentration, him in quiet, lovesick adoration. you’re apart for one evening and he’s acting like it’s the end of the world. his big arms feel warm and reassuring around your body, his chin a welcome weight on your shoulder, but if you told him how much harder he’s making it to go out without him, he’d find a million reasons for you to stay in. however, you can’t bail on bottomless brunch with your girls.
“i get that girlhood is important and all, but surely us boyfriends could tag along once in a while?” he mumbles, pouting against your shoulder.
you smile. “we can’t gossip about you guys if you’re here.”
he gasps dramatically. “you gossip about me? what do you say?”
you ignore him as you lean forward, admiring your work. satisfied with yourself, you shift on maki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “how do i look?”
his features soften into a fond smile. “perfect, baby.”
when he leans in for a kiss, you tut at him. “nuh-uh. i’m not letting you mess up my lip combo.”
he raises an eyebrow. “oh?”
suddenly, his hold on you tightens—you try to squirm out of his arms, but he’s too strong for you. “no! maki!” you exclaim, giggling.
he peppers kisses all over your lips, and by the time he’s done, there’s more lipstick on his lips than on yours. you sigh as you check your makeup in the mirror. “great, i have to do it all over again now.”
he’s grinning wickedly, returning to his position with his chin on your shoulder like he hasn’t done anything. “and i get one more minute with you.”
🌊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”
❥° • ° ・° ┈┈┈┈┈༚༅༚˳ . ୨୧ . ˳༚༅༚┈┈┈┈ ° ・ ° • °❥
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.
❥° • ° ・° ┈┈┈┈┈༚༅༚˳ . ୨୧ . ˳༚༅༚┈┈┈┈ ° ・ ° • °❥
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.
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.”
