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pascalispimp · 2 months ago

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Whiskey Bent and Heaven Bound

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: She’s been riding his nerves for years, but when she waltzes into his bar in that little dress, pushing every damn button, Joel’s patience snaps. One jealous glare, one bar fight, and one heated moment against his truck later—he’s finally got his hands on the one thing he was never supposed to have. She may be forbidden, but tonight, she’s his to break.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, dbf fic, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, degradation, praise kink.

Word count: 3.5k

Joel Miller had never been a patient man.

Life had never given him the luxury of it. He had worked with his hands since he was young, learned early on that the world didn’t give second chances. He was a man of discipline, a man who knew how to keep his head down and his wants buried.

But she was making it damn near impossible.

She had been a teenager the first time he met her, trailing after her father, all wide eyes and laughter, running barefoot in the summer heat. He had watched her grow up, watched her turn into the kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees.

And now, she was back.

Older. Smarter. Dangerous.

She had always been off-limits. The daughter of his best friend, the one woman in the world he had no right to want. But she was making it impossible not to want her.

It had been easy to tease him, to poke at that ironclad patience of his and see ifshe could get a reaction. A lingering touch here, a too-sweet smile there. Watching the way his jaw clenched every time she called him Mr. Miller in that honeyed voice just to watch his ears turn red.

But no matter how much she pushed, Joel never broke.

Miller’s was packed, bodies moving, voices loud, music twanging through the air.

Joel had been behind the bar all night, pouring drinks, barely listening to the conversations around him. He had been doing a good job of keeping his mind on work, on anything but her.

Until she walked in.

The air seemed to shift, a pull in his gut that made his grip tighten around the glass in his hand.

And then he saw her.

That pretty little dress clung to her, the hem swaying just high enough to make his throat go dry. The cowboy boots only made it worse, giving her the perfect mix of sweet and wild, like she belonged there, like she wasn’t trying at all.

Except he knew she was. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her gaze found his across the room, and a slow smile curved her lips.

His gaze dragged over her, slow and deliberate, before snapping back up to her face. He looked pissed.

Good.

Smiling to herself, she let her friends pull her toward the bar, where Joel was still watching, still brooding. She leaned against the counter, resting her elbows on the wood, waiting for him to say something.

He didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed a glass and poured her a drink, sliding it across the bar without a word.

“Not gonna say hello?” she teased.

Joel kept his gaze on the glass in her hands. “You ain’t supposed to be in here.”

She tilted her head. “Since when?”

“Since you started struttin’ around like you want trouble.”

She let out a soft hum, dragging her fingers along the rim of the glass he had just poured for her. “Maybe I do.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

She was doing it again—pushing, testing, seeing how far she could go before he snapped.

“Not tonight,” he muttered.

“Not tonight what?”

His jaw clenched even harder, his teeth grinding.

She leaned in just a little, voice soft, sweet, coaxing. “You don’t like my dress, Mr. Miller?”

Joel exhaled sharply. “You think this is a game?”

Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to grin. Joel had to look away before he did something stupid, something reckless.

Like pull her across the damn bar and show her exactly how much he liked that dress.

The night carried on, the bar growing louder as the drinks flowed. She was laughing with her friends, sipping her whiskey slow, when she felt it—

A hand.

Not Joel’s.

Rough fingers slid along her lower back, dipping too low, too familiar. She tensed, turning sharply to find a man standing too close, grinning like he had a right to touch her.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, breath heavy with beer.

She moved to step back, but he caught her wrist, holding on just tight enough to make her stomach twist.

“Let go,” She said, voice cool.

He laughed. “Aw, don’t be like that.”

Then, all at once, he was gone.

Yanked back so hard he stumbled, nearly falling on his ass.

Joel.

He was furious.

She had never seen him like this, not even when he was arguing with her dad about football scores or fixing some busted-up truck in the heat of summer. This was different.

Dangerous.

His hand was wrapped around the man’s wrist, squeezing so tight she could see the strain in his forearm.

“I told you,” Joel said, voice low, steady, lethal. “Get your goddamn hands off her.”

The man tried to laugh it off, but Joel yanked him forward just enough to make his breath hitch.

“You touch her again, I will break your fuckin’ hand.”

Dead silence.

The man swallowed, eyes darting around the room, looking for anyone who might step in. But no one did.

They knew better than to cross Joel Miller.

He let go, shoving the guy backward. “Get the hell out of my bar.”

The man didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even look at her again. Just turned and left, tail tucked between his legs. And then Joel turned to her.

“Outside. Now.”

"Lets go," he barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the bar like a knife. The other men gathered around her table with protested, but Joel's icy glare sent them retreating faster than a coyote with its tail between its legs. She was still taken aback by his sudden aggression, but didn't struggle as he practically dragged her out of the bar and to his truck.

He didn’t stop until they reached his truck, the metal cool against her back as he crowded into her space.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he growled.

Her pulse was racing, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I wasn’t doin’ anything.”

Joel exhaled sharply, his hands braced against the truck on either side of her. His body was close, heat rolling off him in waves.

“You been runnin’ me in circles since you got back,” he muttered. “Wearin’ these little dresses, givin’ me that damn smile, callin’ me—”

She licked her lips, voice soft. “Mr. Miller?”

Joel groaned. His fingers flexed against the truck, like he was fighting every instinct in his body to keep from touching her.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’, girl.”

She tilted her head, her lips a breath away from his. “What if I do?”

Silence.

Thick, heavy, charged.

Joel’s hand came up before he could stop himself, rough fingers tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Her breath hitched.

“Joel—”

He kissed her. It was desperate, all fire and hunger, years of restraint snapping like a damn rope pulled too tight.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her against the truck. She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, claiming her.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, like she wanted to crawl inside him, like she had been waiting for this just as long as he had.

Joel lifted her onto the edge of the tailgate, his grip firm on her thighs. Her dress rode up, exposing soft, smooth skin against the rough denim of his jeans.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, breathing ragged.

“You sure about this?”

She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back in. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Joel groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She smiled, breathless. “Then at least you’ll die happy.”

His control shattered.

He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, and this time, he didn’t stop.

He opened the door of his truck and threw her into the backseat, the leather cool against her bare skin. He didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations; he knew she was playing with fire, and it was high time she felt the burn. His eyes raked over her, taking in every curve and freckle that made her uniquely her. She met his gaze, a mix of defiance and curiosity in her own eyes. He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, and whispered, "You've been asking for this all night, darlin'."

Her heart raced as he climbed in beside her, the weight of his body pressing her into the seat. The smell of his cologne, leather, and something uniquely Joel filled the small space, making her head spin. His rough hands began to roam, tracing the lines of her body as if they were an ancient map, each touch setting her skin alight. Her own hands found his beard, and she pulled his face closer, feeling the prickle against her cheek. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that was as fierce as it was possessive. She could feel his hunger, his need to claim her as his own.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with lust, and grabbed his hat from the front seat. "Wear it," he grunted, placing it on her head. The brim shadowed her face, making her feel a mix of excitement and naughtiness. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her in his cowboy hat, a stark contrast to the bratty persona she had been putting on all night. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

With surprising gentleness, Joel pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her ample breasts that bounced free, the cool air making her nipples tighten into delicious little buds. He took one in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hands found there way under her dress, tracing her soft thighs. She gasped, arching her back, the fabric of the hat brushing against her neck as she reached for him. Her hands roamed over his muscular chest, feeling the strength beneath.

Her own dress was quickly discarded, leaving her in just her lacy panties. He groaned, taking in the sight of her. His own desire was evident, pressing against the fabric of his jeans, but he took his time, savoring the moment. He reached down and slid her panties off, tossing them aside. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured against her skin as he kissed his way down her body.

He settled between her legs, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, her pussy glistening with want. "So sweet," he whispered, his voice gruff with desire. He dipped his head and licked her, a long, slow stroke that made her moan. She was already close, her body tightening with every flick of his tongue. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through her. "You're eager, aren't you?"

Joel didn't wait for an answer; he feasted on her, his tongue delving into her depths, lapping up her sweetness. She squirmed beneath him, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she pushed herself closer to his mouth. "You taste like heaven," he murmured, his breath tickling her clit. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he worked her over with his mouth, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin.

The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter within her until she couldn't take it anymore. She shuddered, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado, leaving her panting and trembling in its wake. He looked up at her, a smug smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, you've been teasing me for so long, let's see if you can handle the real deal."

With a swiftness that belied his size, Joel stripped off his clothes, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the truck's cabin. He was a vision of raw masculinity, a stark contrast to the gentle care he had taken with her moments before. He grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, his erection pressing against her soaked pussy. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. She didn't hesitate, sliding down onto him, feeling him fill her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, and he watched as she adjusted to his size, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to move. Joel's hands found her hips, guiding her movements, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin. "Look at me," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. She obeyed, her eyes locking with his, and he could see the trust, the need, the desire all swirling together in their depths.

He leaned back against the seat, watching her ride him with a fierce determination that sent bolts of pleasure through his body. The hat sat askew on her head, her hair a wild mess around her face, and she had never looked more beautiful. His grip tightened on her hips, urging her to go faster, deeper. "Take what you want from me, darlin'. Show me what you've been hiding from me all these years."

Her movements grew more frantic, her breasts bouncing with every bounce, her moans filling the space around them. Joel could feel his own climax building, the base of his spine tingling with the promise of release. He leaned forward, capturing one of her nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle bite that made her gasp and ride him harder. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark rumble in his chest. "You're going to make me come sweet girl."

The words seemed to spur her on, and she began to grind down on him with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons that would likely bruise by morning. But Joel didn't care. All he could focus on was the exquisite pleasure she was giving him, the way her pussy clenched around his cock with every movement she made. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

With a growl, he flipped their positions, her back now pressed against the cool leather of the seat. He was relentless, pumping into her with a force that made the truck rock slightly. His hands found her breasts again, kneading them roughly as he claimed her mouth in another bruising kiss. She could feel his dominance, his need to possess her, and it only made her wetter.

Joel's hand slipped down between them, his calloused fingers finding her clit. He began to rub it in time with his thrusts, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She moaned into his mouth, her nails now digging into his back, her body begging for more. "Cum for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in her ear. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."

Her walls tightened around him, and she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. With a cry, she shattered, her orgasm tearing through her like a wildfire, consuming every part of her being. Joel followed her over the edge, his own release hot and powerful as he buried himself deep within her. They stayed there, locked together, for several long moments, their breathing the only sound in the quiet parking lot.

When he finally pulled out, she could feel the emptiness he left behind, both physically and emotionally. He didn't say a word as he tucked himself back into his pants, his movements efficient and practiced. She watched him, her chest heaving, the hat still perched on her head. It felt strange now, a symbol of what had just transpired between them.

Joel reached for a pack of cigarettes from the dashboard, lighting one up with a shaky hand. He took a long drag, the tip glowing red in the darkness before he turned to her. "You know, you've been playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You can't just tease a man like that and not expect consequences."

She sat up, her breath still coming in ragged gasps, the hat slipping slightly on her head. "I know," she whispered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

Joel's expression was unreadable, his eyes hooded as he took another drag of his cigarette. He beckoned her closer with a crook of his finger, his voice a soft rumble. "Come here, darlin'." She complied, sliding over to him, the leather of the seat sticking slightly to her skin. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, the hat still perched on her head.

The warmth of his embrace was a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air that had seeped into the truck. His heart thudded against her ear, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of her own. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent, a mix of sweetness and sex that was uniquely hers. "You know your daddy's going to kill me if he ever finds out about this," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, the sound a little shaky, and snuggled closer to him. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I won't tell." Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her touch. The gravity of their situation settled on her, the reality of what they had just done heavy in the air between them.

"You're mine now," Joel said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "All those pretty dresses you wear, all for me to peel off." He reached down and picked up her discarded panties, holding them up with a smirk. "And these," he added, tucking them into his pocket, "are mine now."

She looked up at him, the hat tilting slightly to the side. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

"I'm saying," Joel began, his eyes dark and intense, "that from now on, every time you wear those little dresses that drive me wild, it's my cock you're thinking about. Every time you spread your legs for anyone else, you're going to remember whose cock you really want." He took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze never leaving hers. "And when I say no one else gets to taste you, darlin', I mean it."

Her heart fluttered at his possessive words, a thrill of fear and excitement racing through her veins. "But, Joel, my dad—"

"I don't care about your daddy," he cut her off, his voice firm. "You're mine, and I'm not sharing." His eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for argument. "You'll wear those dresses, keep 'em guessing, but they'll never know what's hidden beneath. They won't get to taste what's mine."

He took her hand and placed it over his heart, the steady beat beneath his palm a declaration of his ownership. "You're not just a pretty face in a short dress anymore. You're mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to fuck." He leaned in, his breath a warm caress on her neck. "And when you wear that hat," his voice grew gruffer, "you're riding the cowboy."

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The weight of his words was intoxicating, a heady blend of fear and desire that had her knees trembling. She knew the rules had changed, the line she'd been toeing all night had been crossed, and there was no turning back. "I won't let anyone else have me, I'm yours," she murmured, her voice a soft promise that seemed to vibrate through him.

Joel's grip on her tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You'd better not," he warned, his tone playful yet laced with a hint of seriousness that made her stomach flip. He leaned in and kissed her again, a kiss that spoke of ownership and passion. His hand found her bare thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Every time you wear one of those dresses, I'll know that underneath, you'll be dripping full of me, my cum will make sure it says 'property of Joel Miller.'"

The thought made her blush, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her hand sliding down to his crotch, feeling him harden again. "Only for you," she murmured, her voice a siren's call in the quiet night.

He groaned, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, let's get you dressed and back inside before anyone starts asking questions." He helped her into her clothes, his movements almost tender. As she adjusted her dress she couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, knowing that she'd be giving up the thrill of the chase. But the look in Joel's eyes told her that the real fun was just beginning.

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meo-eiru · 4 months ago

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Day 6 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Micah

Micah is an only child with a mother and a father

He grew up in a small town and his parents were upper-middle class in town standards

They were very religious and paid a lot of attention to always appearing proper. They wouldn't wear the same outfits two days in a row and made sure their clothes were always perfectly ironed

His dad was quite strict with him, not allowing him to play outside and crease his clothes, and made sure he attended church regularly

Micah was never really interested in playing with the other kids so he didn't particularly care about the rules

Even as a child he was aware he was prettier and smarter than most kids around, he was also very apathetic towards others. He didn't particularly care about them but enjoyed when they praised and looked up to him so kept the good boy act

His one joy was growing flowers, because unlike humans flowers are not annoying. If he takes good care of a flower it'll grow up and bloom like planned, it won't betray his plans. Its life is on his hands, if he decides to cut it it'll die, and if he decides to stop watering it it'll shrivel

His parents weren't very into the idea of him taking care of their garden but after seeing he wasn't giving up and that he actually made it look prettier they gave in

He was later on sent to the capital to further his education, joining the cathedral and quickly becoming a high priest

Even away from his parents he continued to live following their teachings. He would wear clean and well ironed clothes, he usually preferred loose fitting ones that didn't show much skin

He also started growing his hair to the possible displeasure of his father, he enjoyed taking care of it and keeping it clean. He naturally had very thick strands but his hair was still very soft

He also quite enjoying coffee, especially with some light sweets accompanying it. Thanks you that he ended up being quite good at brewing coffee and baking low sugar cakes

He was popular with men and women alike thanks to his angelic appearance and polite personality, receiving letters of affection not only from people inside the cathedral but those who simply came to visit it

Soon enough he was more well known than the actual bishop amongst the common people

He didn't really care about ranking up more and taking on the bishop role, he actually enjoyed the fact that he was better liked even as someone of lower status which made the actual bishop quite furious

He was eventually sent to work at a church in a nearby town by the bishop who did not enjoy seeing him around, not that Micah cared. The town was small but clean and well taken care of, he could just live quietly while being adored by those around

He was greeted with many cheers upon his arrival to the church, his fame traveling ahead of him

He greeted everyone and introduced himself, not caring to pay too much attention to the stuff they told him

Around his third day at the church, as he was passing by the inner garden he heard the sounds of giggling

Two nuns in training, seemingly enjoying a conversation between themselves

Micah could hear what they were talking about but somehow it all felt like blank noise, not registering. The weather was nice, he could feel a warm breeze flowing through his hair. The sunlight was just right, making his skin warm and fuzzy but not to the point of making him sweat. He could hear the chirps of birds mixing with their giggles. Everything was so nice, so nice and so clear, and Micah was just standing there. He was just standing there and looking at the nun he seemingly had never noticed before. Was the sky always so blue and full of life?

It wasn't too hard finding more about you as you were on good terms with most people around. He quickly learned that you were a faithful child of god, that your family was quite poor and that you wanted to become a nun in hopes of earning money to help your family

The day he first approached you was an exciting day for you. He's THE Micah after all, anyone would be excited. He was so nice and so easy to talk to, before you knew it you were crying about your struggles and pains as he gently hugged you

You really liked him, he would always listened to your problems so patiently and offer you solutions. With him you felt so seen

At first it started small, Micah bought you the dress you've been eyeing for so long. Then it started getting bigger, he would sometimes directly give you money, telling you to go buy whatever you need

He was like an angel, truly a good person. You thought he must be a savior sent by god to make your pains go away

And so you trusted him, how could you not? He was such a good person, and everyone knew just how good he was. And you continued trusting him when he called you to his chambers late at nights, you trusted him when he locked the door behind you, you trusted him when he was being just a bit too close for your liking

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Micah didn't care about how many weeds he had to cut off to make one flower bloom the way he wants it to bloom. At the end of the day it's the flower he wanted, and his flower has the prettiest petals when he holds it in his hands

#micah #yandere priest #yandere priest x reader #yandere #male yandere #tw non con #tw noncon #tw religion #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #oc #my oc #yandere oc #yandere original character #original yandere #original character

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angelaness · 29 days ago

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020525

Cycle Syncing 101: How to Stop Fighting Your Body and Start Flowing (🌚) With It

alright girls, gather ‘round. this is the full post i promised - the one about periods, moods, energy, and how to actually live in sync with your cycle instead of feeling like a chaotic mess every month. because once i started tracking and understanding my cycle… it changed everything. for real. my workouts, my eating, my planning, my self-talk all became softer, smarter, more strategic. so let's break it down.

your menstrual cycle has 4 main phases, and each one brings its own vibe, mood, superpowers, and kryptonite. when you know which phase you’re in, you stop blaming yourself and start working with your body, not against it. ready?

1. Menstrual Phase (Bleeding / Days 1–5ish)

Vibe: hibernation queen. inward. reflective.

Body: hormones (estrogen + progesterone) are at their lowest = low energy, fatigue, cramps, sensitivities.

Mind: introspective, quiet, intuitive. this is your “truth-telling” time.

What to do:

Exercise: restorative yoga, stretching, slow walks. if you need to skip your workout? skip it. your body is doing enough.

Food: iron-rich foods (spinach, lentils, beef, dark chocolate), warm meals like soups and stews. magnesium-rich snacks can help with cramps.

Routines: go slow. journal. say no to extra plans. light candles. wear comfy clothes. treat yourself like you're sacred.

Study/work: focus on review, reflecting on past tasks, journaling ideas. let your brain rest a bit—don’t force deep concentration.

Self-care: warm baths, heat pads, soft music, no loud people.

Mental tip: you’re bleeding out the past month. literally. let go of what didn’t serve you. Zdont feel guilty.

2. Follicular Phase (Post-period / Days 6–13ish)

Vibe: fresh start. springtime energy. main character in a coming-of-age film.

Body: estrogen rises. energy builds. skin glows. you feel light, optimistic, social.

Mind: creative, motivated, open to new ideas.

What to do:

Exercise: try something new—dance, pilates, running, gym sessions. you’ll feel strong and energetic.

Food: fresh and light—greens, fermented foods, seeds, citrus. boost that metabolism.

Routines: this is your reset phase. declutter. plan your week/month. start new habits. your brain wants structure right now.

Study/work: brainstorm, start new projects, prep for heavy tasks ahead. your memory and focus are sharper.

Self-care: vision boards, hair masks, cute outfits. say yes to life.

Mental tip: this is your most productive phase. take advantage but don’t overbook. pace yourself.

3. Ovulation Phase (Middle of Cycle / Days 14–16ish)

Vibe: glowing goddess. seductive. unstoppable.

Body: estrogen peaks, testosterone joins the party. libido spikes. you’re magnetic and bold.

Mind: communicative, charming, high-confidence. great time to network or confront someone (with love, of course).

What to do:

Exercise: go hard—HIIT, lifting, cardio, group workouts. you’ve got power and endurance.

Food: fiber-rich foods (quinoa, carrots, berries) and antioxidants. hydrate well.

Routines: do your “hard” things here—presentations, big meetings, social stuff, shooting your shot.

Study/work: speak, pitch, debate. you’ve got clarity + persuasion.

Self-care: romanticize yourself. take hot pics, go out, flirt with life.

Mental tip: your confidence is real. don’t downplay it. enjoy this phase but stay grounded.

4. Luteal Phase (Pre-period / Days 17–28ish)

Vibe: cozy but moody. nesting energy.

Body: progesterone rises after ovulation. if no pregnancy happens, hormones start to drop = PMS hits.

Mind: detail-focused, critical, sensitive. easily overstimulated.

What to do:

Exercise: lower the intensity. pilates, strength training, long walks. listen to your body.

Food: complex carbs (sweet potatoes, oats), calming teas, B6-rich foods (bananas, salmon). eat more often to manage cravings + blood sugar dips.

Routines: finish tasks. organize. clean your space. prep for your period like you’d prep for a storm—lovingly.

Study/work: editing, detail work, wrapping up loose ends. less is more.

Self-care: limit caffeine, go offline if needed, soothe your senses.

Mental tip: don’t trust every thought. the inner critic is loud but not always right. softness wins here.

General Tips:

Track your cycle: use apps like Clue, Flo, or just a paper calendar. know when each phase starts so you can plan smarter.

Plan around your phases: big goals in follicular/ovulation, rest + review in menstrual/luteal.

Cycle syncing ≠ perfection: life doesn’t always let you live like a hormone princess. do what you can. forgive what you can't.

Be kind to yourself: if your body is low-energy, that’s not laziness—it’s biology. honor it.

Final Thoughts:

nobody told us this. nobody said “hey, your whole system is a monthly pattern, learn the rhythm and life gets easier.” instead, we got shame, pain, and whispers. but no more. now we know better. and syncing your life to your cycle is not about being soft—it’s about being smart. strategic. in tune.

girlhood isn’t chaos, insanity, it’s coded. and when you read the code, you stop feeling like a mess and start feeling like magic.

if you made it this far, you’re already syncing, baby.

go be soft when you need, strong when it calls, and sacred always💕

#girlblogging #angelaness #diary entry #menstrual cycle #this is a girlblog #tips #motivation #girlblog aesthetic #wonyoungism #that girl #glow up #it girl #pink pilates princess

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cheralith · 2 months ago

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APARTMENT 345 — EP TWO : WEDDINGS

feat. karasu, otoya, yukimiya || wc: 9.4k synopsis: moving into a new apartment with three men isn't exactly the most easy feat, but you think there's something quite unusual about your new roommates that makes life seem a little more fun. ↳ episode synopsis: when otoya asks you to be his plus-one for a wedding, you find out that there's more than him that meets the eye. so much so, that it somehow wounds you accidentally locked in a bathroom alone together. contains: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, roommates au, modern au, fluff, slight crack, forced proximity, reader wears a dress and heels, subtle classism, family issues series masterlist ☚ previous next☛

Otoya Eita is a curious case of someone who you suspect isn’t who he seems to be.

Something bugs you about him, something gnawing in a little crevice of your mind. Perhaps it’s that seemingly nonchalant exterior that you think is a little too lax for someone with adult responsibilities like him. Or maybe the way he’s much smarter than you think he was initially. Something of the sort, there’s a lot of peculiarities about him that just don’t seem to add up to what he thinks he’s trying to convey to you.

He says he earns the least out of the four of you—yet he owns a Lexus, multiple expensive colognes, and he’ll show off some new pieces of Chrome Hearts or David Yurman he bought. You figure that one watch of his is at least a third of your salary.

He says he’s not looking for something serious in a relationship—yet you’ve seen him wallow in his misery a few times when some girls wouldn’t call him back. Then he’ll get back up in a matter of two days or less to find someone new to play with.

He says he can't pay the rent this month to you and your other roommates dismay—yet he somehow always pulls through with the money at the last minute to a mysterious degree. Where he gets it from, you think you’re better off not knowing… especially since you’ve eavesdropped on a few of his conversations with someone shady on the phone, asking about a boon of some kind.

Otoya, to you, at least from a few months ago, was the most open roommate out of the other three. Now, you’re not so sure. Unlike Karasu and Yukimiya, who have gotten closer and more amicable as times went on, Otoya seems to have shut himself in with you to your dismay in the past weeks, despite him being the first roommate you were truly comfortable around. He seems to be an enigma to you more than anyone you’ve ever met—you don’t know how to decode him. And to be honest, you’re not sure if you should. Maybe you’re best placed in this pool of ignorance you’ve been trying to get out of to understand your roommate, absorbing it and letting it linger around you.

He has this outer layer to him; a mask of a seemingly chill guy who goes with the flow, someone who lays back and lets life do its work for him. He’ll just simply follow along wherever the wind takes him.

But something eats at you, that gnawing feeling always just lingering about. A gut feeling whispers in your ear that there’s something deeper, more intrinsic about him. You’ve acknowledged the suspicion, but you’re not too sure if you should try and operate on Otoya to properly pluck out his brain. After all, there might just be nothing there and you’ve been paranoid this entire time. Maybe it’s best just to stay out of his business (though, you sometimes find it hard not to, especially when you sometimes find him talking to someone on the phone with pinched brows when you enter the apartment, only for him to hang up the call when he notices you, his default face placing back onto his visage.).

And you’ve been doing a good job at it. Until now, when an opportunity presents itself for you to prod your nose around the hidden secrets of Otoya Eita. All because of an extended wedding invitation from him.

“I need a plus-one from my cousin’s wedding next Saturday,” he had said to you a week prior, scratching the back of his neck lazily. “I’d ask Tabito or Kenyu, but uh. I don’t want my folks to get the wrong impression, ya know?”

You had snorted under your breath, laughing, but said yes without thinking of the consequences at the time. It was only yesterday that it hit you that you’d be meeting Otoya’s family despite only knowing him for a few months whilst nothing absolutely nothing about Otoya’s personal life despite what he gave to you, much less what kind of people his family were.

So you ran to Karasu, who had known him the longest, and in a panic, asked him what sort of people they were. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much help, only giving you a sheepish smile and telling you, “They’re quite the weirdos, ‘s all I’ll say—at least from when I met ‘em. Sorry, sugar.”

When you asked Yukimiya, you ran into the same dead end. The brunette also only gave you a pitiful look. “Just try not to talk to them too much. The less you know, the better.”

Their responses did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it amplified the apprehension from twice it was before. You wish you felt it earlier in the week, however, since that at least allowed you more ample time to actually buy a better dress than this dusty rag that you had worn for a friend’s garden party a few years back.

You think this is the longest you’ve stared at yourself in the mirror that you’re becoming an eyesore to yourself. The baby pink dress with puffed short sleeves and layered tulle feels out of date; it’s weird around your waist and just doesn’t seem very elegant for the type of wedding Otoya had described. Too casual, too childish.

A knock comes at your door suddenly.

From the door reveals a dressed-up Otoya Eita before you, uncharacteristically sharp in his crisp grey-black suit and pistachio green tie. His hair is parted neatly, his bangs usually grazing his face now pushed to the side to show the entirety of his features.

A smirk displays itself on your face. “Someone looks rather handsome.”

Otoya hums with satisfaction at your approval, taking a singular finger and dragging it along his jawline. Something called mogging, if you call correctly. “It all comes naturally to me.”

He lets himself in your room, whistling at your messy bedroom littered with disarrayed clothing that you were trying to pluck out and make a nice arrangement with. “A little birdie told me you were having trouble choosing an outfit.”

Your shoulders droop when you spot yourself in your mirror again, your dress looking like it was just plastered on you rather than fitting you.

“I’m assuming my groans of despair were louder than I thought they were,” you sigh despondently, hands attempting to try and fiddle with the layers of the dress so it seems right at least in the mirror.

“I know you said to dress nice, but this is all I have…” you turn to Otoya, who curiously pinches one of your business dresses in his fingers. “I’m sorry, I would’ve totally gone shopping sooner had I known it’d be a big deal.”

Otoya gently places down the dress and turns to you with a barely-visible quirk of his lips. “It’s not bad but I might have something else in mind that might help ease your mind.”

He excuses himself out of the room and returns back not even a moment later with a large white zippered bag hung by a hanger. It’s thick and padded, clearly a bit of weight to it. You’re a little appalled, not expecting Otoya to go out of the way and quite literally get you a dress of his own means. But this also meant that if Otoya was doing more than what he was used to, swaying from his normal route of winging it and actually doing proper preparation for this, it ultimately meant that this was a much bigger event than you anticipated it to be. And you surely had to be ready to size yourself up for such a manner.

Otoya delicately places it on the mountain of clothes on your messy bed, carefully unzipping the bag to reveal a magnificent, floor-length, pear green sequined dress that reflected light so elegantly, it almost created a natural spotlight on itself. Held by thin straps, the chest area was highlighted from all the sequined and carefully-placed cherry blossoms speckling about that brought out a certain uniqueness to the dress. It looked preciously handmade, as you think no machine could delicately craft such petals from fabric and sequins.

It was magnificent and mature, something that clearly contrasted with your current dress. You couldn’t deny that Otoya had great taste when it came to fashion, both for men and women it seems, only second-best next to Yukimiya, though he came damn close to taking over his position on the podium.

You gasp aloud at it, clearly impressed at its meticulousness.

Otoya holds it up by its hanger, showing its full glory to you. “I’m really hoping it’s your size, but d’you like it? You wanna try it on?”

“I—” you falter. The dress was just so elegant that you don’t think someone like you should be adorning it; it was clearly fit for someone more high-class like a socialite or an actress. “Where did you even get this?”

He shrugs, nonchalant as ever. “Bought it on my way home yesterday. Thought you might want to wear it as a backup just in case.”

“I’m really hoping this is a rental,” you worry about, biting at your fingernail. Something seems rather ominous about all those sequins flashing about, like they’re warning you not to touch such preciosity. “How much was this?”

“Mmh, not telling,” Otoya says and slips the dress off its hanger to your panic. “Just know I’ve got it covered.”

You frown.

“Rent’s coming up soon,” you warn, “so if I find out you chucked some money out the window just for a mere dress, you’ve got a storm coming, bud.”

Otoya chuckles fondly. “Relax. I already gave my stuff early, so don’t stress about it anymore and just try it on.”

Ignoring your protests, he forces the dress in your hands and makes his way out, waving his fingers as he leaves you in the desolation of your room.

A pull of his neck releases the tension from it, rhythmic cracks from bones echoing in the hallway your room was located from. Otoya sighs, the weight on his shoulders heaving down on him more than ever today that he hopes will expel from himself once this day is over.

He feels bad, dragging you into this mess. But Otoya thinks that he can’t handle the masses by himself, he needs some sort of stabilizer, someone to help him keep on his feet. Karasu and Yukimiya knew about everything already, so they knew about the trials and tribulations that he faced back then, and clearly didn’t want to go through them again. He couldn’t drag someone from his roster either—he didn’t even know half of their last names.

It wasn’t his fault you just happened to be right there. With your grace and presence, you were the perfect person to have at his side for those hours he’s going to have to face head-on. All he has to do is just pivot his attention to you, knowing that it’ll be his that you’ll be yearning for as well in a room of strangers. It was an equal exchange.

Still. Even though you’ll be at his side, it doesn’t shake off the unease that lingers about.

Otoya settles himself on the couch, feeling tension stiffen his joints again. A warning sign to expect the worst, he assumes. Whatever. It’s just a few hours. He’ll reset and return back to normal in no time. This too shall pass, or whatever bullshit Yukimiya spews.

He cracks his neck again, making Karasu, who sits lazily next to him, cringe.

“Don’t do that near me,” he mutters, averting his attention to the soccer match on the TV. “Freaks me out.”

“It’s just bones, don’t think your two-hundred six are any different from mine,” Otoya insists, going to crack his knuckles to Karasu’s displeasure.

In the corner of the couch, Yukimiya throws some popcorn from a bowl in his mouth, grinning when he sees such a dapper Otoya in front of him. “You look good. For once.”

Otoya mopes, a light offense grazing him. “‘For once?’”

Yukimiya shrugs, still stupidly smiling. “Guess you wanted to look good for (Y/N).”

He frowns.

“This is a wedding. Why wouldn’t I try to look good?” Otoya remarks, clearly unamused. He’s not sure if he’s up for a childish banter right now, not when he’s got too much on his plate.

Karasu snickers at his appearance. Normally it was him and Yukimiya that looked rather tidy in their outerwear, so it came as comical to see the person who donned himself in the first clean thing he blindly plucked from his closet to be adorned in such fashion. “Took some money outta yer trust fund to get that suit o’yers, huh?” he slyly asks, nudging Otoya with his elbow.

Otoya rolls his eyes. “I’ve always had this, dumbass,” he insists with folded arms. “I just don’t like to wear it unless I have to.”

Yukimiya is next to chortle. “Maybe he used the money to buy (Y/N) that dress. Looked pretty expensive to me.”

Otoya thins his lips. Then looks away, the tip of his ears revealed by his slicked hair dusted with red.

Karasu and Yukimiya clearly take notice of his reaction that clearly can’t guise a lie even if Otoya tried to create one, bursting out into laughter when they make eye contact with one another.

“Aw, lookit this loverboy over here!” Karasu hollers and grabs Otoya by the neck, making him wince at Karasu's strength. “Didn’t know ya liked her that much!”

“I don’t…” Otoya grits his teeth, “I just… wanted to get her something nice.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Yukimiya cackles and lightly kicks at Otoya whilst he throws some popcorn his way, speckles of yellow-white fireworking over the living room floor. “Get your non-girlfriend plus-one a real fancy dress out of the blue, yeah? How much did it cost Prince Charming?”

Otoya sighs. “You idiots can’t decipher the fact that this is all for a wedding, can you?” he states with a flat voice. “You both know how my family is… I just don’t want her—”

Heels click softly suddenly, a shy pattering coming from the hallway.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but…” your voice breaks through the playful atmosphere, making all the men pause and look in your direction. “Er, sorry Otoya. Is this how it’s supposed to fit?”

Three spotlights turn to you from the coach from your roommates at once, suddenly drenching you in shyness at such vapid attention. Otoya is stunned at what he sees, breath hitching slightly when you present yourself before them.

He has to give himself a pat on the back because not only does the dress fit you right, it fits you so perfectly that it looks like it was made just for you. You’re going to blend in perfectly, he thinks.

Otoya abruptly stands up from the couch, clearing his throat and sending a soft smile your way—a rare feat considering how stony Otoya’s face could be.

“Fits like a glove on you, babe,” he compliments.

You warmly smile at him, relieved. Karasu and Yukimiya glance at each other, suppressing some teasing smirks, shoulders shaking.

The clock is ticking, and Otoya figures that you and him have to get to the venue soon before traffic starts. You wrap up some last minute adjustments to your outfit before you and him bid Karasu and Yukimiya goodbye with a wave.

“Get us some goodies if they’re offerin’ any!” Karasu shouts.

“Give my warm wishes to the couple!” Yukimiya calls out just as Otoya closes the door.

His sedan looks sleek as ever in the parking lot and you think this is the first time that Otoya actually looks the part to own such a luxury vehicle. He seems to be the gentleman tonight, seeing as how he opened up your car door for you to let you in, a hand holding yours to help keep you steady from the imbalance your heels might offer.

“Am I getting the princess treatment tonight?” you ask playfully as Otoya settles himself into his car.

“When do you not?” inquires Otoya as he slings back one of his arms on the back of your headrest, veering his head to help him reverse despite having a back camera with sensors. You roll your eyes jovially at his antics, supposing that his flirting tactics just come a little too naturally to him even when he wasn’t trying to do so.

The car ride is not too long, the venue being a lot closer than you thought initially. And clearly, a lot more grand, the pictures you saw from Google not doing it justice as you drive by it to its back parking lot.

It’s a large garden conservatory, filled with lush flora all over both inside and out and glittering the place with natural color and textures. A large window dome ceiling looks overhead the space, all the windows letting the setting sunlight in in a manner so majestic that you think it was haloed by the hand of the Sun itself. Two large ponds sit before the entrance on the grass, koi fish swimming about the many lilypads and lotus flowers that bloom before you.

Weariness grows within you when you stare at the building. You want to ask Otoya if you’re sure this is the right venue when he moves forward in the line of many cars to get a parking ticket, seeing as how you’ve never seen such a lavish venue before, but when you pass by a banister that reads a familiar last name of the groom, your words falter.

Welcome to the Wedding of Otoya Teruo & Hirai Hiromi, the banister states.

Up comes the gnawing feeling of suspicion again, like Otoya is hiding something, especially when you see his eyes narrow at the banister. Something is off. His mask is slipping, you think.

You know you should stay cautious and try to mind your business about him, but you’re just his friend and roommate after all and you’re not as close to him as Karasu or Yukimiya. But you feel pressured by an unknown force to try and squeeze something out of him that can help you gain a sense of the true Otoya.

Your fingers itch to lift the mask off of him, to truly see him for who he is and not just the nonchalant, flirty roommate.

“This wedding is pretty extravagant,” you admit after Otoya gains his temporary permit from the parking attendant. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Otoya drums his fingers on the steering wheel of the car, blowing some spare hair out of his way. “Yeah. There is.”

Your eyes go to glance at him, body unmoving. “Well…” you start, fiddling with your fingers when he doesn’t elaborate, “are you gonna say something?”

“You might not like it,” he says honestly, his own gaze focused on trying to find a space, his car moving at a snail’s pace. “You seem stressed enough as it is.”

He’s observant, a trait you’ve picked up from him over the course of the months. Almost a little too much so… were your anxieties that obvious that they leaked out without your knowledge?

Your lips pull a frown. “I can handle it. I’d rather know too much than not know enough. I’m meeting your family, after all.”

The mention of the word “family” irks him a bit, a slight tick from his jaw. A sigh drifts out from him, like he was expecting this from someone who’s mindset was so head-on for most things. “You should be careful about what you wish for.”

“Otoya,” you declare a little more sternly. He purses his lips at your calling of his name, akin to a mother scolding a child.

“Fine then, you asked for it,” he mutters, swerving his car suddenly into a blank space and jutting his gear stick into park. He leans his elbow on the center console and somehow forces you to look at him without touching or commanding you. You stay still where you are, but you focus on the droning look of Otoya’s green hues that bore into you, warning you almost.

“My family owns a subsidiary business of a large investment management company,” he begins with a tone so robotic, it sounds almost generated. It doesn’t sound a bit like him.

You were planning to uncover the true essence of Otoya Eita and why he’s been rather shut-in recently from you, but you never expected him to reveal everything about himself all at once because he spits out everything to you in the matter of seconds, leaving barely any for you to stay curious since he seems to ask every question you have in mind immediately.

“Specifically, we handle index funds. Yes we’re wealthy. Yes, I’m a trust fund baby. I just try to earn money my own way since I don’t want to rely on my parents that often. No, I can’t just give you money flat-out. No, do not ask me if you can dabble in them through me—Karasu already tried. I’ve got barely any knowledge in business and I want it to stay that way.

I have two sisters. Both of them are following my parents’ footsteps, which makes me a black sheep in the family. Stay away from them if you can, same with my parents. I don’t keep in contact with my family a lot for that reason and I only came here because Teruo is the only relative that I’m close with and that gets me.”

An apt pause goes by in the car.

“Ah…” you mumble, eyes wide as you nod slowly.

You thin your lips, not sure if you should say something at the moment, an exponential flurry of questions constantly rising to thoughts that you think you should hold yourself back from asking in the meantime as clearly this was just too much information to digest at once.

Otoya snaps you out of your thoughts with an actual snap of his fingers. You blink.

“This is important, so listen carefully,” he states, atypically serious. There’s almost this pleading look on his face if you look deeper into it. “All you need to do is keep your pretty little head down and let me do the talking, yeah? Don’t try to pretend to be someone you’re not if someone asks you who are—rich snobs can sniff out a phony in seconds. Just don’t give them too much information. Any questions?”

This is very unlike the usual Otoya you saw, and you think this is finally the real version of him that he’s finally allowing you to see; this more vulnerable, more historical side to him that you would’ve never guessed the current Otoya you knew (or thought you knew) well came from.

“Uh… who else should I avoid other than your sisters and parents?” you ask.

“Quite literally almost everyone on my side of the family, ‘cept for Teruo and my great aunt Hisako. She’s weird, but chill. Everyone else?” Otoya rolls his eyes. “Chances are if they look like me, then just stay away.”

You affirm with another nod. “What are your sisters’ names? Just so I can be wary.”

“My oldest sister goes by Eimi, my baby sister goes by Eiko,” Otoya describes. “Avoid nee-san the most—she can see through people easily. Eiko’s got a baby-face, but don’t be fooled. She’s a spoiled brat and a bitch if you tick her off.”

You wince at the insults he throws at his sisters, but you have no room to judge. Otoya grew up with them, you did not.

“Er, how about your parents?” you inquire.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” his shoulders sag a bit, “‘cause they’ll probably avoid me if anything.”

Otoya suddenly turns to you and you can see this foreign tiredness to his eyes; it’s not the normal lethargicness you see him being casted upon, but rather from exhaustion.

That’s what happens, you suppose, when you come from such a family of prestige—you can’t even imagine the amount of expectations he probably had to live up to prior to being your roommate. You’ve never seen him in this way before, seeing him almost defenseless before you.

Eyes closing, he breathes slowly, trying to regain his natural lull again as best as possible. Otoya cracks them open again, a familiar glaze over lime green.

“Just stay close to me,” he mutters almost beseechingly. “Okay? For both our sakes.”

Otoya was right. Money really makes people much too vain for your liking.

Despite looking the part of the family, Otoya himself had an aura that made him stand out in all the wrong ways, drawing side-eyes and whispers from people that knew about him and his reputation as you and him walked about the conservatory, trying to find the groom. You’re a part of it too, his notoriety stretching to you. Every time you try to sneak a glance at one of those dirty looks you think is being thrown your way, just when your vision clears up, they go back to talking in nonsensical manners amongst themselves and laughing much too sweetly.

An older middle-aged woman in a yukata suddenly begins to approach you and Otoya, a faux smile on her face that he doesn’t return. Her face is placidly smooth, eerily so, but the botox can’t always hide the essence of bitter time, and you think that smile is just as fake as her lips.

“Eita, what a pleasure to see you here,” she greets. “Teruo will be happy to see you.”

“Auntie Kazuko,” Otoya replies simply. “It’s good to see you.”

Her smile doesn’t falter and she draws her beady eyes to you, lighting up in mischief. “Hello there. I’ve never seen you before.”

You can feel Otoya stiffen before you, but you squeeze his arm in reassurance that you can temporarily handle yourself.

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N),” you greet with as much false compassion as you can muster, giving her a slight bow of respect. “I’m his plus-one for tonight. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“(L/N)...” Kazuko draws on her tongue, tasting your last name delicately. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a family. What do you all dabble in?”

“She’s not one of us, Auntie, she’s just a friend of mine,” Otoya cuts in before Kazuko can make a judgement. His tone is so much sharper than normal, serpentlike, almost equivalent to his aunt’s.

Kazuko’s smile stretches wider, eyes widening and you swear her pupils constrict themselves like a cat venturing for its prey. You swallow.

“Ah,” she murmurs, lilting her head to examine you fully. “My apologies. I just thought with your looks and your dress that perhaps I just wasn’t akin to your name. Seems I’ve been mistaken.”

Your dress suddenly feels constricting on your body, too tight. “Oh, I just—” you start, shuffling.

“Oscar de la Renta’s Summer 2023 collection, yes?” she asks you. A shiver runs down your spine when his aunt refuses to move her formidable gaze away from you, almost testing you.

You go rigid. No wonder why you felt so intimidated by the dress; a piece crafted by a distinguished fashion house was given to you by Otoya. And while you’ve dabbled in the world of high fashion before, you’ve never been in a status that allowed you to just casually wear $2,000 pieces like they were nothing.

Words fall heavy on your tongue, trying to compose yourself so as to not seem small in front of her. “I don’t really—”

Otoya beats you to it first, swooping down to save you before you accidentally embarrass yourself.

“His Pre-Fall 2025 collection, actually,” he says, face still blank.

Your throat feels dry. Kazuko had a trap set up ready for you and if it weren’t for Otoya’s quick reflexes, you probably would’ve ended up dead meat not even fifteen minutes into this wedding.

Kazuko’s smile falters a bit. Her gaze hardens at you but pivots to Otoya. “I’m sure she has a voice of her own, Eita.”

“Where’s Teruo?” he inquires boredly. “Just wanna give him some support before the big show.”

Kazuko huffs, but silently points to the right corridor of the hallway, her eyes cold and sharp and daggering when they burn into the back of your back as Otoya leads you away from her.

“I’m assuming she’s one of yours…?” you ask softly, noticing how Otoya’s own gaze softens and body loosens when she’s out of view.

“She’s his mom,” Otoya admits as you trail down a hallway of doors as you approach the large door at the end of the hallway. “It’s crazy considering they act nothing alike. Or look alike. I can’t tell if it’s because of all the botox or if just being a bitch ages you quicker.”

A stifled giggle muffles itself under your hand, a small bit of humor distracting you from the tension in the room.

True to his word, you meet the rather outlandish and loud Teruo, whose naturally extroverted nature is a breath of fresh air in comparison to everyone else. He shakes your hand warmly, telling you thank you for being here with Otoya, who many thought wouldn’t even show up, with a date nonetheless. You can understand why he and Otoya get along so well—they’re quite the oddities in the family.

He tells you and Otoya to go get settled soon in the venue with a shining smile, clearly excited to meet his shining bride. A lovesick man is always a treat to witness you think.

Skittering eyes are on you when you and Otoya settle down in your chairs and he can sense that your unease has amplified. It’s not like the same eyes that scan you aren’t observing his every move as well. Oddly, your out-of-place disposition that just seems to draw more attention than him than he would’ve liked brought him this solace—knowing that he wasn’t alone in not quite fitting in with the rest of the crowd. It was cruel to perhaps place you in a co-dependent position with him for the time being, but he figured he had to be just a bit selfish to keep his sanity.

You lift your gaze a bit and suddenly make accidental eye contact with a man in front whose head is turned ever so slightly to examine you, only breaking it when you notice him. There’s a few other eyes on you and Otoya, some even going to whisper behind their hands to share gossip.

You swallow dryly again, hands feeling clammy until a warmth slithers its way to one of them, squeezing it lightly.

You turn to Otoya, who idly gazes at you from the side and gives you a comforting nod.

“You’re fine. We’re fine,” he mutters softly. “Just ignore them. They won’t remember you tomorrow, anyways.”

The Otoya you’re familiar with somehow creeped back into this persona Otoya has been guising under, that coolness he’s notorious for bringing you comfort in knowing that this feeling won’t last for long. Relief in knowing that part of him isn’t entirely buried for the time being warms your nerves.

The lights dim.

You breathe steadily. Otoya squeezes your hand again and you return it, a silent agreement that you and him just have to stick it out for a few more hours together.

Despite the evident class and structure of the reception’s venue, the reception itself is rather rowdy. It’s too close and personal with the families, so you and Otoya have stowed away somewhere isolated and quiet, where you watch him play rhythm games on his phone intently.

“You suck,” you state as he misses a note.

“You swa—”

Otoya pauses mid sentence, closing his mouth.

You stare at him intently with a plastic grin, eyes wide and unblinking as he tries his best not to look at you and focuses his gaze on his phone. The douchebag jar was nearing its halfway point, if you could recall correctly.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.”

“I’m good… thanks,” he mumbles.

“Good choice,” you cheerily state to his dismay as he begins another level.

The low hum of the game echoes through the part of the corridor where you and him settle yourselves in, the quietness lulling you both from the apprehension earlier. You can hear the cheers from the reception, but you and Otoya are better off just absorbing it rather than partaking in it. It’s not like they wanted you there anyway.

He’s much more relaxed now, ever since you and him moved away from all the commotion of his family that you witnessed in full light were just as everything Otoya had said they were. Judgemental, proud, and conceited.

“Hey,” you begin softly, resting your head on his shoulder and watch his thumbs prance about. “How come you didn’t tell me any of this before…?”

Otoya hums questionably, feeling the warmth of you radiating onto him. “What? My family?”

You nod. The fervent taps of his phone and echoes from the party are the only things that ring out into the silence for a bit, but Otoya eventually breaks after choosing his words carefully.

“Unless I’m forced to, I don’t like telling people about them,” he says, monotone and unfeeling. “For reasons you obviously saw. Also ‘cause I hate associating myself with them.”

That’s understandable, you think to yourself. You don’t think that you would be able to live with yourself if fate forced you to be a part of such a snobbish collective of rich folk without trying to break it off and make a name for yourself.

“It’s why I refused to go into the financial business field in college and chose music instead,” he continues to your astonishment. Not necessarily a man of many words in regards to himself, Otoya was always more of a secretive person to you, especially in consideration of recent weeks, so to hear him unsheathe truths of himself without you prying came as a small surprise.

But this is good, you think, to let him be vulnerable around you. To take that mask off.

“Your parents weren’t mad?” you ask.

He snorts loudly, shaking his head. “Oh no, they were pissed. Threatened to cut me off and everything.”

You perk up. “But you said you’re trust fund baby?”

“I am still,” he confirms with a nod. “Because I told them if they did, I’d reveal to the press all the scandals they covered up. And there’s more than enough to hand out to properly damage their reputation.” Otoya shrugs loosely. “My uncle on my mom’s side especially has quite the stack. Really likes that one gentlemen's club down on Twenty-Eighth.”

Your eyes widen at his quiet ferocity. Only a few hours prior, you would’ve never thought that Otoya you saw on a day-to-day basis would dabble in such matters, only doing his own business as he liked. But seeing this new side of him stirs sparks of interest within you, seeing as how there’s this undertone of determination and ambition he nurtured himself, very much unlike the lethargic, easy-going roommate you saw.

Otoya, without averting his eyes away from his phone, senses your shock and cracks a grin.

“Surprised?” he inquiries, a subtle slyness in his voice.

You’re nothing but. You let out a brief laugh in astonishment.

“A little bit,” you murmur. “Sorry, I just kind of always took you as—”

“—a slob? A sloth? A laggard?” Otoya lists down. “You can say it, I’ve heard it all before. They’re pretty much true anyway.”

“I was going to say ‘laid back’,” you mutter, shoving him a bit to his amusement. “‘Care-free’ even, you dunce.”

He cringes at the familiarity of the nickname. “Gross. You’ve been hanging out with Tabito too much.”

You’re about to hurl an insult back at him but Otoya stands up abruptly when two feminine voices suddenly trail through the hallway. His face remains still, but there’s a seriousness to his eyes that narrow when they grow closer.

“I feel as though Teruo went over his budget,” a familiar voice drawls steadily, two pairs of heels clicking in synchronicity. “All for a commoner girl?”

“Well, Teruo-nii has always been like that,” the other, younger in intonation, replies in what seems to be an attempt at comfort, but comes off as standoffish. Otoya’s brows knit in concern at the second voice, clearly accustomed to it. “Always loud and grand. Explosive, some may say.”

“I hope your brother won’t be doing that with that girl he came along with,” Auntie Kazuko’s voice chides. “Then again, I doubt he’ll ever get married anyway. He doesn’t seem like the type to do so.”

The younger voice laughs in amusement. “It might be better for us anyway. We don’t need more drama from someone who’s stirred up quite a storm already.”

Your eyes soften in pity at the implication of Otoya, who just stares at the two approaching shadowy figures in the hallway. You want to refute their statement, but your words falter when Otoya suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you further from them, your heels rapidly clicking against the floor.

“Hey!” you exclaim with a slight yelp in pain from his grip. “Where are we—”

“Just away from them,” he grimaces. “I don’t feel like talking to nee-san today.”

His older sister. Eimi, if you could recall, the one who was able to see through people. You’ve never heard of her until today, let alone know what she looks like, but you can already tell from Otoya’s urgency to get away from her that she’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Otoya leads you down one of the corridors leading to the entrance but hisses out a swear when he sees a cherub-faced woman talking politely with an elder, a head of long snowy white hair with that strike of green mimicking his own. He turns back, only to see the shadowy figures from earlier approach you both closer and closer as the seconds pass.

He groans out loud. He hates things like this—problems that require too much worrying. It was such a waste of time dabbling on things that were out of his control, such as this scenario before him, and Otoya thought he had gotten away from the hazards of it when he left the family but he supposes that he’s doomed to face such troubles whenever they’re in radius.

His eyes scan his surroundings for a way out, not finding any that won’t lead him to cross paths with people until he spots a certain door.

“Sorry babe,” he mutters lowly to you and pulls you to the men’s bathroom to your horror. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

You gawk at him when you see the male symbol on the door.

“Dude!” you shout in protest, but to no avail does it work in changing Otoya’s mind seeing as how he slams the door shut and locks it, pressing himself up against the door as a barricade.

To your relief, it was a single stall bathroom with no one in it to bother you both, one gold-plated toilet sitting next to the door and a marble sink across from it. Otoya swallows thickly, pressing his ear up against the wall to properly hear outside. He can hear the semi-condescending voices of his sisters murmur through, his name being bounced around once or twice to his displeasure.

A small velvet stool sits right in front of the door and you let yourself take a break from the stress of your heels, watching closely as Otoya observes the outside within the inner safety of the bathroom with his ear.

“I think we’re all good,” he asserts when turning back to you.

You don’t enjoy seeing him like this—it felt uncharacteristic of him to be so restless around people he was supposed to have fun with. It’s clear that he didn’t want to come from the very beginning.

“Hey,” you start, “I get that Teruo is your cousin and everything, but we can go home if you really want to.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I promised him I’d stay for at least the majority of the reception. Just until the toasts. Said I didn’t have to interact with anyone, but he wants me here. I owe him that much.”

“Well that isn’t worth being uncomfortable for nearly five hours, I’m sorry,” you remark tiredly. “You don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I think it’s just best if we leave.”

Otoya turns to you, a slight furrow in his brow. “He’s the only person in this family that I refuse to let down. Everyone else can go fuck themselves, but I’m doing this for him.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead, a little vexed at this foreign stubbornness considering Otoya would usually go along with most things.

“You haven’t let yourself breathe even once the entire time we’ve been here,” you point out with concern. “I’m sure he’d understand.

Otoya takes your words in for a moment to consider, but ultimately shakes his head again. “It’s just a few more hours. Let’s just tough it out.”

Frustrated, you get up and dust yourself off, moving towards the door. You’ve had enough for one night; you’re tired, your esteem has been kicked down from all the shady comments sent your way, and all you want to do is just take off this dress and makeup and sleep. Meddling around in rich folks’ business was not your ideal Saturday night.

“You can stay if you want,” you huff, grasping the handle and whipping your head around to face him. “But I’m gonna grab an Uber. I’ll see you back home. I’ve done my part.”

Otoya shrugs loosely, unfazed as he takes your spot on the stool. “Go right ahead, princess.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

You throw him another judgemental look, one that he doesn’t do much with except for give you a questioning raise of his brows as you tug on the doorknob to swing yourself out of the reception’s venue.

Oddly, however… it refuses to budge.

You pause. Then jerk it again. Nothing happens. The door stays where it is.

“What…” you mutter, pulling on the doorknob again, fiddling with the lock multiple times to get the right latch. With every turn of the lock, however, you run into the same problem. “You can’t be serious? It’s stuck?”

“No way bro can’t even open a door right,” Otoya snorts and stands up. His hand goes to grip the doorknob and give it a pull from his own means, but even he can’t seem to get it to open.

“I’m telling you, it’s stuck,” you insist as he repeats your own methods, all reaching no avail.

Otoya constantly pulls on the doorknob, each yank being harsher than the previous. “It literally just opened a minute ago—hold on…”

“Don’t pull too hard,” you warn when he begins adding more of his strength. “You might—!”

Something clicks, and Otoya figures it’s the latch. He gives it one last harsh tug, only for the actual knob of it to snap off suddenly to your horror, a gasp pulling from your throat.

He steps back a little, examining the chunk of metal in his palm. He gives you a blank look.

“So… we may be stuck,” he says all too obviously, making you smack your forehead.

“Well duh!” you groan out loud and examine the broken lock that seems completely hopeless to try and solve a way to maneuver it.

Otoya is quick to pull out his phone. “Lemme call Teruo and see if—shit, my phone’s dead.”

He shows you the empty battery icon flickering on his screen, your dread expanding.

“I didn’t think rhythm games took up that much battery…” he falters, tucking it back into his pocket. “Try yours.”

Thankfully, you have your phone still at 40% battery when you pull it out, the number keypad at the ready, only for you to whine miserably when you see the No Service text on the corner of your screen. Of course you somehow land in the only place in the venue that is just slightly out of service.

“First rule of thumb whenever you enter a place,” Otoya holds a finger up, one that you have an urge to snap from the irritation that boils within you. “Always ask for their wifi password.”

That’s not how it works… you hiss at him in your mind, trying to avoid escalating this situation. You stare at him darkly, his lax personality not doing much to help your unease in this moment and wonder how many hours it’ll take for you to go insane and strangle him.

Two, you think. One, if he tested his luck.

Surprisingly, after three and a half hours have passed, Otoya still has a beating heart. He’s been the patient one out of you two, watching you as you pace back and forth to try and conjure a plan to get out while he was just riding on the wave of hoping someone would come by soon to try and use this bathroom.

You’ve tried going on his shoulders to try and receive a signal, pushing the vent to see if you could spy-movie—only for it to be much too small for a human body to fit, and yelling for help whenever someone passed by, only for your shouts to be drowned out from the music.

The music has died down, but your voice is gone from all the shouting. You’ve given up at this point, just hoping that a custodian will somehow break their way through after hours.

“Has no one attempted to look for you yet?” you question wearily when you slump down next to him on the stool.

Otoya gives another one of those loose shrugs of his again as he bunches up his suit jacket, plopping it on his lap. “Bold of you to assume that family gives a damn about me.”

The way he says it seems too casual, like he was used to this. Like this was normal for him. It’s unsettling to you, knowing that such a large and prestigious family would think of one of their own so scathingly that his existence barely mattered.

He sees you giving him a pouted look and sighs. “You don’t have to pity me. I chose to leave that life while knowing the consequences.”

“But even so… it doesn’t bother you?” you question with sympathy laced in your voice. “When they talk about you like that?”

“Hah,” Otoya gives a smileless laugh, rolling his eyes. “I promise you, I could not have given less of a shit about what they think of me. They can say whatever they want; I got what I wanted at the end of the day while they’re stuck slaving away at an office.”

You give him a stony look, silently reminding him that you and his other two roommates worked corporate.

“My fault,” Otoya excuses with guilty haste.

The rigidity in your face softens once more, your mind trailing back to all of those side-eyes that everyone had thrown in Otoya’s direction from before.

The Otoya you saw today just seemed so different from the one you were used to at home, so much so that you still can’t decipher him out and if anything, the Otoya that you had witnessed today just even caused more confusion to you. The usual Otoya, the one you suspect is just a mask, is this composed and carefree guy that dawdled around the apartment as he pleased, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to do it. This Otoya however, was much more uptight, much more weary of his surroundings—you almost think that he’s mimicking his family in some manner.

Maybe that’s why he’s been so closed-off with you recently. Family can bring out the best and worst in people, so the days leading up to this event were the reason why he’s been so strayed from you lately.

“You know,” you start quietly, earning Otoya’s attention. “I wish you didn’t feel the urge to have to hide something like this from me. Unless I made it seem like you had to…?”

Otoya examines you in full, scanning how bleak your face is, how sincere it was.

He remembers the first day you came into the loft—you, sitting there on the couch with your fidgety self squirming about. Originally, Otoya had not really thought that hard about you during the first few weeks you and him were living together, seeing you as no more than just a girl he wasn’t allowed to cross boundaries with to ensure nothing unnecessary would blossom. Even Yukimiya and Karasu had told him not to try anything funny, though he insists he wasn’t going to anyway.

But times change, as they always have. A crack was made in the wall he put between you and him from a specific day he saw you bring home a certain vinyl, one that he already owned from his own collection. That was his first break with you, your shared love of music—the start of everything. Of you and him. A unique relationship with a girl he’d never had before.

He thought it’d just be nothing more than that, casual chats over new albums and artists and whatnot. Until the small hangouts started to arise, where it’d just be the two of you venturing around places like record stores or flea markets. It was nice, being able to hang out with a girl without any other intentions. Perhaps that’s why Otoya allowed himself to get closer to you—you were a safe option. Someone he was able to breathe around just like Karasu and Yukimiya.

Someone he saw as an escape from the roots of himself.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” he says. “I just never brought it up because I thought I didn’t have to at first,” He shuffles his feet about, almost ashamed.

He never even realized he was closing himself in from you when he received the wedding invitation all those weeks ago, a reminder to not forget where he came from, who he was supposed to be. That no matter how many times he attempts to bury it, that lost potential he never wanted to live up to was still a remnant of him.

“I figured that if I possibly did, you’d view me differently,” he admits, “you’d view me as someone I’m not.”

He had a point; money does a plethora of things—one of them being the way people see each other. Whether one person saw the other as a walking piggy bank, or someone they could depend on financially, or someone they should envy, money was always attached to some sort of ugly feeling that you figured Otoya didn’t want you associating with him. Not from someone he had such a unique connection with.

“I didn’t want that,” he confesses and raises his head to face you in full. You can feel your heart skip a beat when he goes to directly stare into your eyes with those lime green eyes of his that hold nothing but genuinity. “Especially not from you, (Y/N).”

The way he says your name is delicate, like it’s fragile. The lack of endearment and nickname reveals the earnesty of his nature.

It comes to you suddenly, that epiphany you had been searching for.

You had spent all this time wondering about who the true Otoya Eita was that you didn’t even realize you had been face-to-face with him this entire time. That, in reality, the seemingly-fake Otoya was the one you saw plastered on his face when it came to his family matters, people that brought the worst of himself to light. He kept it professional, keeping them at arm’s length as to not let anymore of those feelings only they could conjure to light. He was just trying to bury that part of him on your behalf to keep letting authenticity bounce between you and him.

But Otoya is a good man. A tad bit annoying, yes, you won’t deny you’ve seen some vices of his unfiltered self, sure, but at the end of the day, despite having that immense access to wealth, he still somehow lived humbly. It was ironic seeing as how he detached himself from his riches to become a happier person, but he’s clearly put in the work, seeing as how he seems to be content where he is. Everyone around him seems to be, as well.

You give him a gentle smile.

“I don’t think I would’ve viewed you in a different light even if I tried to,” you murmur. “You’re too much of a good person. I think everyone can see that, Otoya.”

His eyes widen a bit from your tender response before softening. Your response is tender, an honesty he’s not familiar with, but embraces nonetheless. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

One of his legs shuffles around with yours, linking them together in a loose manner. Otoya turns to you.

“You can call me Eita, by the way,” he proclaims quietly. “I don’t mind.”

The clicking of metal suddenly startles you awake, your body jolting so harshly, Otoya’s suit jacket falling to the ground from your body. Your head jerks up from Otoya’s shoulder, accidentally waking him up, whose own lied on top of yours for the small catnap you and him took, a groan rumbling out of him.

“Awhuzz happening…?” he asks blearily, eyes half-closed.

It takes a bit for your vision to adjust, but the inner mechanics of the broken doorknob are suddenly moving on their own, a muffled voice outside muttering about. You tap on his arm rapidly, pointing your finger towards it. “Look, look!”

Otoya’s drowsiness still stirs within him, but you go up and rap on the door, indicating to the person outside that someone was still here.

“Hello?!” you call out, hearing an exclaim from outside. “Hello! Sorry, but there’s two people trapped in here! Can you let us out please?!”

You watch eagerly as whoever is outside fiddles with the broken lock, the latch suddenly clicking and the door swinging open to your relief.

A custodian with his supplies appears before you, your unknowing knight in shining trousers. He widens his eyes at the both of you. “What on earth are you kids doin’ here? We’ve been closed for three hours already.”

I’m so sorry, the lock broke and we both got trapped inside since around eight or so,” you confess as you hand the custodian the broken knob. You check the time on your phone, the time reading 01:34 AM. “Oh gosh, we were stuck in there for that long?”

The custodian eyes you both suspiciously, raising a bushy brow. “And exactly why did you both move into the same bathroom when clearly…?” he eyes you up and down, moving his gaze to the male symbol on the door.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen, a heat rising on your cheeks.

“N-no sir, it wasn’t anything like that…” you stutter, shaking your head. “We just—will you shut up!” you snap at Otoya, who quietly snickers behind you to your disbelief.

The custodian sighs, dismissing it and just wanting his job to be over with.

“Y��all better get movin’,” he warns, checking behind his shoulder. “Security doesn’t take too kindly to who they think may be trespassers.”

When you both finally walk outside for the first time in hours from the bathroom and pass by the reception venue, it’s dark and completely devoid of all the decorations you saw earlier, eerily desolate. Otoya’s car is the only one that remains in the parking lot, with the exception of the night crew, and you couldn’t feel more relieved to be sitting on something other than a velvet stool for once. Who knew cold leather seats could feel so pleasant?

“It would’ve been easier if you just went along with what he was implying,” Otoya points out as he travels down the road, a smirk toying on his lips. “Would’ve been funnier, too.”

Your jaw grits, a familiar reaction whenever he says or does anything preposterous to you. He’s lucky he’s driving and not still stuck in the bathroom with you, because if he wasn’t, you most definitely would’ve strangled him by now.

“Twenty bucks in the douchebag jar when we get home, Eita,” you hiss.

He stifles a chuckle, a warmth within him blooming when he hears his name falling from your lips. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

☚ previous next☛

a/n: this chapter sucked the absolute life out of me good god im glad it's over... a little bit of a serious one, but dw i'm pinning that clown nose on otoya again soon! also, this was the dress that otoya had reader wear; it's an actual piece from the oscar de la renta's collection otoya stated.

yukki's chapter is next, one that i'm quite excited for! i think that's where all the drama is going to start to happen so i hope you'll stay tuned (spoiler: they dance together aaa)

thank you sincerely if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed reading! comments and reblogs are the best way to support your writers; they're always appreciated and never unnoticed <3

taglist (link to join): @okkotsuus @solaqes @cz19y @kiritokunuwu @/ilovenijironanase @cyberheartrebel @tecchouss @/inojinieee @beoms-sugar

*those with /, please turn on the ability to tag you in posts!

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ericscroptop · 6 months ago

Text

Work Hard, Play Harder

✧ pairing: bf! sunwoo x gf! reader

✦ genre: smut w/ hints of fluff

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn without plot, inexperienced and a bit shy reader, nervous/insecure about sex, fingering, dirty talk, c!m tasting from both, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, marking, fluff

✦ word count: 5.4k words

✧ synopsis: you laying on his bed is so enticing. he can’t help that he wants to play with you and show your fried brain a little fun.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

How foolish of you to think even for a second that you’d be able to get homework done with Kim Sunwoo in the same room?

Normally, you’d get your assignments and whatnot done in isolation because you work best with minimal-to-zero distractions. But today, you’ve somehow let Sunwoo convince you to do homework in his bedroom.

The past couple days, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend much. Schedules were opposite and conflicting, so it was only today that each of you had a slot of free time.

Still, you recalled that you had a task to complete before a deadline that was approaching. The sooner you finished it, the better.

Today seemed like a perfect day to lock in, but Sunwoo kept texting you that he missed you so much, insisting you two should hang out.

While you also missed him, it would be the smarter choice to get your homework done before you hangout with him. Which, is what you tried to tell him. But while you were mid-text, he was already knocking on your door.

You lectured him for bothering you, knowing you’d fold for his big pleading eyes, plump pouty lips, and his sweet voice.

Next thing you know, he’s telling you to grab your laptop and book bag, and driving you over to his place to work on schoolwork together. There’s a few assignments he should probably get around to doing anyways, too. So, a study date it is then!

That’s how you found yourself lying on your stomach over his bed, head facing the end of it, laptop and other essentials spread out in front. Meanwhile, he sat with his back against his pillows and headboard, laptop sitting over his lap.

After about an hour of having small snacks, chatting, and catching up from the days you’ve been apart, (which is exactly why you needed to be locked up alone to avoid distractions like him), you sighed when you realized the time you let pass and recalled what you were supposed to be doing in the first place.

Perhaps it was good to recharge with Sunwoo before getting to work; that way, you both at least got some of that pent-up excitement out from not seeing each other.

Well… that’s what you had hoped.

Now, you each settled into your own spots on his bed, a blended playlist of you guys’ current favorite songs playing faintly in the back via his laptop. Some sound was needed to fill the silence while you two worked.

You bounced from tab to tab on your screen while you began researching and citing quotes for the paper you’re working on. It’s tedious and frustrating to craft it, but you’re determined to write a mean paper that’ll hopefully get you an A.

Every now and then, you’d just stare at your screen blankly, complaining mentally in discouragement, or trying to conjure up ideas for the way you phrase your next sentences. But in other moments, you get inspired and furiously type away, getting into the groove of having ideas flow out smoothly.

Sunwoo smiles to himself when he hears your fingers clicking the keys at an unremitting rhythm. It seems like you know what you’re doing, when in contrast, his discussion post prompt is sending daggers at him, patiently waiting for him to actually start it.

It’s not difficult to become distracted, especially given the fact that he’s doing something mundane like homework. It’s such a chore, one that was crucial to his academic success.

Bullshitting his assignment or procrastinating even more sounds inviting. Even you had your moments where you don’t try as hard and leave things till last minute because it’s exhausting to even think about. But Sunwoo said you guys would do homework, so he should get on it.

Your form working diligently on his bed only distracted him further. How could he focus when watching your engrossed state looked more appealing?

He’s unable to see your face of concentration, only listening to the occasional exasperated groans that would leave your throat, and watching the way your feet would sway in the air in different directions, at various tempos and patterns. He’s noticed how fidgety you’d get sometimes, particularly with your legs. Your feet also would rub together and draw shapes into his comforter while you worked.

It’s endearing to watch your habits, not aware that he has disregarded his discussion post to admire you instead.

As he’s observing the way your legs roamed freely, he shamelessly starts to wander his eyes over the rest of your body.

Since all you planned for today was to be swamped in your paper, you dressed comfortably. A baggy t-shirt and sweat shorts was your attire of the day.

Your legs are left exposed. He soaks in the detailing of your skin, and runs his eyes to your bottom.

Sunwoo likes to think he’s a respectful man, and you’d definitely agree. He’s always patient with you, respecting your boundaries and has always been a gentleman. He treats you like any other human— with kindness, but is extra affectionate and clingy because he’s obsessed with you.

He thinks highly of you. While he loves you for your personality and quirks, he also sees you as visually stunning. His heart pumps fondly and blood rushes when he eyes your physical features.

While decorous, he has to admit that he does stare at various parts of you for a little too long. How could he not in situations like now, where your rear is facing him? Somehow, your oversized shirt bunched upwards, leaving the swell of your ass for his viewing pleasure.

Even though you were clearly clothed, he still had an imagination. He started picturing how your ass would look unveiled. Thinking about exploring every curve of your body with his lips and hands. Wondering about what delicious sounds you’d make when doing naughty things with him.

Unconsciously, you were tantalizing him.

His mind is going towards the gutter. You’re just trying to write your paper like the good student you were, while he was yearning for some attention from you. You were on the bed together, but you made it clear you meant business.

Though, Sunwoo doesn’t think he can wait much longer to hold you for as long as he pleases.

“Baby, can you read this real quick for me?” he suddenly asks. His eyes are entreating as they look at the back of your head. He still has yet to write a single word for his assignment, meaning he just came up with an excuse for you to pay any mind to him. His laptop isn’t even over him anymore; it’s been pushed to the side.

“Gimme a sec.” you uttered, fingers typing quickly and face still directed towards your screen.

He grins mischievously in the short amount of time you finish writing out one last sentence before switching your focus towards him. The grin falters into a faint smile once you fully turn around, scooting up until you’re right next to him.

“You actually got some work done? I’m impressed.” you scoffed, prepared to read his assignment.

You see he doesn’t bring his laptop to his lap or hand it over to you, making you raise your brows in question. Instead, he makes the move of pulling you in between his legs.

“Hey! What are you doing! Stop—” you choked out but interrupted yourself with broken giggles due to how ticklish you were.

Your heart was pounding, startled and delirious as your form was now in between his legs. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly with your back pressed against his chest.

His chin settles into your shoulder, turning his head to graze his lips over the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been working too hard. Let’s take a break, hm?”

You’re stiff as hell. You guys have kissed one another, made out, cuddled, took naps together, etc., but your body and mind still malfunctioned when you were this near to him.

All the focus centered on the tension from close proximity. You could hear his breathing and sense his air from such fanning over your neck and ear.

“You didn’t actually get anything done, did you?” you muttered, fingers clutching the skin of your thighs as he invaded your personal space. It’s not that you didn’t like it— quite the opposite, actually. You just didn’t know how to react.

“How can I when we haven’t properly spent time together?” he hums, pushing some of your hair back to start leaving soft kisses over your sensitive spots. Instinctively, you shut your eyes and angle your neck, succumbing to his tender gesture.

“Sunwoo… my paper.” you reminded him as his kisses were seemingly growing fervid. Somehow your shirt exposed your shoulder, riveting him to redirect his mouth to the spot. A hand of his rubs your clothed tummy, dragging wet kisses across the bare skin.

Your body shivers, goosebumps appearing instantly. Uninhibitedly, you squeezed your thighs and let out a shaky breath. Your body temperature was rising and you felt so small.

“It can wait. I can’t. I missed you so much.” he voices. His hands loosen from your stomach and he brings one of them to your hair, smoothing over your locks.

By this point, you gathered strength to turn your head somewhat to look at him. With his free veiny hand, he cups your cheek, searching every inch of your face with his orbs as if he’s trying to memorize it.

“Did you miss me, too? Tell me you missed me.” his big dark, yet soft eyes hold vulnerability and longing. His look leaves your throat parched, still growing hot all over. You even feel something akin to a heartbeat down south between your legs.

Sunwoo was so needful. That’s one of the things you liked about him. He was cool and collective to the public and friends, but when around you, he never abstained his openness about how much your presence soothed him.

“You know I always miss you.” you answered, still maintaining eye contact with him as he continued to hold your cheek. Deep down, he knew your answer but still wanted to be affirmed aloud. It contented him, but he needed you to touch him back now.

He takes initiative to close more distance between you two, leaning his face further until his nose is brushing against yours.

You can feel each other’s breath face to face. He brushes his features over yours, his nose and lips grazing past your own in a gentle back-and-forth motion.

“Kiss me, baby.” he ghosts over your lips. You’re breathless by just his teasing actions, your own nails digging into your thighs to keep yourself grounded.

It’s impossible to refuse his precious plead. He’s caught you like a fish on a hook. You fall for the bait of his charms, and connect your lips with his own.

The kisses shared start out moderate, lips meeting and touching, pressure light. Your back still rests against his chest, slightly at an angle to continuously kiss him. He keeps you near to his liking by not letting that one hand of his part from your face.

It doesn’t take long before a few tastes make you both greedy.

The sounds of your lips puckering and the sensation of one another’s appendage meeting together creates heightened sensations. You each start fighting for more. It evolves into something wetter, his tongue darting out to flick against yours, tongue tips touching.

Desperation clouded your mind with the way this has grown into making out. Sunwoo has your body unable to remain calm, wiggling and unthinkingly pushing your core down into his mattress

Your breathing alongside his, has grown heavier. Although whipped in chasing your lips, he clearly catches the low moan that lets out your throat.

The naughty sound has him smirking against your mouth. There’s excitement within him, mentally and physically. His manhood is getting pumped full of blood, warming up and swelling the more you two make out fiercely.

His lustful instincts get him to maneuver his free hand towards your thigh. Since your shorts were generously short, he had easy access to your bare skin. His palm and fingers stroked it, making your spine and pussy shiver at how close he was to your private area.

As you two continue with the fiery embrace, he’s only wishing for more contact and intimacy. His fingers start trailing towards your inner thigh, dangerously closer to your covered sex.

Having his hand near such a concealed and sensitive spot makes you shut your thighs together on impulse, thus squeezing his hand in the process.

You butt your back against him the more touchy he gets, causing you to take note of something firm prodding into your lower back.

If you’re not mistaken, you think that is his—

“You got me so hard, baby.” Sunwoo rumbles, parting lips for a moment to catch your breaths. He’s burning for more of you. And while he also is igniting something within you, you’re unfamiliar in what happens next.

“Feel that? It’s ‘cause of you doll.” he slightly pushes himself against you, as if you two aren’t already close together. His erection is hard to not notice now, bringing you interest yet anxiousness.

While you guys have been dating for a decent amount of time, there hasn’t been any initiation of doing anything past kissing and cuddling. You didn’t think much of it— as you were still a virgin. And as horny as you still got from time-to-time, you were a tiny bit apprehensive for the day you did do something sexual with someone.

You imagine that right now is when things go further for you two.

“Sunwoo… I haven’t… I’ve never…” your cheeks got hot and reddened, feeling a bit embarrassed to have this conversation. You didn’t want to let your boyfriend down or kill the mood.

He stilled behind you, eyes softening once your words clicked in his head. Your eyes avoided his own, fidgeting with your limbs.

Although you felt mortified, Sunwoo believes he should be the one to feel ashamed. You two never had the conversation of sex before, so how would he have known? But nevertheless, the last thing he’d want you to feel is distressed or cross a boundary he shouldn’t have.

“Shit… did I make you uncomfortable? Hey, look at me.” he thumbs your cheek with one hand while the other goes to enfold one of your own, holding it lovingly.

You do look at him, worried that you’d disappoint him with your lack of experience, palms all sweaty.

“I… I’ve never done anything past making out.” you admitted more clearly.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready or comfortable with it. I’m sorry if I got too carried away.” he offers you an apologetic look, still caressing your cheek delicately.

“We should get back to doing our homework. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” his voice is genuine, tinged with regret of letting his hormones loose.

The look on his face, the way he shows that he respects you, and his apology (that you believe was not needed but still kind), has you melting. He’s definitely sheepish, but you don’t want him feeling that way.

If anything, Sunwoo was working you up. Sexual frustration was becoming a bitch to you. Your core’s experiencing a wind of warmth, unable to dismiss it. You think you need some sort of alleviation.

“Babe,” you reached a hand up to his hair, shaking your head while massaging his fluffy strands.

“I really want to do stuff with you. So bad, Sunwoo.” there’s so much honestly within your words and tone, longing and sentiment coating your orbs.

“I just don’t know… I don’t know how i’ll react or if you’ll like me.” you almost whisper, suddenly insecure of yourself now that you’re admitting this aloud to your boyfriend.

Every now and then, you wondered what it would be like to get intimate with another person. It would be vulnerable for you to show your bare body to someone. You can’t help but overthink that Sunwoo might not feel satisfied with you, or that you wouldn’t enjoy it— possibly finding it uncomfortable, instead.

Without a doubt you trusted him, but fearing unfamiliar territory was natural. You simply didn’t know what to expect.

How would you know unless you actually tried it?

A scoff comes out of Sunwoo, followed by an empathetic smile.

“Of course I like you, silly girl.” he chuckles, reaching for the hand that was in his hair and connecting it with his own. He gives it a reassuring squeeze, prompting the corners of your lips to raise in seeing and hearing him make that gentle sound.

“I love you, Y/n.” I will cherish every part of you. You’re so damn beautiful.” he brings your hand to his lips, dotting soft kisses over your knuckles. His other hand stays on your hip protectively.

“You’re safe with me. I wanna treat my girl right. I’m yours.” he means all of it, clear sincerity as bright as day twined in his tone and words.

Hearing his words is dulcet to your ears. There’s this wave that washed over you. It’s like a sea that gets you lost. Lost but secure from his touches and statements.

“I want you to feel comfortable with me. You’re the priority here. If you don’t wanna do anything that’s completely fine.”

“But if you wanna, we can start slow. If you give me the okay, i’ll take care of where it aches.”

It feels like your tummy does a somersault at that. You’re positive your cheeks are flushing, all rosy with how he always knows the right things to say. He really does care about you.

As if on cue, your pussy throbs more when he acknowledges that it must be craving for some stimulation.

You’re feeling so shy about letting him see or touch your bare sex, but one look at those bambi eyes of his and you think you’re ready. Ready for Sunwoo to help pleasure you.

Amenability glazes your eyes when you look at him. Although still slightly lacking confidence, you’re sure you want to take your relationship somewhat further.

“Okay…” it comes out faintly from your voice. You pause for a few before gaining strength to speak up a bit. “Touch me, Sunwoo. Please.”

Sunwoo’s gaze is tender as you spoke with vulnerability, granting him permission to un shield a part of yourself that you reserved for someone you trust and care for deeply.

That someone being him.

A part of him is nervous to touch you. He’s not planning on going past fingering with you for now, but he still wants to make this an enjoyable experience for you.

Aside from that ounce of concern, his body is overly excited to reach third base with you. It’s been awhile since he’s sensually touched someone else. Your existence brought him so much warmth, and he often craved to have you in sexual ways.

He’s been a patient boy. And now, you were going to allow for him to rub you as he pleased.

He’s determined and delighted to give you some delectable pleasure. To show you how much he cares about you through this new form of intimacy.

You feel like you’re hallucinating and definitely are perspiring and clammy from anticipation. Even so, you weren’t going to let your nerves fuck you over. You wanted to try this.

Once more, he double checks to ensure your consent, and you simply nod with a positive ‘yes.’

“I’ll take it slow. Just relax for me and I’ll do all the work. Lemme know if you wanna stop or if anything hurts, alright, baby?

“I love you, Sunwoo.” you smiled, all misty eyed from how caring he was being in this moment.

“I love you, too, Y/n.” he returns your smile, then gravitates his lips towards yours. You kiss passionately, but the embrace of lips is still smooth. It further stresses the respect and cosmic attachment he has for you— and vice versa.

After lip locking, his hands begin to explore your skin. With you sitting in between his legs, he directs you to lean back comfortably. His hands creep their way under your shirt, tracing your bare sides up and down like he had all the time in the world.

He also patted at your stomach, smoothing over it protectively. Instead of diving his fingers straight into your sex, he wanted to ease up your body first to get used to these sensual touches of his.

Slithering downwards from your abdomen, he continues to love up on your body, massaging the flesh of your thighs.

It’s his mission and wish to soften your core and muscles, getting you to enjoy this moment. Additionally to his tactile movements, he pairs them with words laced with so much sugar that he’s starting to give you a rush.

“Body so soft.”

“Never wanna let you go.”

“You belong here in my arms, hm.”

“Such a sweet, sweet girl.”

In between compliments, he rotates from kissing your temple, cheek, and the corner of your mouth. Your head rests back against his shoulder, eyes resting shut as you feel yourself getting more and more comfortable and aroused by the minute.

When his dominant hand finally finds itself in between your legs and over your clothed crotch, your breathing grows shaky from him cupping at it, shivering at the hold.

“You okay?” he doesn’t remove his hand but stills it, making sure you’ve not grown uncomfortable.

To answer, your thighs squeeze his hand, willingly grinding down into it.

“Keep going, show me more.” you whimpered, getting Sunwoo to smug at your reaction to his efforts. Oh, just you wait.

“Gonna take off your shorts, hm?”

You let him do it, and when they’re off, your bottom is left in your cotton panties. They’re not the most sexy undergarment, and you honestly wish you would’ve worn a different pair. But that was not on Sunwoo’s mind at all.

All he cared about was that he’s one more layer closer to his treasure. He’s beyond excited to meet your pussy. The view of your soft panties being the only thing that comes in between his hand and your folds is heart-stopping.

His fingers experimentally touch your pussy lips through the fabric, slightly applying pressure teasingly. You quake at the touch, a breath stuck in your throat as he strokes the area.

His plump lips part and shift into an amused expression, pleased in how he’s getting you going.

“Hurry… please, Sunwoo.” you whined, cheeks definitely blushing at how overly needful you sound— and are.

A chuckle escapes from Sunwoo’s throat, “Patience, doll. You’ll get my fingers, ‘kay?”

Given how keyed up you are, he strips the last bit of fabric off with your cooperation. Now tossed away, your sex is exposed to the air, and Sunwoo finally gets to touch it raw.

His fingertips carefully sweep over your vulva, tonguing at his teeth when he feels moisture. You shyly mewl at the bare contact.

“Fuck, so wet for me. You excited, baby?” his throat rumbles.

You whined again, red-faced at the vulnerability of all this. In response, he kisses your cheek for comfort, still exploring your outside parts.

“Don’t be embarrassed. How can you be so cute and sexy, hm?”

Before you know it, he finds your clit and nudges at it with diligence, earning a squeak turned moan from you. Bingo.

It inclines you to push your hips upwards, squirming at your boyfriend touching you like this. It’s so different to have someone else play with your cunt. Different, but you can see yourself becoming addicted to it.

He only allows himself to tease your bundle of nerves for a few before diverting his fingers lower, starting to trace around your hole.

“Relax for me.” he murmurs. You let out a breath, allowing him to use his left hand to rub your knee in support, and encourages you to spread your legs out a little more. “Doing so good. Yeah, that’s it.”

After coaxing you, he unexpectedly removes his hand away from your sex. You huff out and draw your mouth open in confusion and protest, but nothing else comes out when you watch Sunwoo stick a finger in between his lips, too stunned at the close-up scene of something so erotic.

For extra insurance, he pops a finger in his mouth to lube it with saliva, lathering it well. He’s aiming for this to go as smoothly as possible.

He smirks while you watch, humming before taking it out and moving back to your cunt.

Once again, he circulates over your entrance, teasing you more before he at last, slips that one finger prudently past your slit.

A whimper bounces out of your mouth from the initial stretch, accommodating to the sensation of your boyfriend’s finger making its debut.

“Ahhh, mhm…”

“Shhhh… It’s okay, I gotchu. Gonna make this feel so good for you.” He gives you heartening kisses, still lingering not that far in yet, giving you time to soak it in slowly.

He’s pretty patient. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Even if you’re impatient for it, he keeps his movements gentle and careful.

A little at a time, he has a decent portion of his finger inserted. He doesn’t move immediately so you can fully adjust.

You then give him the green light, and so he starts playing with your inside.

His finger testingly swirls, intrigued to discover this new territory that gets to be his home— for hopefully forever.

Soft moans come out your mouth before you realize, and you’re suddenly too aware of this intimate situation, feeling like you’re getting a fever.

It’s taking everything in you to not squirm. You opt for burying your face into your boyfriend’s neck in attempt to cover more smutty sounds and burning face.

Sunwoo is displeased with that, though. He halts his finger, pausing any action.

Your brows furrow and the sudden lack of motion has you lifting your head up.

“Why’d you stop?” your eyes were filled with worry. Maybe he’s bored or something’s wrong?

“Don’t hide from me.” his voice is serious. “Lemme hear those pretty moans”

Oh.

His finger moves again. Only this time, he starts to curl it and begins a slow flow of driving it in and out of you.

“Hmmphhh!” you whimpered, breath shaky and heart beat ascending at how sensational it is to have someone fucking you with just their finger.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he smirks, not planning on stopping until he pushes you to your breaking point.

Your sex hormones are going wild, feening for incessant sexual pleasure until you can’t take it anymore.

You’re bucking down to meet the movement of his finger, it having grown not enough rather quicker than you anticipated. Sunwoo has to titter at that, wowed to see how fast you’ve adjusted, and yearn for more.

Since you’re so desperate, he doesn’t warn you when he pushes a second finger past your hole. You gasp, followed by a curse word at the additional stretch.

“Shit, this tight pussy must love me.” his voice is breathy and deep as he feels your walls grip at his fingers.

He’s fucking your cunt now with two fingers, gradually with more pressure and firmer. His fingers pump against the ridges of your walls, moving and bending them, thus bringing you highly concentrated pleasure to your core.

Your arousal soaks his long fingers, above turned on that your hot boyfriend’s hand is creating a new high for you that you thought was unimaginable.

He inflames you even more when he starts to nip at your neck. His mouth’s latched onto your skin while down below, his thrusts just become deeper and deeper. He’s too keen on giving you a divine time that you’d think about for the rest of your life.

“Right there, Sunwoo! Oh my God, s-so good!” you gasped out when he hits a spot that scratches your senses so good.

“Right there, huh?”

Luckily, your boy knows what he’s doing, so he continues to hit that spot continually and not let up. He believes now is when he enhances your brain and body further by making use of his thumb to position over your clit.

He thumbs at your swollen bud, massaging it in an unhurried, but consistent rhythm.

And that sparks something inside you lower region. If you thought your pussy was aching before, it definitely is now.

Your breaths sound quicker and he takes note of you bringing a thumb to your mouth, biting down on it while mewls still slip past your lips. His pumps persist while your walls suck his fingers in like a vacuum as he moves in and out.

Every sound and the sight of you writhing, unable to remain calm, encourages him to not dwindle down on his ministrations.

The pressure applied towards your clit is even but remains slow, making you savor every second of stimulation you get, gradually increasing and turning almost-tender to be touched.

Hot pangs hit in your belly, and you feel like you’re starting to sweat, blood pressure spiking. You’re whimpering pathetically, muscles burning and tensing to break free and let yourself collapse.

It’s clear to Sunwoo that you can’t handle this any longer, evident he’s going to bring you to cum.

Squishy sounds and breathy moans are harmonic to the ears while he’s focused on getting you to snap.

“Gonna cum on my fingers? Is baby girl gonna let my fingers get even more soaked with her cum?”

Mhmphhh! Su— Sunwoo.” you cry out.

“Go ‘head. Lemme feel it.” he coaxes, and like the good girl you are, you do let loose.

As your knot unties, you deeply moan, hand that was near your mouth now gripping at his comforter. Your orgasm takes over you, shivering slightly, ass and thighs becoming spastic.

Your eyes are heavy and you see stars that are sparkling and fading, any sounds coming from the two of you sounding distant as you come down.

“I’m so proud of you, doll.” he mumbles as you catch your breath, face falling into his neck. While his fingers still remain in you, he uses his free hand to caress your head, commending you for staying strong and cumming for him.

As you progressively revert closer back to normal, your mind softens, and you’re craving to melt against your boyfriend. You need to logout from reality, Sunwoo having tired you out from getting busy with your pussy.

He coos at you when he makes you whimper and lift your head at the removal of his fingers. To your surprise, he then gravitates those fingers towards his mouth, closing around them and seemingly drinking up whatever stuck to his digits.

Your eyebrows furrow, joined with the part of your lips at him willingly tasting your fluids. He just looks at you, making exaggerated sounds from sucking and sends you a flirty wink.

You shiver and divert your gaze in shyness, flushing as you look back curiously, watching him pull out his licked-clean fingers.

“I knew you’d taste good.” he growls from the act and your essence getting savored by his taste buds.

“Wanna try?” he asks like nothing, seeing that you’re not calling him out for it, just eyeing him inquisitively.

You don’t say anything, but you still have that look gracing your orbs. He dips his fingers down to your core again, lathering them up in more of your spilled cum. You feel tingly during those seconds that he does so, and he raises them up again, nodding at you if you wanted a taste, too.

Your face leaning in slowly is enough of an answer for him, so he goes to hold your chin with the other hand, delicately slipping his fingers into your hot mouth.

You kindly close around them, timidly licking a finger tip for just a second, then getting comfortable to lap up the rest of your own spills. Your teeth even rake over his digits and your eyes fluttered shut with a hum before opening them.

When you do, there still lays a cutey-appearance behind those eyes he adores, even with you licking your own cum.

From that moment, he recognizes that his obsession for you will be death of him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, stroking the tip of your chin.

“That’s all you, baby girl.”

“So perfect.”

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

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misshoneyimhome · 1 month ago

Note

Your last relic has given me many thoughts! One being a 3some of Willy and Knies. Knies thinks he knows everything there is about pleasing women and Willy shows him that he in fact knows nothing.

Oh absolutely, this combo is definitely one of my top favourites too! 🌺 And honestly, who better to guide the baby Leafs than our calm, collected, and ever-so-charming Swedish boyfriend?

Hopefully I captured even a hint of what you had in mind when it comes to William’s gentle yet confident teaching vibes 🙈

Tropes & warnings: Matthew Knies x reader x William Nylander, Friends to lovers, Smut 18+: Threesome (M/M/F), Oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), Vaginal sex (protected), DVP, Praise kink, soft dom vibes, Gentle guidance, reverence, aftercare

➼｡ﾟ

Bed Chem I William Nylander x reader x Matthew Knies ☆

The moment the final buzzer went off, the building erupted.

You weren’t on the ice, but somehow you felt it all the same—that pulse of adrenaline, the eruption of joy that cracked through the walls of Scotiabank Arena like a sonic boom. The Toronto Maple Leafs had clinched a playoff spot, and the city was electric. So were the players. So were you.

The locker room had been a mess of champagne sprays and booming music, post-game interviews overlapping with spontaneous shouts and camera flashes. But by the time you reached the dimly lit rooftop bar uptown, the energy had mellowed into something warmer. The buzz of victory still hung in the air, but it was laced now with alcohol, cigarette smoke from the balcony, and the sort of grins that came from knowing a season’s worth of grit had finally paid off.

You arrived with a couple of the WAGs, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to find you.

“There she is,” he said, looping an arm around your shoulders like it was second nature. “Thought you were gonna ghost us after the win.”

You gave him a look, amused. “You think I’d miss a party full of sweaty men and overpriced cocktails?”

“Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “But only because you’re smarter than all of us.”

He tugged you toward the bar, ordering you a drink before you could even ask. He remembered your go-to without question—of course he did. You’d been there through enough of his rough nights and quiet ones, holding space and talking him down when the city felt too big, too loud. He’d always said you made it easier.

Tonight, he was golden. Laughing freely, glow from the overhead string lights catching in his tousled curls. You stayed close, not because you felt like you had to—but because being near Matthew always felt like choosing warmth in a cold room.

“You sticking to your usual?” you asked, nodding to the beer in his hand.

He glanced down at the label and made a face. “I dunno, I might need to branch out. Try something more… mature.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, sipping your drink. “Like a whiskey sour?”

“Like a wine spritzer,” he deadpanned.

You choked on your drink mid-laugh, earning a proud smirk from him. That was how the night flowed—easy, playful. You’d drifted in and out of conversations with other guys, teammates leaning over to toast, make a joke, ask you how work was. But Matthew always came back, his hand at the small of your back, his laugh ready for your next sarcastic quip.

You weren’t blind to how the others saw it. You’d heard the chirps. The “When’s the wedding?” comments. The knowing glances. But it wasn’t like that. You were close—had been since the day he’d landed in Toronto, fresh-faced and already exhausted by the noise. You’d been his anchor.

Still, as you leaned against the bar beside him now, the air between you felt… warmer than usual. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the way his thumb absently brushed your wrist. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, you didn’t feel the need to pull away.

And that’s when Mitch, two beers deep and already in rare form, decided to start chirping.

“Mattie, be honest,” he called out across the lounge. “You bring your own PR girl out for moral support, or is this part of your new strategy?”

Matthew didn’t flinch. “She’s just here to keep me humble.”

You rolled your eyes, but Mitch wasn’t done.

“No seriously—dude acts like he’s a girl whisperer just ‘cause he got a couple swipe rights after a hat trick.”

“That was one time,” Matthew muttered.

“I bet he still thinks making a girl laugh is enough to get her off,” Mitch added, practically giggling now.

You turned your head toward Matthew, sipping your drink with a smirk. “Is that true, Kniesy? Is that your big secret weapon?”

His eyes flicked to yours, somewhere between defensive and amused. “Maybe… you know, I’m very attentive.”

“Oh, so you’ve read a women’s magazine before.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning in, “I didn’t say Cosmo wasn’t a resource.”

Laughter broke across the group. Even you giggled—genuinely. He was good at that, at making you laugh without trying too hard.

And still, you felt it: a shift in the air. The faint buzz of someone watching.

You turned your head, casually scanning the room.

William stood near the windows. Alone.

A glass of something amber in his hand, one foot crossed over the other, posture relaxed—but his eyes were trained on you. He looked like something out of a noir film. Gold hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck, sharp jaw highlighted in low light, blue eyes unreadable but unwavering.

You hadn’t spoken much tonight. A few words in passing. A gentle squeeze of your elbow when you first arrived. But you knew that look. You’d felt it before.

William Nylander didn’t hover. He didn’t chase. But he watched—especially when it came to you. Not possessive. Not overt. Just… watchful. Like someone who kept the perimeter clear without ever needing to be asked.

You turned back to your drink before your thoughts could spiral.

“So,” Matthew said, leaning in with a grin. “Back me up here. You do think I’m a good listener, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re an excellent listener. When it comes to Spotify playlists and Uber Eats orders.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged, teasing. “Your success rate with women might have less to do with skill and more to do with… face symmetry.”

Matthew groaned. “Unbelievable.”

You leaned into his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for only him to hear. “You’re cute. You’ve got a good heart. But I don’t think you know quite as much as you think you do.”

He looked down at you, playful spark dimming just a bit into something more earnest. “So teach me.”

The words hung between you for a beat longer than they should have.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before William joined your side.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped in, sitting close enough that his arm brushed yours. He was still holding his drink, but his attention was fully on the two of you now. And Matthew—bless him—sat up straighter.

William’s voice was quiet but firm. “Some lessons take more than charm.”

Matthew blinked. “Wasn’t asking you, bro.”

“I know,” William replied, eyes still on you. “But maybe she should.”

Your pulse jumped.

The banter was still there. The teasing. But something else had slipped underneath it. Something sharper. He wasn’t just joking. And neither were you.

You swallowed, trying to mask the heat rising in your chest. The room had shifted, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way both of them were looking at you now—like you were something worth studying. Something worth sharing.

Somewhere deep in your gut, you felt it:

This night was far from over.

It was always like that with team nights out—one moment the room was buzzing, too full, too loud, everyone trying to shout over each other, and the next it was emptying out, drinks half-finished, jackets thrown over shoulders, plans whispered between teammates as they slipped out in pairs or small groups.

You hadn’t noticed how late it was until you checked your phone. Past one.

Someone had changed the playlist from classic bar bangers to something smoother, bass-heavy, the kind of rhythm you felt in your chest before you even recognised the song. The laughter had faded. The clinking glasses, too. And when you finally looked up from the low leather couch, it hit you—nearly everyone had left.

Nearly.

Matthew was still beside you, legs spread, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh, leaning forward now like the weight of the day had finally hit him. He looked relaxed. Buzzed. Eyes soft and cheeks still faintly flushed.

William stood a few feet away, now with his drink abandoned on the edge of a side table. He was rolling the hem of his sleeve with slow, careful fingers, like he had nowhere else to be.

You wet your lips, heart skipping when the silence held. It wasn’t awkward. But it wasn’t casual either.

Matthew exhaled a short laugh. “Didn’t realise we were the stragglers.”

“Or the smart ones,” William offered, finally sitting down in the armchair across from you both.

You watched the way he lounged into it, like his body already knew how to own a space before his mind even tried. William was… intimidating in the quiet. Not because he was trying to be—but because there was something about his silence that felt like a secret.

Matthew gave a half-smile. “Guess that means we get the afterparty.”

You stretched your arms above your head and hummed. “Or we’re just too stubborn to go home.”

“Speak for yourself,” Matthew said. “I live for moments like this.”

“Like what?”

“This,” he gestured around. “End of the night. No pressure. Just… honesty.”

You looked at him sideways, surprised.

William tilted his head. “That usually comes after drink number six.”

“Exactly,” Matthew grinned. “We’ve reached that stage.”

You didn’t say anything at first, just let your gaze bounce between them. The air felt… different. Still warm, but thicker. Slower.

“So,” Matthew said, suddenly glancing at you, “what’s the most honest thing you’ve said to someone after midnight?”

You blinked. “That’s a loaded question.”

“I know. That’s why I asked it.”

You smiled. “I told someone I was in love with their dog once.”

Matthew snorted. “That tracks.”

You glanced at William. “Your turn.”

He looked at you, then at Matthew. “I told someone I didn’t want just sex.”

That pulled the air tight.

Matthew blinked. You stared.

“Well, damn,” Matthew said softly. “Didn’t expect you to go deep.”

William just shrugged. “Honesty, right?”

You looked at him a moment longer. The calm in his voice wasn’t forced. There was no bitterness. But something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

“What about you?” William asked, nodding at Matthew.

Matthew hesitated. Then smirked. “I once told a girl I could make her come just with my mouth.”

You burst out laughing. “No, you didn’t.”

He raised a hand in mock-defence. “Hey, she agreed with me.”

“Was she unconscious?”

William chuckled. “That’s the cockiest thing I’ve heard all week.”

Matthew grinned. “I’m just saying, I’m good at what I do.”

You gave him a look, playful but sharp. “You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who thought clitoral stimulation was a TikTok trend.”

Matthew feigned a gasp. “I did not!”

“You did,” William added, unbothered. “In the group chat. We all remember.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

You were laughing again, but something about the heat in your cheeks wasn’t just from amusement. It was Matthew’s eyes on you, bold and youthful, and William’s steadier gaze—quiet, unreadable, but somehow deeper. You felt the shift again. That edge between teasing and something else. Something closer to a line neither of you had acknowledged yet.

You stretched your legs out across Matthew’s lap without thinking. He rested his hands lightly on your shins, thumbs brushing over your skin. William’s eyes followed the movement, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” you said, tone light but voice quieter, “for a guy who claims to be so good with women, you never really struck me as someone who… understood them.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

You nodded. “You’re enthusiastic. And sweet. But I think you think enthusiasm can replace intuition.”

He looked genuinely intrigued. “So what, I need a mentor?”

“Maybe,” you teased. “Someone older. Wiser. More… Swedish.”

William didn’t even blink. “You offering your services?”

You paused. The words hung there.

Then you tilted your head. “Maybe I am.”

Matthew leaned back, mock serious. “Are we talking about, like… a coaching session?”

You smirked. “You couldn’t handle me, Kniesy.”

“Try me.”

William shifted in his seat, jaw flexing just slightly. “He might try, but he won’t finish.”

Your breath hitched.

Matthew grinned, playing it cool. “You think you’d do better?”

William’s gaze never left yours. “I know I would.”

That’s when it happened. That moment. The second when everything tipped sideways. Because you weren’t joking anymore. And neither were they.

And God help you, but the idea didn’t scare you. It thrilled you.

You took a breath, heart pounding. “We could always find out.” The words slipped out softer than you expected. Barely more than a whisper.

Matthew blinked. “Wait—are you… serious?”

You looked between them. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the tension that had been brewing for years. Your pulse was screaming, but your gut was calm. “I trust you both,” you said. “And I… want to feel good. I want to be with people who know me. Who care.”

William leaned forward slowly. “We’d never do anything you weren’t sure about.”

Matthew nodded, eyes wide but sincere. “We’d take care of you.”

You gave a slow, steady nod. “Then let’s go.”

No one moved for a moment. It was like the silence itself needed a second to process what had just happened.

Then William stood first, walking over to you and offering a hand. You took it without hesitation. Matthew followed close behind, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one shoulder.

And as you stepped into the cool spring air, sandwiched between two men who suddenly looked at you like you were a star they couldn’t stop orbiting, your chest tightened—not in fear, but in anticipation.

Because this wasn’t just a wild idea anymore.

This was happening.

And something told you… it would change everything.

William’s place was warm.

Not just physically, though the condo had that lived-in luxury—soft lighting, clean lines, the smell of cologne and something woodsy hanging faintly in the air. But the warmth came from something else. The quiet, steady kind. The way William held the door for you and Matthew. The way he let you walk in first like you belonged here.

You’d been in this place before—group hangs, pre-game meet-ups, the odd Sunday movie night when the guys needed normalcy. But never like this. Never with this undercurrent humming beneath your skin, this sense that every movement was leading somewhere.

“Can I get you guys anything?” William asked, already shrugging off his jacket.

You shook your head, still standing in the entryway, heartbeat too loud.

“No,” Matthew said softly. “I think we’re good.”

William looked over his shoulder at you, eyes darker now. “Then come here.”

You moved slowly, unsure but not nervous. Like stepping out onto a frozen lake—you could feel the tension beneath the surface, but something in you trusted it to hold.

Matthew trailed behind you, a step or two slower, his usual confidence muted now into something gentler. Watching you. Watching William.

You stood in the centre of the living room, just a breath apart, the three of you hovering like magnets waiting to be pulled together.

It was William who crossed the distance first.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“You sure?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His kiss was soft. Focused. Like he’d wanted to kiss you for a long, long time and was finally allowing himself the pleasure. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was knowing.

You leaned into it before you realised, one hand sliding up his chest, anchoring yourself to the steady beat of his heart.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to glance past you—to Matthew.

“Come here.”

Matthew obeyed. You felt his presence at your back, warm and close, as his hand found your waist and his lips grazed your neck.

“God,” he breathed. “This is… so much better than anything I ever imagined.”

You laughed softly, breath catching as he pressed a kiss behind your ear. “You imagined this?”

“I’m a guy,” he said. “We imagine everything.”

William chuckled low, one hand sliding along your arm. “Then stop imagining.”

And just like that, it began.

They moved with you, not at you—guiding you gently to the sofa, William sitting first and tugging you into his lap, your knees straddling him as Matthew settled beside you, hands brushing your thighs like a question.

You kissed William again, deeper now, more need curling beneath your skin. You felt Matthew’s lips at your shoulder, his hands climbing slowly up your torso, fingertips teasing beneath your blouse.

When he reached the first button, he paused.

“This okay?”

You nodded.

One by one, the buttons came undone. Then William’s hands joined his—warm palms sliding up your back as they helped you ease out of the fabric.

Every touch felt intentional. Every movement filled with quiet reverence.

“You’re beautiful,” Matthew whispered. “Like, unfairly.”

You turned your head and kissed him—Matthew—softly, testing the space between you, surprised by how natural it felt. How right. There was no hesitation, no awkward clash of lips. Just warmth. The heat of his breath mingling with yours as his mouth parted under the pressure, tasting of beer and something more.

Your fingers curled at his nape, drawing him in as you deepened it, emboldened by the low sound he made—half sigh, half groan. His hands stayed respectfully on your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles just above the hem of your jeans, as though memorising the feel of your body, asking for permission with every pass of skin on skin.

Then you felt another pair of hands—steady, sure, achingly familiar.

William’s.

They skimmed low, trailing from your ribs to your hips, where they caught the waistband of your jeans and knickers. He moved with careful intention, tugging them downward in one smooth, patient motion. You rose slightly, shifting your weight just enough to let him help you out of them completely.

The moment you were bare, the air hit your skin—cool, sharp, electric.

And then William’s mouth followed.

He kissed your inner thigh first, just above the knee, a slow drag of lips and breath that made you twitch. Then higher. Then higher still. You felt the stubble on his jaw graze you gently, his nose nudge soft skin as he pressed closer. And finally, the warmth of his breath against your core.

You couldn’t help it—you gasped.

His hands came to rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing lines along their curve as he knelt between your legs. His eyes lifted to meet yours, sharp and dark and reverent, like he was about to say grace.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “About tasting you. About making you fall apart.”

And then his mouth was on you.

Firm. Intentional. Unhurried.

His tongue swept through your folds with maddening precision, teasing before pressing flat against your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He moaned softly into you, and the vibration alone sent a bolt of heat through your spine.

Your back arched, hands scrambling for something to hold on to. One found his shoulder. The other slid into his hair—thick, soft, a little damp with sweat—and you tugged, instinctively, just enough to feel him groan in response. The sound went straight through you.

You could feel every detail. Every flick of his tongue. Every purposeful pause. Every moment he let his nose nudge against your thigh like he couldn’t get close enough. It was overwhelming. And still—somehow—exactly what you needed.

Beside you, Matthew hadn’t moved far. His breath was uneven now, chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a shift. He reached out with one hand, stroking the length of your arm with gentle reverence. His other hand cradled your jaw, grounding you in his presence as his lips found yours again—slow, coaxing kisses that gave you something to hold onto while William unraveled you below.

Your thighs began to shake. That pressure—low, hot, coiling—was building fast.

“W-Willy,” you gasped, hips tilting into his mouth.

And then he stopped.

Pulled back. Licked his lips.

You let out a sound—needy, wrecked, half-whimper.

He just smiled. “Your turn,” he told Matthew, his voice rough and knowing.

Matthew looked like he might combust on the spot.

“I—I don’t wanna ruin the fun,” he admitted, flushed to the ears, breath catching.

“You won’t,” William said calmly, standing to his full height. “Watch. Listen. Then try.”

You moved in your position, pulse still racing, as you lay back on the couch, legs open and draped across the cushions in invitation. Matthew moved between them, eyes wide, searching your face like you were sacred scripture.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this.”

He started slow. Tongue tentative. Hands a little unsure, but sweet. So sweet.

William crouched beside him, not touching either of you—just guiding. “Go slower. Focus on the top. Feel her breathing. Let that guide you.”

Matthew listened. Really listened.

He adjusted. Tilted his head. Flattened his tongue. One of his hands splayed against your lower stomach, the other steadied your thigh, and he moaned when he felt you twitch beneath him.

Your breath caught.

He was definitely a quick learner. Smart and curious. And when he found that rhythm—pressure and pace just right—you let your head fall back with a cry.

“Matt—oh my God—”

He kept going. Determined now and focused. He sucked your clit a few times, and just like that you came, hard and fast—hips bucking, hands fisting the cushions, voice echoing through the room as the coil inside you snapped and pleasure rushed over you in waves.

Matthew pulled back slowly, lips shiny, eyes wide with something like awe.

“Oh… yes,” he breathed, resting his head on your thigh like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “That was—holy shit.”

William chuckled softly from above you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you.”

You were still shaking, heart pounding, chest heaving.

And then they came back to you. William next to you on the couch, lifting you gently into his lap, kissing your temple. Matthew kneeling at your feet, stroking your calves as he gazed up at you with something between pride and disbelief.

And then, like they’d rehearsed it, they kissed you—one on the neck, one on your lips. Like you were sacred. Like you were theirs.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were.

“More?” William asked, his voice husky, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, breath shaky, body still humming from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Say it,” he whispered, his hand trailing down your side, anchoring you with every touch. “Tell us what you want.”

Your reply was a breath, a confession. “I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

The air shifted—like something ancient and silent had just been summoned. They helped you up, warm hands on your arms and hips as you left the sofa behind and padded down the hallway together. William guided you into his bedroom, dimly lit and clean, with soft sheets and the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air. You could hear Matthew behind you, the slight catch in his breath, the soft creak of the floorboard under his weight.

Your back met the edge of the bed, and you sank down gently as you watched them both undress completely.

William stood at the foot of it, eyes dark with restraint as he reached into the nightstand drawer. He slid a condom out of the box, tore it open with ease, and rolled it on with a practiced hand, his gaze never leaving you. Then he climbed onto the bed, shifting beside you and drawing you gently to your side, body curled around yours.

His hands were everywhere—stroking your spine in long, grounding sweeps, massaging your hips with reverence, touching you like he was reminding himself you were real. One of your legs lifted to hook over his hip, welcoming him in.

He kissed your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, before positioning himself at your entrance.

And then—slowly, carefully—he pressed in.

The stretch made your eyes flutter shut. You gasped, body arching instinctively as the fullness hit, his body molding to yours in the most intimate way. The heat of his chest at your back. The sound of his breath at your ear. It was more than sex—it was surrender.

You opened your eyes—and there was Matthew.

Standing in front of you, one hand loosely gripping the base of his cock, the other resting against his stomach. He was flushed, eyes heavy, lips parted as he watched William sink into you.

You reached for him. “Come here.”

He did.

You took him in your hand first—slow, teasing strokes that made his hips twitch—before guiding him gently to your lips. You kissed the tip, then slid your mouth over him inch by inch, letting the moan in your throat reverberate around him.

William began to move behind you. Long, deep thrusts. Controlled. Reverent. His fingers tightened around your waist as he matched the rhythm of your mouth.

It was overwhelming—in the best possible way. The push and pull. The heat. The rhythm of William moving inside you, the weight of Matthew on your tongue, their soft groans and praises surrounding you like a lullaby spun from sin and safety.

You were the centre of gravity. And you wanted more.

You pulled off Matthew with a whimper, lips wet, hand still stroking him slowly. “I want to feel you too,” you whispered to him. “Please.”

They stilled.

William’s hand traced down your side, grounding you. Matthew looked at you like he was trying to memorise you.

A pause. Then William’s voice, low and careful: “You’re sure?”

You nodded. “Yes. I want this. I want both of you.”

William then gently pulled out before Matthew reached for a condom with shaking hands, tearing it open and rolling it on with quiet reverence. Then he lay back on the mattress, propped on pillows, arms open in invitation.

You climbed over him slowly, one knee on each side of his hips, gently and slowly guiding him to your entrance. You gasped as you eased down onto him—already sensitive, already aching—and he moaned beneath you, hands flying to your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You rode him slowly at first, trying to catch your breath. But then William was behind you again—steady, calm, the grounding presence he always was. He pressed soft kisses between your shoulder blades, hands sliding along your waist.

“Lean forward for me,” he murmured.

You obeyed, bracing your hands on either side of Matthew’s head. His arms cradled your back, keeping you steady as William positioned himself again.

You felt him—hot and hard—at your entrance. And then, with excruciating care, he pushed inside.

The stretch made you cry out. Your fingers curled into the sheets. Your body trembled with the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” William breathed into your shoulder. “Let me in. Let us take care of you.”

They held still for a long moment, letting you adjust. Letting your body catch up to the sensation of being filled completely.

Then—slowly—they began to move.

In sync.

One pushing while the other pulled. A rhythm of careful thrusts and reverent touches. Their hands roamed your body like you were art. Their lips brushed against your back, your shoulder, your neck. Matthew’s eyes locked with yours, wide and worshipful.

You’d never felt anything like it. Not even close.

The pleasure was molten. Liquid. Spreading through you like wildfire. Your moans turned to cries. Their names spilled from your lips like prayers.

You came first.

It hit like a wave—your body shuddering, your thighs quaking, your voice cracking as they held you between them, coaxing you through it.

Matthew followed next, gasping your name as he thrust deep one last time, head thrown back against the pillow.

William came last—always controlled, always composed—his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried himself fully, groaning into your skin as he let go.

And then…

Stillness.

Just the sound of breathing. The weight of their bodies. The lingering tremble in your limbs.

You collapsed between them, chest heaving, every nerve ending singing.

No one spoke. They didn’t have to.

It was quiet.

Not the kind of silence that begged to be filled—but the kind that settled in like a warm blanket, the kind that only followed something honest. Something real. Like your bodies had said more than words ever could, and now the quiet was just the breath between pages.

You lay between them. Skin still flushed, heartbeat finally slowing. Matthew beneath you, chest rising and falling, one hand still tracing lazy patterns up and down your back. William behind you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the other splayed across your ribs like he never wanted to let go.

No one moved. Not really.

Matthew let out a low, exhausted chuckle.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

You smiled, face buried against his chest. “Can’t feel my brain.”

William kissed the top of your spine. “Can’t feel bad about that.”

You laughed softly—genuine, a little sleepy. Your muscles ached, but not in a way that hurt. More like the echo of something good. Something earned.

They stayed close, touching you gently like you might disappear if they let go for even a second.

You shifted slightly, limbs heavy, letting your cheek rest against Matthew’s chest. His skin was warm. His heartbeat steady.

“I still feel like I’m floating,” you murmured.

“Same,” he said, voice low, a little shy now. “That was…”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

William’s voice came from behind you, soft and steady. “You were perfect.”

You turned your head just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“So were you.”

He smiled—slow, tired, full of something that made your heart clench.

“I mean it,” he said. “You didn’t just… let us have you. You trusted us. That matters.”

Matthew nodded. “It really does.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of those words sink in. Maybe it should’ve felt overwhelming. Maybe you should’ve been second-guessing everything. But all you felt was… full.

In every sense of the word.

“Alright,” William said, sitting up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You started to protest, but he was already easing you up, his hands gentle, movements unhurried. Matthew helped too, his touch soft, reverent, the teasing edge from earlier now replaced with something tender.

William disappeared into the ensuite, returning a moment later with a warm cloth and a bottle of water.

He crouched beside the bed, pressing the bottle into your hands. “Small sips.”

You obeyed.

Then he brushed a damp cloth between your thighs, movements careful, almost clinical—but still loving. Like he was honouring the body he’d just worshipped.

You touched his wrist lightly, silently thanking him.

When he finished, he climbed back into bed beside you. You reached for him without thinking. Matthew rolled over too, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“We should probably talk,” you whispered, unsure where the thought came from, but knowing it needed to be said.

“Eventually,” William said, already pulling the covers up over all three of you. “But not tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matthew echoed. “Let’s just… be.”

You sank into the sheets, wrapped in warmth and the scent of their skin.

The weight of the moment finally settled in your chest—not heavy, but real.

Because this wasn’t just some wild night. Not something you’d laugh about tomorrow and lock away in a mental file labelled “one-time mistakes.”

This was something else. Something that shifted tectonic plates you hadn’t realised were movable.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. You didn’t know what this meant for any of you.

But right now, in this bed, with two men who had just shown you more tenderness and reverence than you’d ever expected to receive in your entire life—right now, you weren’t afraid.

You were seen. Held. Wanted.

And when you finally drifted off, tangled between William’s quiet strength and Matthew’s golden warmth, the last thing you felt was a kiss on your forehead… and a voice, low and steady, murmuring into the dark:

“Sleep, baby. We’ve got you.”

#my asks #smut 18+#william nylander x reader x Matthew knies #william nylander imagine #matthew knies imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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airybcby · 11 days ago

Text

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what are you doing to me now?

( michael kaiser x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — wrote this bc of this thought and this ask . ( i got carried away, prob doesn't even flow )

♡ word count — 5.4k

♡ content — College AU!, all characters are 18+ (21), Kaiser is a jerk, kaiser and isagi both play on the university's soccer team. YES they still hate each other, tutor! reader, some cussing, pregnancy mentioned (once), isagi and reader are best friends, fem! reader, could be gn but fem! bodied reader, heavily based on OTH haley and nathan's relationship, fluff, nicknames 'tutor girl' and 'my girl' used

♡ synopsis — you only started tutoring michael kaiser so he would leave isagi alone, but now you're starting to feel like it's more.

── .✦ i never could have seen you coming, i think you're everything i've wanted

The tutoring center always smelled faintly of coffee and stress.

You’d carved out your corner near the back, tucked between a wall of dusty anthologies and a window that barely opened.

It was quiet there, undisturbed — a pocket of peace in the chaos of campus life. Tuesdays were your favorite.

You had Yoichi, a venti iced coffee, and a stack of highlighters in your favorite shades.

Routine.

Comfortable.

“Okay,” you said, tapping your pen gently on his notebook. “What’s the limit as x approaches infinity?”

Yoichi groaned like you’d asked him to recite Shakespeare backwards. “I swear this made more sense last night.”

You bit back a smile. “Because last night, you let me explain it to you without making faces.”

“I don’t make faces—”

“You do. You look like you’re in pain.”

“I am in pain,” he argued. “This class is actually trying to kill me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you said, still grinning.

That’s when it happened.

A shift in the air. A low ripple of murmurs. The kind of disturbance that came with someone too loud, too confident, too seen. Your eyes flicked up, instinctively, and froze when they landed on the cause.

Michael Kaiser.

He walked in like the room belonged to him — chin high, hair tousled, blue eyes sharp and scanning. His uniform jacket hung off his frame like a tailored threat, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, showing off the tattoos you tried very hard not to look at. Not that he noticed you.

Until he did.

Until he noticed Isagi.

Then you.

You didn’t like the way he smiled — all ego, all teeth.

And worst of all, calculated.

He didn’t approach you that day. Just walked past slowly, a predator pretending to be casual, before choosing a desk three rows down.

You felt his eyes every now and then, lingering like smoke.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You were here to help Yoichi.

Whatever game Kaiser was playing, you weren’t signing up for it.

But Michael Kaiser had a way of turning no into a challenge.

It was the next day — gray skies, your hands full of books — when you heard the voice behind you.

“Hey, tutor girl.”

You turned slowly. “Please don’t call me that.”

Michael Kaiser stood there with his usual smirk, walking backwards to keep up with you.

“You don’t even know my name,” you said, dryly.

“Don’t need to,” he replied easily. “Everyone knows who you are. You’re the genius who babysits Isagi through every core class.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re trying to insult me, you’re going to have to do better.”

“Oh, I’m not insulting you,” he said, mock-offended. “I respect your work. That’s why I’m here. I need a tutor.”

You stopped walking. “You’re serious?”

“Deathly.”

“And you want me?”

“You’re the best,” he said simply, with a shrug. “And I’m drowning. My coach is two bad grades away from benching me, and if I don’t fix this, I’ll get benched during qualifiers.”

“So this is desperation.”

“Exactly.”

You stared at him, arms crossing. “Then go ask someone else.”

His expression didn’t falter. “Can’t. Already tried. They're all scared of me.”

You gave him a look. “And you think I’m not?”

“I think you’re smarter than that.”

You blinked. Okay. That was... not the response you were expecting.

Then he leaned in, just a little, voice lower. “Tutor me, and I’ll leave Isagi alone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No more trash talk. No more cheap shots during practice. I’ll stop getting in his head. You help me pass, and he gets peace.”

You hated how tempting that sounded.

You’d seen Yoichi’s mood spiral every time Kaiser made a comment, took a jab, twisted the knife just right.

You weren’t blind. You knew what kind of war the two of them waged on and off the pitch.

“This isn’t some bribe,” you warned. “If you so much as look at him wrong—”

“Cross my heart,” he said, placing a hand dramatically on his chest.

You stared at him for a long moment. “One hour. Twice a week. That’s it.”

“Knew I could count on you, tutor girl.”

“Call me that again and I’ll flunk you on purpose.”

He grinned, triumphant, like he’d won the best prize of all.

And that made you hate him a little more.

Michael Kaiser didn’t act like someone who needed help.

He sprawled across the library table like he was at home, foot bouncing, pencil in his mouth, looking up at the ceiling like he could will the answers down.

You tried not to look at the way his shirt bunched around his arms, or how he chewed on his pencil when he was stuck.

“It’s a miracle you’re passing,” you muttered.

“That’s all you, baby,” he replied, voice muffled by the pencil.

You threw a highlighter at him. “Stop calling me that.”

“You’re no fun,” he said, dodging it with a grin. “But seriously. You’re good at this.”

You paused. That wasn’t sarcasm. It was... weirdly sincere.

“Thanks,” you said, cautiously.

A beat of silence. A rare one.

Then you looked up and froze.

Isagi.

Standing at the end of the row, arms stiff at his sides. His eyes darted from you to Kaiser and back.

Nothing was happening — no touching, no laughing, no whispered secrets. But still, your stomach dropped.

“Yoichi—” you stood quickly, knocking your chair back.

“This guy?” Isagi cut you off, voice low. “Anyone but him.”

“We’re not— I’m his tutor,” you said, trying to close the distance. “That’s all.”

Kaiser watched with interest, head tilted, lips twitching like he wanted to say something.

“God,” Isagi muttered, looking away. “Go find someone else, you prick.”

“Well, I quite—” Kaiser started, but Isagi stepped forward, finger pointed hard against your chest.

“I thought you were smarter,” he snapped. The words hit harder than they should.

You watched him turn and walk away, tension bleeding into every step. And then there was silence.

You didn’t realize you were shaking until Kaiser stood up, gently pulling the chair upright.

“He’s got a flair for the dramatic,” he said, quietly.

You didn’t answer.

Because the worst part wasn’t what Isagi said.

It was the tiny, traitorous part of you that wasn’t sure he was wrong.

You didn’t mean to lose Isagi.

It just… happened.

One day, you were laughing over half-priced pastries and solving calculus proofs over FaceTime, and the next — you were passing each other like strangers.

You kept waiting for it to go back to normal.

For him to sit in your usual spot in seminar, for him to send you a link to some dumb meme at midnight.

But every time you reached out, even in silence, he recoiled.

Like you’d betrayed him.

And maybe, in his eyes, you had.

Because Michael Kaiser wasn’t just anyone. He was Isagi’s rival. His irritant. His shadow. You knew this. You’d seen the fire between them on the field — the teeth-gritted remarks, the way they pushed each other past the edge, the way neither of them ever backed down.

So maybe sitting beside Kaiser, laughing quietly during a tutoring session, was the final straw.

But you never meant for it to be like this.

A week passed. Then another.

Your texts stayed unread. Your usual seat in seminar stayed empty. You stopped bringing two coffees in the morning. And the ache — the dull, pressing kind — lodged itself in your chest like something unfinished.

But Michael Kaiser stayed.

He showed up on time. He took notes. Sometimes he even tried. It was strange, the way he began to settle into the space Yoichi had left behind. Not replacing him — that wasn’t possible — but filling something. The walks after tutoring, the shared silence while flipping pages, the way he sometimes brought snacks and pretended he didn’t.

The problem was: it started feeling easy. Not in the way it had with Yoichi. But in a new, unexpected way.

And that scared you more than you wanted to admit.

It was a Thursday.

Gray skies again, soft rain tapping the windows. You were both seated at the same table as always, your books stacked neatly in front of you, your notes open and highlighted. Kaiser was tapping his pencil — not anxiously, just rhythmically — like he was thinking.

You weren’t.

You were spiraling.

The silence stretched too long. The ache in your chest was louder than ever. Your mouth moved before you had the chance to stop it.

“I can’t tutor you anymore.”

The words landed softly, like snowfall. But they cut deep.

Kaiser blinked, slowly. “What?”

You inhaled, then shook your head. “I just— I can’t do this.”

“Did I do something?” he asked, frowning for real this time. No teasing. No smugness. Just confusion. “Because if this is about the derivatives test, I told you I studied—”

“It’s not that.”

You stood up, then sat back down, palms pressed to your thighs. Your voice cracked before you could steady it. “It’s Isagi.”

His eyes flickered. “What about him?”

“We’ve been best friends since high school,” you said, quietly. “He was there for me when everything else wasn’t. When I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. He believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself.”

Kaiser was still now. No tapping. No shifting.

“And now he won’t even look at me,” you continued. “He avoids me. Takes different routes to class. Won’t answer my messages. And it’s because of this. Because of you.”

You didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation. But it hung in the air like one.

Kaiser’s gaze dropped for a moment. Then he looked up, something raw in his voice.

“I need you.”

You blinked. “You’re passing now. I mean—”

“Only because of you,” he said, quiet but firm. “You think I give a shit about tutors? About studying? I could’ve coasted through this semester like I’ve done every other one. But you— you made it impossible to just sit back and let myself fail.”

You swallowed hard.

“You made me try. And I don’t do that for anyone.”

There was something so unguarded about him in that moment, it knocked the breath from your lungs.

“But this… this thing between you and Isagi,” you murmured, the words trembling now, “it matters. He matters. I don’t want to keep choosing someone who makes him hate me.”

“I’m not asking you to choose,” Kaiser said, softer this time. “I’m just asking you to stay.”

You stared at him. At the quiet plea buried in his voice. At the way his usual arrogance had melted, just for a moment.

And the worst part?

You wanted to.

You wanted to believe that Isagi would come around. That this mess would untangle itself. That friendships as old as yours didn’t just dissolve over misunderstandings and misplaced loyalty.

Maybe that was foolish.

But somehow, sitting there with Kaiser watching you like the world would shift if you walked away — it felt like something worth holding onto.

So you nodded.

“I’ll stay,” you said.

And weirdly, that felt like the beginning of something.

Not a replacement.

But a new page.

It had been almost a month.

Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. Nearly 672 hours since Yoichi Isagi last looked you in the eye.

And maybe that made you dramatic. Maybe it made you sensitive. But when someone had been your best friend since you were sixteen — when they’d held your hand through breakups, failed exams, breakdowns and birthdays — their silence was louder than anything else.

You waited.

You gave him time.

But it was clear now that if you didn’t do something, you’d lose him entirely.

And you weren’t ready for that. Not yet. Not ever.

So you did the only rational thing a desperate, emotionally volatile girl could do when she knew her best friend’s post-training routine like the back of her hand.

You marched straight into the men’s locker room.

The sound of your sneakers hitting tile echoed like a war drum.

Conversation halted.

Steam curled from the showers in thick clouds, and you were immediately met with a variety of reactions: screams, curses, frantic scrambling for towels. A few guys dove behind lockers like it was enemy fire. One or two stared at you in stunned silence, not even attempting to cover themselves — and you tried really hard not to look.

Really hard.

“Jesus Christ!” someone yelled.

“Yo— what the hell, are you lost?!”

You ignored them, eyes scanning the rows of bodies and benches and half-zipped bags until you saw him.

Isagi Yoichi. Pulling a shirt over his head, still damp from the shower, hair messy, body tensed like he’d heard a ghost.

Perfect.

You stomped toward him, rage in your throat, grief in your heart, and grabbed the hem of his shirt mid-motion — trapping him inside it.

“Sorry, boys! Just need to borrow him!” you announced, flashing a tight smile over your shoulder.

Then you yanked him — quite literally — out of the locker room.

Isagi stumbled behind you like a hostage, half shirted, half stunned, and entirely too quiet.

You didn’t let go until you hit the hallway, just outside the doors. And by then, he’d managed to finally pull the shirt down over his torso.

His eyes found yours immediately. Wide. Angry.

“What the hell?!” he snapped.

You crossed your arms, glaring. “Stop avoiding me.”

“I’m not!”

“Oh, bullshit, Yoichi!” you shouted. “You switched seats in every single class, you take the longest damn route to lecture, and I haven’t heard your voice in weeks—”

“Well then stop hanging out with him!” he shouted back, louder than you expected.

The hallway went silent.

The ‘him’ hung between you like smoke. You didn’t have to ask. He meant Kaiser.

Of course he did.

Your mouth opened, defensive, too fast. “You don’t—”

“Know him like you do?” he shot back, bitter. “Whatever. I don’t need to. I know he’s a good-for-nothing bastard who—”

“He’s not like that with me!” you snapped, voice cracking halfway through.

That stopped him.

Isagi stared at you.

Really looked at you.

You were flushed, chest heaving, eyes glassy with everything you hadn’t said in a month. And maybe it wasn’t even about Kaiser anymore.

Maybe it was about the way your heart ached every time you passed an empty seat or an unread message.

About the fact that you still poured two coffees every morning out of habit.

“...You can’t be serious,” he said softly, like the words hurt him.

You stared. “What?”

“What now, Yoichi? What can’t I—”

He cut you off.

“You like him,” he said, breathless. “For fuck’s sake, you like Michael Kaiser.”

You opened your mouth to protest.

But the words didn’t come.

Because suddenly, maybe you did.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t nothing.

Maybe it was the way he made you feel seen.

The way he paid attention.

The way he told you he needed you, and for once, meant it.

“I never…” you tried, but your voice cracked on the first syllable.

You blinked hard. The tears were right there, balancing like glass.

“I just…” you swallowed, “…I just want us to be okay again.”

Isagi exhaled.

Long and slow.

His face softened, but only just. You could still see the hurt underneath — the cracks that hadn’t healed, the disappointment lodged in his chest like a splinter.

And for a moment, you thought he’d say something awful. Or maybe something kind.

But instead, he gave you neither.

Just a quiet, “...Just be careful.”

That was it.

He turned and walked back inside, not sparing you another glance.

The door swung shut behind him, leaving you alone in the silence.

Not forgiven.

Not forgotten.

But maybe, maybe, not entirely abandoned either.

And for now, you’d take that.

You had been avoiding him.

Kaiser.

Like he was a loaded weapon and you were one wrong look away from pulling the trigger.

It started with skipping a week of tutoring — a text sent an hour before your usual meeting time, saying something vague about being busy.

Then another.

Eventually, you just stopped answering altogether.

You didn’t go near the library.

You didn’t walk past the fields.

You even rerouted your entire morning routine just to make sure you wouldn’t see that flash of blond across the quad.

Because you couldn’t look at him. Not after what Isagi had said — no, what you had practically confirmed.

You like him. For fuck’s sake, you like Michael Kaiser.

The words still echoed in your head when it was quiet.

And the worst part?

You weren’t sure he was wrong.

Which made this all so much harder. You weren’t trying to hurt Kaiser. But avoiding him — pushing him away — felt easier than admitting how tangled things had gotten inside you.

But when the results of his next test were on the line…

You couldn’t just ghost him completely.

Which is how you ended up here, in the farthest, emptiest corner of the library, sitting stiffly at a table with a strangely large amount of space between you. Distance you made sure was there.

The silence was… unbearable.

Your head was down, eyes scanning the same sentence for the third time, and you were halfway through pretending to care about an algebraic equation when he finally broke it.

“I missed you.”

You froze.

“What?” you practically yelped — voice far too loud for a library. It echoed back at you in betrayal.

Kaiser laughed, and God, even with a full foot and a half between you, his laugh had a chokehold on you. Like it reached out and grabbed your ribs and squeezed.

“I said,” he repeated, a smirk tugging at his lips as he scratched something off his paper, “I missed you. Where’d you go?”

You blinked. Your mouth opened, but your brain was still buffering.

“Oh, I just—”

But what excuse could you even give?

Sorry, my best friend kind of exploded my entire emotional world and now I’m avoiding you because I think I actually might like you and it scares me more than I thought possible.

Not exactly tutoring-appropriate.

You opened your mouth again, but nothing came out.

That’s when he spoke again.

“My dad used to get quiet before he got really angry.”

Your eyes snapped up.

He wasn’t looking at his notes anymore. He was looking at you. Head tilted slightly, mouth pulled into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t like silence,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”

The request didn’t sound like a demand.

It sounded like a plea.

And you… you couldn’t look away.

“I don’t know how,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself.

He stared for a second longer, expression unreadable — and then the smile turned real. Gentle. Bright enough to make your chest ache.

“You’re cute when you’re shy, you know that?”

Your jaw dropped half a second before you remembered how to close it.

But before you could sputter a protest, he reached across the table, grabbing the workbook from your hands and flipping it back to a problem he’d half-scribbled through.

“So how do you do this one again?”

You blinked.

Twice.

Because that was it. Just like that, he’d let you off the hook. No push. No interrogation. No emotional ambush.

He’d just asked you to talk, heard what you could give, and met you where you were.

The smallest thing. But it hit like a truck.

Because Michael Kaiser was supposed to be cocky. Confident. Self-serving.

But this version of him — the one who missed you, who laughed when you yelled, who told you things about his dad of all people — he was soft. Kind in ways you didn’t expect.

You stared at the worksheet in front of you, eyes glazed over, heartbeat loud in your ears.

He didn’t know it.

But you were dangerously close to falling in love with him.

God help you.

Because at this rate, Michael Kaiser was going to be the death of you.

It was already dark by the time the two of you packed up your things.

Kaiser slung his bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, waiting as you slowly gathered your books — still trying to steady the pulse in your throat that hadn’t quite calmed down since the moment he smiled at you across that table.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said casually, like it wasn’t the most dangerous sentence you’d ever heard in your life.

You blinked. “You… don’t have to.”

“I know,” he replied, already heading toward the exit, glancing back with that trademark smirk. “But I want to.”

Of course he does, you thought as you followed him out into the quiet campus night. Of course he wants to.

The air was crisp, carrying that subtle warmth of spring trying to break through the last grip of winter. The sidewalk gleamed slightly under the streetlamps. You walked slowly — side by side — not touching, but close enough that you could feel the shape of him beside you.

And strangely… it didn’t feel tense.

It felt easy.

He talked about the weird German sitcom his roommate liked to blast every morning before practice. You talked about the TA who always had something passive-aggressive to say about your notes.

He laughed. You rolled your eyes.

He asked you why you always wore two rings on one finger. You asked him if he ever got sick of all the attention.

He hesitated before saying, “Yeah. Sometimes.”

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t flirty.

It was soft. Domestic. Like something you’d done a thousand times before — even though you hadn’t.

You glanced up at him while he was mid-sentence — something about being forced to join a karaoke night he definitely did not sign up for — and you caught it.

The way he looked at you.

Not like he was looking at you. Like he was seeing you.

Like he had been this whole time.

You quickly looked away, heart climbing into your throat. You were close now. Your dorm building just down the path. You should say something. You should end the night.

But your mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

He stopped walking first.

You were at the steps of your building. Just the two of you now. The world unusually quiet.

“Well,” you said, clutching your books a little too tightly. “Thanks for walking me back.”

He nodded slowly. His hands were in his pockets now, but his eyes were still on you. Intense. Steady. Gentle in a way that made your knees weak.

“Of course,” he murmured.

“I guess I’ll—”

You didn’t even finish the sentence.

He leaned in.

Softly. Without warning.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t demanding. Just his lips meeting yours, warm and slow, like he had all the time in the world to figure out exactly how you tasted.

And you…

You didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to.

The kiss lingered, something sweet and aching and impossibly quiet blooming in your chest. You could feel the heat of his palm against the side of your neck — you didn’t even remember him reaching for you — fingers gentle, almost reverent, like he was afraid you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

Because all you could think about was how good it felt.

And how terrifying that was.

When he finally pulled back — just enough to breathe — his forehead rested against yours, your noses still brushing, eyes closed.

“You didn’t run,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You opened your eyes.

“Didn’t want to,” you whispered back.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Good. Because I think I’d chase you.”

That made you smile — involuntarily, too wide and too real. He grinned back, the kind of smile that could level a room.

You didn’t say good night.

You didn’t have to.

You just turned and stepped into the dorm building, one shaky breath at a time, hands trembling, lips still tingling.

And once you were inside your room — door shut, back against the wood — you touched your mouth with your fingertips, like you couldn’t believe it had happened.

Michael Kaiser kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

And somewhere, tucked beneath the adrenaline and confusion and guilt, a quiet little truth stirred in your chest:

You didn’t regret it.

Not one bit.

The moment you saw Isagi, you knew this was going to go horribly.

He was already sitting at the little corner table you always claimed at the café near campus, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him and his hair still damp from a morning shower.

He gave you a tired smile as you slid into the seat across from him.

“You look weird,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I kissed him.”

You didn’t mean to say it.

Really.

But your brain short-circuited the moment you saw him, your guilt bubbling to the surface like it always did when it came to Yoichi. And before he could even blink, you said it — voice too loud, too fast, crashing into the quiet atmosphere of the café like a poorly thrown brick.

Isagi choked.

His mouth practically exploded his coffee back into the cup, some of it splashing out and hitting the table. A few drops even hit your notes. You flinched as he coughed, wiping at his mouth with a napkin and staring at you like you’d just told him you were moving to Mars.

“You what?”

“I mean—he kissed me!” you corrected, hands flying up as if to defend yourself. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

“And you let him?” he sputtered.

You froze.

“Well… yeah.”

There was a moment of silence so thick you could practically feel it squeezing your lungs.

Isagi stared at you. His jaw tensed. His eyebrows twitched upward. And in that one painfully long look, you knew exactly what he was thinking:

I love you, but I genuinely do not understand how you’ve survived this long.

“I didn’t plan it, Yoichi,” you tried again, your voice softer now. “It just… kind of happened.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Right. ‘Kind of happened.’ Like when you ‘kind of happened’ to flood your dorm bathroom freshman year or ‘kind of happened’ to adopt that stray cat and hide it in your closet for two weeks.”

“Okay, first of all, Pumpkin needed a place to stay. And second, this is different.”

“How?” he asked flatly.

You opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

Then whispered, “It felt real.”

That caught him off guard.

He blinked, some of the sarcasm slipping off his face like a mask.

“Real?” he echoed.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t know what it means yet. But when he kissed me, I didn’t feel confused. I didn’t even feel scared. It was like… everything stopped for a second.”

Isagi looked down at the mess on the table. He dragged his thumb across a coffee droplet absently.

“I just want you to be okay,” he said, quieter than before.

“I know.”

“And I want you to be sure. Because Michael Kaiser? He’s not like me.”

“I know that too.”

He met your eyes.

“And you’re still gonna fall for him?”

You hesitated.

Then: “I think I already have.”

He looked at you like he wanted to shake some sense into you and pull you into a hug at the same time. A sigh escaped him — long and tired and full of the kind of affection that doesn’t just vanish because of a boy.

“God,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “You’re going to break your own heart.”

You smiled weakly. “Maybe. But I think I’d rather try than spend the rest of my life wondering.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

Then, finally, after a beat too long: “You’re still paying for my coffee.”

You snorted. “I just emotionally traumatized you, and you’re charging me for caffeine?”

“I should charge you for emotional labor.”

You threw a napkin at him. He laughed — reluctantly, but he did — and it eased the ache in your chest a little.

He was still upset. Still hurt. Still not okay with it.

But he wasn’t gone.

And maybe that was enough for now.

It started with a hand on your lower back.

Just light enough to be polite, just firm enough to make a statement.

The university was holding some stupid post-match celebration — another win for the soccer team, another excuse for half the campus to drink and pretend they knew anything about offside rules.

You hadn’t even planned on coming. But Isagi had sent a dozen texts begging you to show up and his friend Nagi mumbled something about “free food,” and before you knew it, you were standing in a crowded lounge in jeans and a hoodie, nursing a soda, when Michael Kaiser found you.

He didn’t say hi.

Just that hand on your back, followed by a whisper of breath near your ear.

“You look good.”

You froze. “Kaiser—”

“Michael,” he corrected, low and smooth. “If I’m gonna be yours, you better start using my name.”

You turned, ready to hit him with some witty rebuttal — but then you saw the way people were watching.

Not at you. At him.

And more specifically, at him with you.

It wasn’t just that he was standing close. It was the way he tilted his body toward you, the quiet confidence in his touch, the little smirk like he knew exactly what he was doing. You felt heat crawl up your neck.

“Kaiser, what are you doing?” you hissed.

He just blinked, that lazy grin still on his face. “Introducing you.”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but he was talking to one of his teammates. A midfielder, maybe? You barely remembered his name. But Kaiser nodded toward you like it was obvious.

“This is my girl.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Your girl?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Loud. Too loud. The guy he was talking to blinked and made a weird exit, clearly sensing the storm approaching.

Kaiser turned back to you with that same maddening smile. “Well, yeah. I—”

“Since when?”

He paused.

“…Since I kissed you?”

You gawked at him. “You oaf, you kinda have to ask.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Ask what?”

You folded your arms. “Ask me to be your girlfriend, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“…Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

You stared.

“That’s it? That’s your big follow-up to claiming me like some high school jock in a romcom?”

“Well,” he said, voice slow and amused, “you are standing at my game-day party, drinking soda like a nervous little housewife while wearing my hoodie.”

You looked down.

It was his hoodie. You hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed it from your dorm before heading out. The sleeves were too long, and it still smelled like his cologne.

Your face flushed. “That doesn’t count—”

He leaned in.

Closer.

That smirk softened into something less smug. Something more real.

“I’ll ask you properly if you want. Flowers, kneeling, the whole nine yards. But either way,” he murmured, voice dipping just for you, “you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then you whispered, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend,” you muttered, half hiding your face in your sleeve.

Kaiser grinned, wide and brilliant.

He tugged you forward just a little by the hoodie strings and kissed your forehead like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Good,” he said. “Now the whole world knows.”

You were still standing in the bathroom, feet cold against the tile, hands gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you on this planet.

You and Kaiser had been together for eight months now, even sharing an apartment for your senior years of university.

And because timing is the cruelest and most theatrical of all forces—you heard the door crash open.

“I have news!” came the all-too-familiar, all-too-loud voice of Michael Kaiser echoing through your shared apartment like a firework set off indoors.

You stepped out of the bathroom slowly, like you were walking into a dream, or maybe a trap.

Kaiser was already kicking off his sneakers, practically vibrating with excitement, one hand still holding his phone.

His grin was blinding—boyish, wild, the kind of smile that once made you think he could never be serious about anything.

He looked up and saw you, and the joy in his face grew tenfold.

“I’m going to Bastard München!”

Oh.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

Oh.

wrote this from 3AM to 5AM be nice with how bad it is.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

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soleauclub · 29 days ago

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The Hot Girl’s Guide to Starting Your Cycle-Syncing Era

by Soleau Club

Let’s get one thing straight—your period isn’t a burden, it’s a built-in wellness blueprint. And once you start living with your cycle instead of fighting it? You unlock a whole new level of hot girl harmony. Think: clearer skin, better workouts, fewer cravings, and a body that feels in sync instead of constantly out of whack.

Welcome to your Cycle Syncing Era. It’s giving intuitive. It’s giving balanced. It’s giving biohacked bombshell energy.

Here’s how to start syncing without making it a whole complicated science project:

Step One: Know the Four Phases (Like You Know Your Ex’s Red Flags)

Menstrual (Days 1–5): You’re bleeding, your hormones are at their lowest, and your body wants rest.

Follicular (Days 6–13): Estrogen’s rising, energy’s back, creativity is peaking—hello, glow-up.

Ovulatory (Days 14–17): You’re fertile, magnetic, and thriving. Peak social and sexy energy.

Luteal (Days 18–28): Progesterone kicks in. It’s giving cozy, inward vibes. Think nesting, not networking.

Knowing where you are = knowing how to treat your body like the goddess she is.

Step Two: Eat for Your Cycle (No Sad Salads Here)

Each phase craves different support. You don’t have to be perfect, just intentional.

Menstrual: Iron-rich comfort foods—think leafy greens, stews, dark chocolate, bone broth.

Follicular: Light + fresh meals—grain bowls, smoothies, salmon, sprouts.

Ovulatory: High fiber, high antioxidants—lots of fruit, raw veg, and lean protein.

Luteal: Complex carbs + magnesium-rich foods. Think sweet potatoes, lentils, dark chocolate.

Your cravings aren’t random. They’re signals. Learn the language.

Step Three: Sync Your Workouts

Working out smarter > harder.

Menstrual: Stretching, walking, yin yoga. Nap girl movement.

Follicular: Try something new—Pilates, strength training, hikes. Energy’s high.

Ovulatory: Go off—this is your time to lift heavy, dance, do a sweaty HIIT class.

Luteal: Slow it down with resistance training, sculpting workouts, and barre.

If you’re tired, you’re not lazy. You’re just human. Work with your waves.

Step Four: Glam Up Your Routine Accordingly

Menstrual = heat packs, oils, naps, your softest robe

Follicular = beauty appointments, travel, creative projects

Ovulatory = date nights, content shoots, bold lipstick

Luteal = skin masks, journaling, clearing your space

Life starts feeling so much easier when you stop fighting your body and start flowing with her.

Cycle syncing is the ultimate hot girl hack because it puts you back in the driver’s seat. You don’t need to push, punish, or perform 24/7. You just need to align.

Follow @soleauclub for more biohacked beauty, hormone balance tips, and high-vibe living without the hustle.

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trendoptimizer · 7 months ago

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thesarcasticreader · 2 months ago

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SOME EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE! (CURRENT AND FUTURE)

So I am back? I think. Last year was overwhelming, that's all I will say. I will be trying to post regular readings here because IDK why, but Tumblr feels more authentic than IG? Anyway, take a deep breath and choose your pile. If you feel drawn to multiple piles, you can check them out too. This reading is timeless, and as always, do not stress about your choice too much: Let it flow!

❤️❤️ If the reading resonated with you, do like, reblog and comment, if not, you can let me know that in a constructive manner. But if you are an asshole, I promise you, I can be the bigger asshole ❤️❤️

THESE PICTURES DO NOT BELONG TO ME. THEY WERE TAKEN FROM PINTEREST.

PILE 1: THE TALKER

They talk. They talk a lot. In fact, the only time you ever have to be worried about them is when they are not talking.

Very communicative and in turn, they will expect their partner, meaning you, to be communicative with them.

This person is going to be very charismatic, which leads them to getting a lot of messages. I would not be surprised if they have a lot of Libra or Taurus energy to them.

This person does have that ONE nasty habit they have not managed to get rid of their entire life. It could be anything: Procrastination, chronic lateness et. el. A little more detail would be how they manage money. This person either over saves or overspends. There is no in-between. They do not seem to have a crippling debt or anything but they are someone with good money but no proper budgeting.

They will be going through the worst fight of their life with someone. It can either be friends or workplace drama. But whatever it is, it is about extreme competition. They will be trapped in this situation of extreme toxicity and the thing is, they do not realise that this situation is toxic. They are so driven to win that they will forget the world around them until their perspective starts to shift.

Matter of fact, this fight is what will teach them to be fiscally smarter. This fight will make them more grounded. More interesting is, they will be dealing with the after effects of cutting this situation out of their life when they meet you.

But I gotta tell you, this person is a real lover. I mean, the floral bouquets, the dates, the cards, the acts- everything is meticulously planned by them. They are a unicorn but you know it! Cause they don't realise that. For someone absolutely smart and smooth talking, this person is amazing at missing cues!

❤️ 💖 💝 💘❤️ 💖 💝 💘❤️ 💖 💝 💘❤️ 💖 💝 💘❤️ 💖 💝 💘

PILE 2: THE HARDWORKER

This person has no work boundaries. Like a serious workaholic. Or a recovering one anyway. They may have recently (I mean currently) discovered that all this working has caused them some health issues.

This person is on survival mode, right now. There is not much information on what is going on with them but one thing I can say is that it does not feel like breakup energy. They have had a tougher situation to deal with and it has put them in a place where they feel like they have to protect themselves because no one else will.

However, I am getting the energy of this person being a business owner or a high-level corporate hotshot. They are authoritative, demanding, borderline obsessive about keeping things a certain way and they are all about taking the attention of the room and putting it on themselves. They may not enjoy the attention but they know how to command it and leverage it.

This person loves travelling. One of their main motivations for earning big is to experince a lot of things and travel to a lot of places. They are very energetic on vacation. You will be surprised by this side of them when you guys are off together and you see them goofing off for the first time... because who is this person?

Their energy is different when they are on a break. They need your help to learn when to take a break. But this person is a true romantic at heart. They are more action oriented than big on words. They aren't the best gift givers but they are the best learners. You tell them what you want and they will deliver the world. They are the type whom you ask to bring a couple of flowers and they bring the freaking garden. (NOT THAT YOU HAVE TO ASK THEM TO BRING FLOWERS! THEY HAVE THAT MUCH SENSE)

This is someone who believes in the happily ever after for themselves. They will work really hard for career but harder for their relationship.

🍓🌸🌼💐🍓🌸🌼💐🍓🌸🌼💐🍓🌸🌼💐🍓🌸🌼💐🍓🌸🌼

PILE 3: THE SNEAKY ONE

Okay, so this person is complicated, to begin with. They can be a real asshole when it counts.

Okay, so some parts of the reading would be off putting. This person is a playboy/ girl. Or was after they met you. And, I would love to tell you that they stopped after they met you and you became the only one, but that's not really the case.

They used to have a lot of relationships and on the side. This person was a messy bitch who created drama and left off. But one day, it all blew up in their face. They had to deal with the consequences of what they did.

Which in turn gave them a pretty drastic personality lobotomy. Because they are not the person they used to be. They don't like talking about their past. This is a person who used to be super care free but isn't anymore. They are serious.

OMG= I got it. The tortured academic vibe. They tend to stress about being responsible and sometimes get scared if they try to let loose.

When you meet them, they will appear to be introverted and anti-social. This person is not very open. This relationship will progress slow and friends to lovers vibe is prominent.

They will be honest about their past though. They will tell you all of it because they don't want you finding stuff from third parties. Nor do they want a lot of fights. They try to avoid confrontations.

However, this part is especially interesting is that impact they will have on your life. One drastic change after the other. No joke. Death card followed by the Tower in this context of the reading.

This person will force you to acknowledge a lot of truths about yourself. The one standing out glaringly is if you are seeing slow, stable relationship as boring then, you have a lot to learn about relationships. Because everything turns boring, not just relationships. You just have to work to make it interesting!

The both of you will take a lot of time to think about things and progress slowly. You can almost imagine a couple sitting on the porch together, watching the sun go down with a glass of wine in hand. Both of them are in their own thoughts but as the lights go out, they turn their attention to the other. Both of you like the company and the peace it brings.

⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨🌟💫⭐✨

PILE 4: THE NEW ERA, NEW ME ONE

This person is going through a new era, new me scene when they meet you. They are open to date. They have finally moved on and they feel like they are ready to take on the world with their fresh perspective!

Just look at them being all cute and brimming with potential. It is like seeing a golden retriever jump around when they find out they can go outside, but when you open the balcony door, they will stand there like they cannot go outside. They need someone to help them with that. (I love goldens and they are smart but god they act dumb so many times!)

This person isn't solitary but they are a deep thinker. This is someone whom you can put in a very chaotic place and they will be all peaceful, not at all ruffled and thinking. Or observing. Whichever strikes their fancy. They can be a bit traditional. (Strong arranged marriage vibe here tbh or at least someone in the family sets up the date for you)

This person is up and coming. These people can be in the popular roles as well. Like influencers, actors, theatre, music, leaders, speakers- people who face cameras a lot.

Which is why they love their privacy too much. They may love the chaos, but they do not share personal info with just anyone. You have to be considered to be an integral part of their inner circle to access their energy.

This person will be on the roll, but they will need a push. They are ready but sometimes they need to be encouraged.

Also, this person loves to gossip. Masculine or feminine, they love to gossip with you. It is kind of their love language. They are a paradox. You are the one to figure them out though. A bit cheesy but they are a sucker for that, so it all works out?

This person is a social butterfly. Anything good happens for either of you, and they will be up to celebrate. They will be off to show the world about the milestone. But they will not ever reveal while you are working on the milestone. They are practical and proud.

🌹 🌻 🌷 🥀🌹 🌻 🌷 🥀🌹 🌻 🌷 🥀🌹 🌻 🌷 🥀🌹 🌻 🌷 🥀🌹 🌻

If you liked the reading, do like this post, reblog and comment on it. I would love to hear from you!

In the meanwhile do not forget to vote on the poll for the next reading! The poll closes in a week, so the reading will be delivered then.

I am not doing paid readings for intl. clients right now. But I can take on anyone who can pay through GPay. My PayPal situation is stuck and I think it will stay that way forever - their customer support has been no help either so that's where I am stuck.

BUT

I will do some free readings. I will post about this soon. So, don't be texting me about it all the time. I will have a set time for this one.

Bye!

🪐🌑☄️⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐🌑☄️⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐🌑☄️⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐🌑☄️⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐🌑☄️⋆⭒

#tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pac reading #love reading #future spouse #18+tarot reading #18+ tarot #love relationship #tarot #pacfuturespouse #pac #pick a picture #tarot witch #tarot community #tarot cards #tarotblr

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vivmaek · 2 years ago

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MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning.

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken.

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them.

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great.

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They’re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution.

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sinnaminsuga · 1 year ago

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red lights adjacent - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan

wc: 2,804

cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.

a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.

it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.

you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.

you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.

“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.

“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.

you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.

hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.

chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.

“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.

suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.

“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.

“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.

“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.

“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.

“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.

“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.

“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.

“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.

“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.

chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.

“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.

“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.

“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.

“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.

“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.

after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.

being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”

THE END

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