#air stream trailers

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Opportunity to own a piece of Rock Royalty for only $452K. "Kate's Lazy Desert" was crafted by B-52's iconic singer-songwriter Kate Pierson and her artist wife Monica Nation. It can be a trailer park, camp ground, or motel. Completely decorated vintage Airstreams plus a homestead cabin for the owner, caretaker, or guests. Check out this gem in Landers, CA.

"Roam if you want to," all trailers feature colorful retro design.

The all have a picnic table, barbecue grill, and a frame for an awning.

I like this one.

This one's set up a little differently. And, it has Tinkerbell on the wall.

This one's cute. Wonder why the wallpaper in the kitchen is so bubbled.

They all have pretty big baths, for a trailer.

This one has a nice bath, too.

Looks like a small, above-ground pool.

The private cabin for the caretaker, etc. The Love Shack!

It's a 10 acre lot, and the adjoining 5 acre lot has a cement slab w/all utilities connected so you could build a house or something.

The trailer park setup.

And, it's close to local attractions like Joshua Tree, Pappy And Harriet's, The Integratron, Giant Rock Boulder, and the critically-acclaimed restaurant La Copine.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/58380-Botkin-Rd-Landers-CA-92285/299170786_zpid/?

[crescentfool]

p3 reload box art + the art book cover!

[nanihirunkits]

wait a second thamepo won't be airing on youtube???? where are we supposed to watch it? 😭

it should be on youtube for every country except for thailand and maybe a hand full of other asian countries, where it’s going to air on gmm25 and netflix

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Sleepwalking

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader, Jason Teague x Reader

AN: @jackles010378 This one's for you, hun! 😘

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Mainly fluff, implied sex, nakedness

HC: How Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Jason would react to you sleepwalking.

Dean Winchester

At first, Dean can't understand why you hesitate to sleep with him after, well, sleeping with him.

Did he read you wrong? Is just this something casual for you? The thought makes him swallow, jaw clenching, but if that's how you want it...he can try to be okay with that.

Seeing the hurt he's trying to bury behind his eyes, you settle down beside him in bed and stroke his cheek. You assure him that you're staying. Even though in the back of your mind, you're hoping and praying.

Please, God. Not tonight...

It happens around 3:00 in the morning.

Dean feels you stir on your side of his bed. He's a light sleeper at the best of times, so he turns to see you tossing the covers off your half-naked body and getting out of bed.

"Where're you going?" he says, playfully trying to grab your hand. But you slip right out of his hold without answering him, padding to the door and leaving the room.

Still half-asleep, but now thoroughly bewildered, Dean's brows furrow, and he gets up to follow you. You would never walk out of a room wearing just his shirt and nothing else, your bare feet slapping the floor with every step. He hopes Sam isn't up and about at this hour.

It takes him a while, but Dean finds you in the kitchen. There you seem to be trying to put together a bowl of Cheerios. The box is already on the counter. You're opening cupboards and leaving them open, your hands searching for a bowl.

"What'cha doin' sweetheart? Little midnight snack action? I can get behind that," Dean says.

You don't even seem to hear him. Dean watches you grab a mug instead of a bowl...and the orange juice instead of milk.

It all goes downhill from there.

"I did what?" you exclaim the next morning. "See! This is why I didn't wanna tell you."

You cover your face in your hands in mortification while Dean rubs your back, chuckling so hard he can't even breathe. You smack him in the stomach, but it doesn't stop his wheezing. He kisses you on the cheek to placate you.

"It's okay, baby. I didn't know coffee grounds and O.J. went so well together."

Beau Arlen

The first night you stay over at his air stream trailer, you warn him ahead of time while you sit beside him on the narrow bed.

"Just so you know, I um..." Getting out the words are difficult. You give him a wan smile in embarrassment, but he's listening intently, waiting for you to finish.

You sigh and decide to bite the bullet. "I tend to sleepwalk."

Just as you predicted, Beau's brows shoot up in surprise.

"Really?" he says, a smile starting to curve his lips.

Your lips twitch at a smile as well. "Yes, so I don't wanna hear any wisecracks. It runs in my family, unfortunately."

"Wow, a whole family of sleepwalkers, huh?" he muses, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. "Gotta say, I'd like to see that--"

You cut off his chuckling with a shove of his shoulder.

But that night, Beau is startled awake when you trip over his shoes left on the floor, beside a small pile of his clothes and yours that you two hadn't bothered to pick up.

You aren't hurt too badly -- just a bruised forehead and very confused the next morning.

But from then on, Beau takes your condition more seriously.

Every night, he makes sure his place is clean and organized so you don't trip on anything.

He puts a child lock on the door in case you try to open it while sleepwalking, and he keeps the sliding door to the bathroom open in case you need to get in there.

Most importantly, he locks his guns away in a safe inside his nightstand.

His objective is making sure you're safe and comfortable whenever you're with him.

Though he can't help teasing you a little bit (a lot) when you rearrange his entire sock and underwear drawer in your sleep, perfectly folded and color coded.

"Well, thanks very much, darlin'," he grins.

You shake your head, covering your warm, blushing face.

"Shut up."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

"What the fuck?" Ben wipes his bleary eyes, but he still can't believe what he's seeing.

He watches in bewilderment when he finds you in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Completely naked. Frying up some bacon to go with your toast, apparently.

Not that naked cooking doesn't appeal to him. In fact, the sight of you from behind -- your hair loose over your shoulders, the curve of your waist and the gentle swell of your hips, bare ass and legs, and the hint of side boob while your hands move deftly with the pan and silver utensil...

It's arousing, even erotic, making his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

And it actually fits pretty well with one of his fantasies that he's been wanting to try out with you.

But this is also more than a little fucking strange. You're usually dead to the world until at least 9:00 a.m.

"Sweetheart, what're you doing?" he asks. He approaches you from behind and rests a hand on your lower back as he peers over your shoulder, but you don't answer him.

When a large spark of grease pops in the pan, you barely even flinch when it hits your arm and burns you.

Instinctively, he knows something's wrong. He grabs the pan out of your hand and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you away from the crackling grease. He turns off the stove and steps back with you in his arms.

"Hey, are you hearing me? What the fuck's going on here?" he asks.

Your eyes seem glazed over, until he (gently) slaps at your cheek.

"Hey."

Finally, you blink faster a few times, take a deeper breath, and glance up at him. "Hey..."

Your brows furrowing, you look around the room in confusion. Your eyes widen when you look down at your naked body. You gasp and cling to his arms. "What the hell?!"

"Were you fucking sleepwalking?" Ben asks, his lips twitching in amusement and incredulity all at once.

"Oh my God, you tell me!" you exclaim. This has never happened to you in your life! What the hell is going on?

He leads you back to the bedroom, and after putting your pajamas back on, you inspect the pill bottle on your nightstand. Ben gave it to you to help knock out the spell of insomnia you've been having.

After reading the list of side effects, you toss the bottle at your man's chest, even knowing he'll barely feel it.

"This is the last time I let you give me Ambien!"

Bonus! Jason Teague

What the hell did you take? Jason wonders, as he tries to keep you from unclipping your seatbelt.

The two of you are on a plane halfway to France on vacation.

You're a nervous flyer, but you just woke up from a dead sleep after taking that little pill an hour ago.

And you're apparently "feeling happy," in your words, your head rolling onto his shoulder with a giggle.

"Jase," you stage whisper (loudly). You raise a finger and swirl it around the air. "My face is hot. I'm hot. I'm hot for...you."

You tweak the tip of his nose.

He laughs a bit nervously, despite his genuine amusement. A mother looks their way with a raised brow. She puts a pair of headphones on her little boy and gives him an iPad to focus on. Jason shoots her an awkward smile and wave. Then he focuses back on you.

"Okay. Sweetheart, I like the enthusiasm, but I think you just need to sleep off the rest of whatever this is," he says. He grabs a blanket to cover you with.

"Hmm, okay."

Eventually you settle down and snuggle into him. He smiles in relief, soothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He soon falls asleep himself.

When he wakes, you're no longer sitting beside him. His eyes popping open wide, he sits up and leans out of the aisle. He doesn't see you at all in the first class cabin.

Jason shoots up out of his seat and hurries down the other way, through the curtain where business and economy sit.

Sure enough, a flight attendant is following you up and down the aisle trying to get your attention, but you don't even seem to be hearing him.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" the attendant tries. He seems to be getting frustrated. "There's turbulence, miss. It's not safe for you to be--"

Jason hurries to you and grabs your arm just as the plane begins to tremble and shake. He knows there's something wrong if you're not freaking out right now. You should be clinging to him like a koala, not wearing a blank expression on your face as you glance up at him.

"Aw shit, you're sleepwalking," he realizes breathlessly. What the hell did you take?

He knows you told him, but now he feels guilty for not really listening as he and the flight attendant help you back to your seat.

Once you're clipped back into a seatbelt along with him, Jason sighs in relief now that he knows you're safe and sleeping more peacefully. Looks like you two are going to have an adventure before you even get to Paris.

He fishes out the little bottle from your bag and reads the label.

Xanax. Jesus Christ. One thing's for sure, Jason is throwing it out when you guys land.

You'll thank him when you wake up.

AN: 😂 I had more fun than I thought with this one! Let me know what you think, and if there are other characters you'd like to see the next time I do one of these headcanons. 😘💜

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[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Lazy Mornings

Eddie Munson x gn!reader Summary: Just a lazy morning spent with Eddie

Eddie was never really one to spend his days doing nothing. It made him feel antsy, feeling his body thrum with unused energy when he would sit around in his trailer all day, waiting around for something to come find him. He found it hard to sit still, hard to wind down and just be, when his overactive brain was running wild with ideas of things to do and places to be.

But with you came a sense of calm that he was missing. A simple touch from your hand to his shoulder and he feels himself melt against it. You brought peace to his chaos that he badly needed.

The soft hum of his battered cassette player, Pantera playing at half volume, filled the background with a gentle noise to break the otherwise silent trailer. Sunlight streamed through the thin curtains as the sun popped up over the horizon, painting golden streaks across the messy bed, across his bare arms, and most importantly—across you.

You were sprawled against him, head resting on his chest, your fingers moving lazily, tracing patterns against the warm skin of his stomach where you'd lifted his shirt up gently. The delicate, soft feeling of your hand on his body ignited sparks behind his skin, the feeling warm and fuzzy as he gazed down at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Your lashes fluttered slightly as you blinked slowly and lazily as you stared off into space, eyes catching the light in a way that made his chest ache. Your soft lips, were parted just enough to let out those quiet, sleepy sighs that he could feel against his skin, warm air brushing against him. Your hair, hanging messily across your back and face as you leant against him, tickling his skin, soft against his hand as he moved to run his fingers through there.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

Eddie grinned, his fingers moving to trail up and down your back, lazy and slow, “yeah? And what if I am?”

You huffed a little, shifting to peek up at him through lidded eyes as you raise your eyebrows at him, “then I’d say you’re a weirdo.”

He smirked, fingers moving to your chin, tilting it up slightly so he could get a better look at you, “and I’d say you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen if we wanna be stating the obvious.”

Your face warmed instantly, and Eddie didn’t even try to hide his little chuckle. He loved catching you off guard, loved the way your nose scrunched when you got flustered. He’d spend forever making you look at him like that if he could.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, hiding your face against his chest again.

“And yet,” he teased, running his fingers down your back to wrap around your waist gently, “you stick around. You love it, don't even lie."

You hummed in response, pressing a soft kiss just above his heart, and Eddie melted against you, convinced he’d never move again. Screw the band practice later he’d promised to show up for. Screw the campaign notes that were half-finished on his desk. This—this was where he wanted to be.

You. His bed. Nothing else.

After a long pause, you sighed happily, “we should just stay here all day.”

Eddie chuckled, pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you, “I can only promise that if you relinquish control of the blanket.”

You only laughed softly, your hands trailing lazily up his chest. “Not gonna happen. I’ll keep you warm.”

He smiled, feeling his heart swell in a way that made him feel completely exposed, completely at ease. He didn’t have to be anything special when he was with you.

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, eyes soft and so full of warmth that Eddie felt his throat tighten. You were looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You're perfect," he whispered before he could stop himself. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin. "Do you know that?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you just smiled, and Eddie could feel his chest fill with something he couldn’t quite put a name to.

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then his lips—soft, sweet, just the way he liked it.

[wileycap]

So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.

So.

It's okay. B, maybe a C+.

That's it.

Now for the spoilers:

The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.

The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.

The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.

Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.

The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.

The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.

Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.

In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.

And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?

Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.

In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"

They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.

It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.

To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.

[cutepresea]

The Princession Orchestra stream was earlier and there was quite a bit of info given (and with it, the official site got an overhaul)

First off, it will start airing in April on Sunday mornings

A new trailer was shown, which reveals the antagonist group and plays the opening theme

Nabiyu's voice actor was revealed to be Hiro Shimono

The enemy group, Band Snatch (name based on "bandersnatch") was shown

(I am making up spellings for now, if they show official ones later, I will correct them)

Callisto (CV: Chiaki Kobayashi)

Guita (CV: Shouya Chiba)

Bas (CV: Junya Enoki)

Drun (CV: Shunsuke Takeuchi)

Guita, Bas, and Drun's names are taken from guitar, bass, and drum. I guess Callisto's name could be taken from the guitar? Edit: Okay yeah, his name is more likely taken from "vocalist" (ボーカリスト)

The opening theme is titled "Zettai Utahime Sengen!" and is performed by Orcheria (a group made up of the three Princesses). The lyrics and composition are by Noriyasu Agematsu and it is arranged by Daisuke Kikuta. It says distribution starts January 17 at midnight

And finally toys:

Jewel Bells for the three Princesses, Princess costumes, Millefi Charm Shot, Nabiyu pouch, and plushes of the characters

[myassisasolarsystem]

headcanons for caseoh

my big leprechaun 😍

- DEFFFFF lets you lay your whole body on him when cuddling bro like dont matter how much u weigh cuz bfr he buff

- wouldnt care if you were chubby or wtv cuz like..i dont think he can be talkin 😬😬 and also i think he would find it cute and stuff (idk bro im a bad writer)

- LIVESS FOR WHEN YOU HAVE A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR BRO LIKE ITS PROB A NECESSITY ATP

- if you walk in on him streaming like he���ll ask if you want to stay and stuff and when you do you burst out laughing at the jokes that the ppl send

- you deff put your cold feet in his belly rolls to heat them up

-earthquake when he walks around the trailer that shit be shaking 😭

-takes absolutely DIABOLICAL shits bro. IT STINKS like you have to let the bathroom air out at least 15-20 mins before going in.

-you n jynxzi are deff friends

- one time you and caseoh were playing fnaf and he got jumpscared so bad he farted..

- its definitely thick

-not very kinky bro yall weird its js normal sex he is NOT a freak a leak🙅‍♀️

-takes you to waffle house 7 days of the week and would probably propose there ngl

[yelenasbraid]

idk if you know anything about western riding, but i’d love to see a joey b x cowgirl reader. like competing in rodeos doing barrel racer or cattle roping?

gonna make this a blurb because why not 🤷‍♀️

warnings — none! just fluff :)

THE AIR IS WARM, dust kicked up by cattle and horse alike glow in the sunset streams. The buzz of the crowds and the occasional shout of the announcer break the silence, but it doesn’t break the meditation that she’s in.

She takes a soft, small brush and dusts off her horse’s face. His breaths fan her arms as his ears flick around, watching and listening. He’s a good horse, takes care of her and holds his ground. He’s not afraid of much and he keeps his girl safe.

“Can I give him a mint?” A voice interrupts the silent conversation she’s having with her horse. Her eyes flick from her horse’s calm, brown eyes to her boyfriend’s blue eyes.

“Of course you can,” she hummed, patting the cheek of her horse. Her stomach is in knots; her race is in 15 minutes. She needed to be at the gate in 10 minutes. Barrel racing was her passion, and it was one of the only times when she and her horse were one. They moved as one body, one heart, one pair of lungs.

Joe knew her passion. He loved watching her. The way her eyes crinkled as she focused, her pupils dialed as her and her horse focused on the three, looming barrels in the arena, it entranced him. Her hands were so soft yet firm, her legs strong and a guiding force for the beast beneath her. It was like watching a movie.

Joe unwrapped the peppermint and he stuck it in his hand. He stuck his hand under her horse’s nose, the soft velvet of his nose grabbing the peppermint. Joe watched as her horse swished the mint around his mouth, then stuck out his tongue.

“He likes to suck on them,” she chuckled, adjusting her stirrups, looking over to see her boyfriend engage with her gelding. Her two boys, her two lifelines.

“You what else likes to get sucked on?” Joe raised his eyebrows, doing slow air humps with his hips. She took a brush, tossing it at him.

“Pervert,” she smirked, watching as Joe’s cheeks lit up. They were alone, all except for the horse and the trailer. She checked the time on her Apple watch, and she exhaled. Her stomach flipped, even if she knew what she was doing. Even if she had confidence.

She grabbed her horse’s bridle, slinging it over her shoulder. She unclipped the halter, handing it to Joe.

“You’re gonna kill it, ya know,” Joe hummed as he hung the halter up, “you always do,”

“I know,” she sighed, softly guiding the bit into her horse’s mouth. She slid the head stall over his ears, adjusting his forelock.

“Then why are you nervous?”

“Do you get nervous before football games?” she asked him, adjusting her cinch.

“No,”

“Okay hotshot, I do get nervous even if I know I’m gonna do well,” she quipped, shooting him a look. He came up behind her, knowing she needed a leg up. He cupped her knee, gently tossing her into the saddle as she jumped.

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” Joe smirked, settling a hand on her thigh as she adjusted her feet, “you make the crowds go wild,”

“That’s because I’m dating you,” she quipped, guiding her horse away from the trailer. Joe walked with her, keeping in step with her horse with ease.

“No, I hear them scream your name, not mine,” Joe smiled up at her. He was proud of her, and he loved watching her go. This was her element, her field. He loved watching her command it, make it her own. It filled him with a sense of pride; he was her boyfriend.

He led her to the opening to the alley, to which her horse’s body tensed. He watched as she walked down the alley, blowing him a kiss. He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. She was his girl, his horse girl, and he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

[sacredsorceress]

scrutiny // bucky barnes

PAIRING: bucky barnes x avenger!reader SUMMARY: (CA:BNW spoilers) your husband decides that he wants to run for congress, but he won't do it without you. WORD COUNT: 2k A/N: tbh I needed to rationalize bucky running for congress after ca:bnw and the thunderbolts trailer WARNINGS: angst, PTSD, anxiety, captain america: brave new world spoilers, nightmares, pregnancy mention

masterlist | bucky barnes masterlist | inbox

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

The day was young. Dawn had barely begun. When you took a sip from the glass of water on your nightstand earlier, the clock had blinked 5:14 back at you. You wondered now how much time had passed.

A stream of gray light filtered in between the window's shades allowing you to see your husband's face. Scruff littered his cheeks, left unshaven from three days before and strands of hair hung loosely behind his ears in desperate need of a wash.

I'll scrub it clean later, you thought.

Your fingers could feel the phantom touch of the shampoo against his scalp as your fingertips massaged it into his skin. You'd even hold the showerhead for him, letting the warm water wash away shampoo along with the worries from earlier in the day.

But that was later.

Now, a tension thick enough to cut with enough a knife consumed the air.

"I think so." Bucky said.

Bucky's voice was coarse from the lack of use in the night. He cleared his throat as you heard the distinctive beep! beep! of your neighbor unlocking his car, signalling a start to the day.

"You think?" You couldn't help the bitter edge to your voice. As you tossed and turned the night before, playing different ways to approach the situation, you had tried- sincerely you did- to find a kind and gentle way to voice your opinions. But it seems that had faded away along with your consciousness as you went to sleep. "Buck, this isn't something you think you want to do. This could... I mean it could-"

You couldn't tell if his tone was due to exhaustion or frustration.

"Go ahead," Bucky said. "Say it."

"This could ruin our lives." You spat. "We're finally on track to having normal lives and now you want to run for Congress?"

"I think you know it's too late for us to have normal lives, Y/n."

It was the simplicity with which he said it. As if it was an obvious fact that only you were not aware of. In a way, you suppose you were.

Outside the window you heard your neighbor kick at his car door as the engine fussed. Battery's dead. You could hear him shout at his kids through the hurricane door, telling them that they'd have to take the bus to school.

You wanted nothing more than for Bucky and you to live normal lives. But the fact of the matter was that every day you were proved about the impossibility of it.

A week ago Bucky had come home to an empty house.

It's not as though he had never come home to an empty house before, because he had. Really, Bucky wasn't sure what it was. But before the logical part of his brain could remind him that you could be anywhere, doing anything, his pulse had began to quicken. Bucky could feel his heart thumping against its cage as blood rushed to his head, flooding his ears.

His lungs burned as he inhaled faster than he could exhale. His flesh hand shook.

Stumbling through the house he swung open a door to every room and closet, even shoving hangers aside in hopes of finding your waiting face between articles of clothing. With what little breath he had, Bucky called a wispy shout of your name.

He tossed sheets from their beds, ingredients from their cupboards all in search of you.

When you had finally come home fifteen minutes late, keys jingling in the lock, you found Bucky, head in his hands, sitting on the floor dialing Sam.

Later he would tell you that he didn't know what had gotten into him.

But you knew. This time it was nothing more than a missed bus, but before, it had been the real deal.

You had disappeared in the hands of some mastermind before he could even fight for you. And he wasn't alone.

Two nights ago Bucky woke to the sounds of you screaming.

His heart pounded in his chest, terrified that something had happened to you until he felt your wriggling form at his side. Your legs had tangled themselves in the sheets and a sheen of sweat coated your forehead as you heaved. The colourful glow of your magic emanated from your palms.

Not again.

In a moment he was up, grabbing your arms.

"Doll?" Bucky asked to no avail. "Doll, It's a dream-"

Before he could register what was happening, your head had whipped towards him, light glowing from your eyes.

"Stop it!"

And with that, a kinetic blast shot from your palms, building a shield between the two of you.

It took a moment, and several hits against the barrier with Bucky's vibranium fist, for recognition to blink its way back into your eyes.

When it did, your eyes burned with tears. Bucky welcomed you into his lap with open arms and held you as if the world depended on it. He supposed it did.

"I didn't know."

So maybe your husband was right.

Maybe you were past normal. But that didn't mean it was a good idea.

"We could move," you suggested. "Get out of the city... out of the country even. We could put this behind us like a bad dream. We could be safe there-"

You shifted in the sheets to face him, flinging your hands in reference to some distant future. Bucky could feel the breeze from your gestures brush against his skin and found himself wishing he had wings.

"It's never going to stop." Buck sighed, not out of frustration over you, but rather the fact he knew he was right as much as he wanted you to be. "They'll find us. They always do."

"So... what?" You asked. "So you put yourself out there and let them pick apart your life? Your every move? Because it'll start the second you announce you're running for election. They don't understand what our lives are like, Buck. They'll blame you for everything the Winter Soldier did. They'll scrutinize every little thing you do-"

Although your words had venom to them, it wasn't meant to sting Bucky into anything more than self awareness.

In truth, you weren't upset that he wanted to do something like this. Surprised? Yes. But upset? Angry at Bucky? Never.

What you were frustrated with was that you couldn't understand.

The same system that had turned itself against Bucky Barnes was now gaining him as a willing volunteer.

You'd seen firsthand how the admiration of someone when looking at you would quickly shift to fear at the sight of him. You'd stood alongside him as he fought to gain back the trust that he- James Barnes- had never been the one to lose. Again and again he was treated as a monster, a sinner, when all he had ever done was go fight in a war when he was asked 80 years ago and had paid the price for it ever since.

At times you didn't believe you deserved him- the kind, gentle love of your husband- why did they?

Lost in your own tirade, you hadn't noticed your husbands hands inching towards yours until the warm touch of his calloused fingertips begged for entrance into your closed fist.

"They already do pick me apart." His voice was rough, ragged. "I know you don't think I should do it, but I... I've spent so much of my life with no control over how it goes. I want to be able to do something, you know? Maybe I can make it better for other people, and us and... and if we have kids someday that end up with abilities like yours, they won't need to be scared like we were."

You could feel the steady beat of your heart thumping inside your chest. Your bottom lip quivered. Loosening your grip, you felt Bucky brush circles inside your palms.

His chest- shirtless from a restless night sleep- rose with a deep inhale.

"I won't do this without you."

It felt silly, almost, to think it but you were afraid of letting your husband out into the world. As if he wasn't several decades your senior, as if his face wasn't plastered in museums. But then again, the person the public knew was a hero or villain- not a man.

You knew the man- the one who lost sleep over memories that weren't his. The one who flipped a coin to decide whose turn it was to do the dishes. The one who slow danced with you to a scratchy vinyl on winter nights. Bucky Barnes was human and you were afraid they wouldn't see him for the man he was. Or refuse to and further hurt the man you loved.

You glanced down at your intertwined fingers. The light that was slowly pouring in had grown warmer and doused both your hands in its glow.

This was it, though, wasn't it? You've had the universe against you more times than you could count, what's a campaign trail?

You were together 'til the end of the line.

"I'll..." you started, squeezing Bucky's fingers. "If this is something you really want to do... I'll support you."

Bucky kept his mouth closed, waiting to hear it..

"But," you argued. "I won't stop getting my hands dirty. I'm an Avenger first and the Congressman's wife second."

And for the first time that morning, the tension shattered. You hadn't realized how thick it had been until your chest lifted.

Bucky was hunched over then, tendrils hanging in his face as he continued to massage your palm. It was then you noticed that in the years since his freedom, his posture had worsened. Buck'll complain about his back later, you thought.

The simplicity grounded you.

"'Congressman's wife," Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "God that sounds crazy."

You leaned forward and brushed a stray hair from his temple to get a better look into his eyes. Your fingers lingered against his skin.

You smiled.

"If there's one thing I know for sure though," you said. "Fuck, will you be able to pull off those suits."

A rumble of laughter escaped his throat and joined your own in a light symphony that drowned out the worries of before.

Your husband pulled your hand towards him, reeling you into his grasp. And before you could think, your lips were on Bucky's turning your giggles into delight-filled hmms.

He told you he loved you, not in words but in the feeling of his fingers gripping your top and his lips lingering on yours between breaths. You told him you loved him back.

Later, after you had washed Bucky's hair, massaging his scalp just as you had promised yourself earlier, you sat, hand in his, as he confirmed his intentions to run.

The rest of the day became a blur of phone calls and questions from wannabe campaign managers, journalists, politicians- really you couldn't remember- but what you would never forget was the way his eyes fell on you amidst the chaos of the afternoon, grounding him on his own world the two of you shared.

That morning Bucky had told you that he wouldn't run without you, but what he really meant was that he couldn't.

They said all the things you had warned him about. They scrutinized him to a degree that even his former captors would be impressed by and minimized his accomplishments so much so he wondered if they'd wipe his name from being next to Steve's in the museum.

Though, it ran off him like water with you by his side.

As evening turned to night and his phone finally stopped ringing, Bucky climbed under the sheets beside you.

And as your fingers traced the scars on his chest, humming his ringtone as you dozed off, he had a profound realization: how could the words of a stranger carry any weight when he received the love of a woman like you?

[littlexdeaths]

borrow the moonlight - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: descriptions of trauma/night terrors, upside down, mentions of eddie and reader’s deaths, allusions to smut, body insecurities, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, cream pie, one use of daddy

a/n: this might not make a lot of sense if you haven’t read the first part, so you can do that here.

also thank you to my baby @strangerstilinski for looking this over for me and @mugloversonly for the suggestion on the title 💕

based on as long as you’re mine from wicked

word count: 3.4k

His feet hit the ground at a rapid pace, his makeshift shield clutched tightly in his fist. His spear had long been abandoned, the metal lid now his only source of protection.

Not much farther now, keep pushing.

The flapping of bat wings are getting closer as Dustin’s high pitched screams cut through the air.

“Eddie! Run faster!”

He’s almost there, the trailer door is barely ten feet away now. And that much closer to you. His ears are ringing and your words echo through his head.

Please come back to us.

Eddie’s foot catches on a vine, causing him to go crashing to the ground. His eyes widen in fear as the swarm of demobats suddenly surround him. Another scream pierces the air as he holds the shield over his face, dread filling his chest.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

You weren’t supposed to go through the gate, you were supposed to stay in Hawkins. Why didn’t you listen to him for once? But before Eddie can process what’s happening he feels a bite pierce through the flesh of his stomach, his own screams sounding far away in his ears.

But when he feels your hands on his chest the panic really sets in, and you move the shield away from his face. The bats are circling the both of you now, and he attempts to tuck you into his side. The metal lid now covers your faces as the male uses his own body to shield the rest of you.

“I couldn’t just leave you in here,” your voice shakes and tears stream down your cheeks.

A painful cry leaves your lips as one of the creatures bites down on your calf.

“Stupid, baby, you’re so stupid!” He cries before pressing his lips to yours.

The creatures circling above you let out one more loud shriek, and Dustin watches in utter horror as they dive down toward you both. Before Eddie can process what’s happening, you’ve rolled yourself on top of him. Shielding his body from the onslaught of demobats, your cries of pain echo loudly in his ears.

No no no.

Eddie awakes with a start, a muffled scream ripping its way out of his lungs as he sits straight up in bed. He’s dripping sweat, chest rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath. He frantically pats the spot beside him; he panics once he notices it’s empty, the sheets cool to the touch.

Meaning you hadn’t been in bed for quite some time. He swings his legs over the side of the mattress, but he doesn’t get the chance to stand before you’re rushing back into your bedroom. His heart rate begins to slow as he takes you in, fully coming back to reality.

You’re wearing one of his old Garfield t-shirts, the neck is so stretched out it’s basically hanging off of your shoulder. Your legs are bare, just a pair of fuzzy socks adorning your feet and the sight brings a small smile to his lips.

Your hair is messy from sleep and pulled back from your face. But the dark circles under your eyes tell him you’ve been up for a lot longer than he realizes.

Despite all of that, you still managed to take his breath away.

“Another nightmare?” your voice is soft, practically a whisper as you approach him.

Eddie reaches forward to grab your shirt in his fist, pulling you between his open legs. He buries his face in your middle and you wrap your arms around him, pressing a tender kiss to his sweaty curls.

“You— you went through the gate.” His voice is muffled as you run your fingers through his curls.

“You… you…”

Eddie can’t speak the words, but you already know what he was going to say.

His shoulders shake as he starts to cry, but the implication of his words makes a lump form in your throat.

“It’s okay baby, it was just a dream. I’m right here.”

You let him soak your shirt with his tears, knowing he needed to let it out before he’d calm down completely. It had been well over a week since he had a nightmare of this magnitude, and you had thought he was beginning to improve.

Clearly, you were very wrong.

This was the first time he had never dreamt of you dying though, and it broke your heart. In the beginning it was him who had been the one to comfort you when you awoke in the dead of the night. Dreams of his lifeless body, trapped in the upside down forever flashing behind your eyes. But the further away from Hawkins you went, is when his nightmares began.

So now it was your turn to comfort him.

When his breathing starts to slow, he carefully pulls away from your middle. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy as he glances up at you, the tear streaks beginning to dry on his cheeks.

“Can I see her?” he asks hoarsely.

You smile softly, carefully untangling yourself from him. You press a light kiss to his forehead, before you slip out of the room. Eddie wipes any remaining tears from his cheeks, running a hand through his messy curls in an attempt to tame them.

You return a few moments later with a bundle of blankets in your arms. Eddie’s face immediately lights up at the sight of you two, grinning as you carefully pass the sleeping infant into his awaiting arms.

“I just got her to go back to sleep, so try not to wake her,” you whisper.

You take a seat beside him on the bed, watching fondly as he gazes down at the little girl. A calloused finger lightly strokes her rosy cheek, before she sleepily wraps her small hand around his finger. Her dark curls are sticking up wildly, much like his own. She was almost a carbon copy of him, except for her eyes.

Those were all you.

“I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long… she was just so fussy,” you apologize, exhaustion clear in your voice.

Exhaustion soon melts into worry the longer you look at him, worried that your prolonged absence was the reason for his sudden night terror. Despite knowing that these things were quite common, especially considering what you both had gone through.

Eddie just shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your daughter’s little fist before meeting your eyes.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, I promise. Having both of you here really helps,” he reassures you.

When Winnie starts to stir in his arms, he begins to gently rock her back and forth, cooing at her every so often. The sight of the two of them together makes your heart feel more full than you could have ever anticipated. You want him to soak up as much time with her as possible, so you slip out of the room again and into your small kitchen.

After everything that happened with Vecna, closing the gates and eventually clearing Eddie’s name— you both put Hawkin’s in your rearview mirror.

You found yourself in a small, but cute seaside town on the coast of Washington. After you quickly realized the hustle and bustle of city life just wasn’t for either of you. While Indianapolis was a great city, you barely made it a month before the nightmares started.

The constant noise only seemed to fuel his growing anxiety, and he woke up screaming more nights than not. His body would be drenched in sweat and he trembled in your arms as the memories of the upside down flashed behind his eyes. The longer you stayed there the worse it became, so you packed up and moved again.

But you would do anything for him, if it meant he was by your side. That he was safe.

Opening the kitchen cabinet you grab out one of the many mugs that used to line the walls of the Munson trailer, one that Wayne had insisted you take with you. Cradling the chipped ceramic in between your palms, you grab out a packet of hot chocolate and empty the powder into the mug. You turn on your electric kettle, before glancing out the kitchen window.

The night is absolutely still, quiet.

Much like you preferred it to be. Experiencing life in the big city made you realize just how much you missed your sleepy little hometown. Before it was overrun by monsters.

You let your eyes slip shut, remembering all those nights you spent with Eddie at lover’s lake. Before your life was turned upside down.

Only the sounds of crickets and your mingled breathing fill the night air. The moon shone brightly overhead, engulfing you both in a pale glow. His fingers would trail over your smooth skin, his mouth swallowing your soft whimpers when they dip further between your thighs—

You’re suddenly snapped out of your daydream when you hear the soft pad of footsteps coming down the hall towards you. And your eyes flutter open when you feel his arms slip around your waist.

“Hopefully she doesn’t wake up again tonight,” he mumbles sleepily, pulling you flush against his chest.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching as you begin pouring the warm water into the mug.

“Is that for me?” he asks, his breath tickles your neck and causes you to squirm in his embrace.

His lip lifts in a cheshire like grin when the movement has you unintentionally grinding your ass back into him.

“Mhm, to help you sleep.”

You shrug, knowing from past experience how a cup of hot chocolate was always able to coax him back into a deep slumber. It was something Wayne had mentioned in passing once, it was one of the only things that would help when Eddie awoke from a nightmare as a young boy.

You glance up at the clock on the wall, 4:07 am. Eddie would have to be up to go back into the shop in a few hours.

He hums, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and traveling down your throat. His hands that were once secure around your middle begin to wander lower, brushing against the hem of your t-shirt.

“Hmm… I think I know of something better to help me sleep, darlin’.”

Eddie spins you around in his arms, a small gasp escaping you at the sudden movement. The brunette quickly lifts you, setting you on the counter before slotting himself between your open legs. His lips are on yours before you have a chance to reply, your arms slipping around his neck to tug him closer.

His urgency leaves you a little breathless when his mouth trails back down the side of your neck, descending… lower lower lower. Until his lips brush against the curve of your knee and those brown hues gaze up at you longingly from his newfound position on the kitchen floor.

“Eddie…” you hum, caressing the stubble that lines his jaw.

The male continues to press his lips along the apex of your thighs, only stopping when you grip his curls in your fist. You tug on them harshly, in an effort to get his attention, a throaty moan leaves him from your actions.

“Please, let me,” you pause as he sucks onto the flesh of your inner thigh. A soft whine leaves you as his teeth soon graze over that same spot, “Let me take care of you for once.”

The brunette glances up at you again, and the pleading look on your face is enough to convince him. Not that Eddie could ever tell you no, he’s been wrapped around your finger from the first moment he laid eyes on you.

He rises to his feet without another word and helps you down from the counter. You eagerly switch places, guiding him back against the cabinets. Your hands trail down the bare skin of his chest, fingers showing extra care to the uneven flesh.

The scars that littered his torso were just another reminder of what the two of you had been through. Eddie hated them, and for the longest time afterwards he never let you see them. And while they were a reminder of the horrific things he had gone through in that other dimension, they were also a testament of his strength.

That he fought his way back to you— both of you.

“You’re beautiful, Eds,” you mumble, your lips passing over where your fingertips had just been.

Until you sink to your knees, gripping the elastic band of his boxers and tugging them down his thighs. His hardened cock springs free once the fabric pools at his feet, and he kicks them to the side. Your mouth practically waters as you take him in fully. Reaching out to wrap a delicate hand around the base of his shaft, and you feel him shudder.

“I love you,” he breathes, dark eyes watching you with the utmost admiration.

You press a kiss to the pink tip before taking him past your full lips, a low groan leaving his own. His head tilts back as you engulf him completely, fingers gripping the edge of the counter to stable himself. Eddie practically whimpers when he feels you gag around him, hips jutting forward until he hits the back of your throat.

While his eyes have slipped shut, yours are focused intently on him. The way his teeth sink into his lower lip when he tries to quiet himself, and his brows scrunch together when your tongue drags along the underside of his cock. They only flutter open again when he reaches out to rest his palm on the back of your head, slowly fucking himself into your mouth.

“That’s it… shit. You look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he grunts.

The volume of his moans steadily increases as you pick up the pace. One of your hands rests on his thigh, while the other moves to cup his balls. His face continues to contort in pleasure, each drag of his cock against your tongue has heat pooling in your lower belly. His thigh begins to tremble beneath your palm, and you know he’s close.

Before he reaches that precipice, he’s pulling you off him. A string of saliva drips down your chin as you practically pout up at him. Eddie laughs softly, taking your hands to help you to your feet.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he cradles your face in his palms. “I just don’t want this to end yet.”

The male leans forward, capturing your lips with his own. He begins to walk you backwards until you bump into the kitchen table, only pulling away to lift the sleep shirt over your head. Eddie guides your panties down your thighs and helps you step out of the fabric.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl,” while you raise an eyebrow at his request, a playful smile graces over his features, and that dimple makes an appearance.

Eddie carefully lifts you again, and you hiss quietly as the cool wood of the table touches your overheated skin.

“It’s my turn to worship you,” he asserts.

Eddie then kisses the tip of your nose before coaxing you to lay back against the hard surface. A small shiver runs through you as he leans over you, the light above the stove bathing the kitchen in a warm, yellow hue. It casts an almost halo-like glow around his silhouette, he looks like an angel.

His head dips, kissing along your collarbone and your breath begins to pick up in your chest. He can feel your heart racing beneath his lips, which spurs him on further. Those same lips graze over the swell of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak. He soon switched to show the same amount of attention to the other.

But Eddie doesn’t stop there, allowing his lips to travel over the stretch marks that zigzagged across your lower tummy and hips.

Your own set of battle scars, while different from his— only made you more beautiful in his eyes.

He could tell from the change in your breathing that you were nervous, hands pushing his long curls back from his face. While his body had changed, so had yours. Growing a little version of the two of you had widened your hips, thighs. The raised stripes along your skin was something you were still getting used to.

Despite knowing how much he adored you, that little voice in the back of your head continued to tell you that you weren't as desirable as you used to be. That he wouldn’t want you in the same way he used to, your body was too different. Eddie notices the far off look in your eyes, and he already knows the reason for it.

But he wouldn’t let you dwell on those thoughts for long.

“So goddamn gorgeous…” he nuzzles his face into your stomach, blowing raspberries against your skin. The brunette grins at you as you giggle softly, “That’s my girl.”

He slowly crawls on top of you, resting his palms on either side of your head before slotting himself in between your open thighs. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, his dark eyes beginning to melt your remaining defenses.

You reach between your bodies to grasp his shaft, lining him up with your entrance. He sinks in slowly, savoring the way your warm walls envelop him fully. Once he’s fully seated at your deepest point, his head drops. Forehead resting against your own as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Eddie gives an experimental thrust forward, his cock dragging against your walls in such a delicious manner. The feeling has you whining softly, clutching onto him as he fills you to the brim with each gentle rock of his hips. The table beneath you creaks in protest, but the sound only encourages him to go deeper— faster.

Determined to watch you fall apart beneath him.

And when his cock hits that perfect spot that has you keening aloud, he presses his lips to yours to silence you. You can feel him everywhere, body completely molded against yours. So much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Eddie can feel the way you start to tremble beneath him, your manicured nails digging harshly into his biceps. Just another way that you’ve marked him as your own. His lips soon detach from your own, trailing down your jaw to the hollow of your throat.

It’s been far too long since you’ve been like this, between his long hours at the shop and taking care of your newborn baby… you haven’t been able to have this time together.

So as much as you both would love to do this for hours, your bodies clearly have other plans.

Another whimper of his name has his cock twitching inside you, his thrusts beginning to pick up speed as your walls clamp down harder around him.

“You gonna make me a daddy again, angel?” he pants into your damp skin, the question being the thing to finally push you over the edge.

You cry out incoherent babbles of his name and exclamations as your body shakes. Stars dancing behind your eyes when they squeeze shut. Curses tumble from his mouth when you feel him spill inside you, continuing to rock his hips until the exhaustion finally overtakes him.

Eddie all but collapses onto you, sweaty and spent. You giggle when he nips at your shoulder, lifting his head to regard you with the sleepiest of expressions.

But that peace doesn’t last long.

The phone rings suddenly, a shrill sound makes you wince. A loud wail soon follows, both sounds piercing your ears. You both are scrambling off the table in a flurry of limbs.

“Can you go get her, please?” you groan, pulling your discarded shirt over your head before you reach for the receiver.

Eddie haphazardly pulls his boxers back up his legs before he rushes down the hall toward your crying infant.

“Hello?”

You can’t hide the bitterness from flooding your tone, knowing sleep wouldn’t be coming for quite some time now that your daughter was awake again.

“You need to come back to Hawkins… now.”

You would recognize Robin’s voice anywhere, but the urgency in her tone has your brows scrunching in confusion.

You grip the phone tighter in your palm, “Why? Rob, what's going on?”

It’s silent for a beat, only the sounds of her shuddered breathing on the other end of the line.

“He’s back.”

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💕@loserboysandlithium @razzeith @vamp-bunny @take-everything-you-can @probablyin-bed @mmunson86 @eddies-acousticguitar @nailbatanddungeon @guiltyasquinn

[loveinhawkins]

Head spinning from blood loss, Eddie still manages to keep up a steady stream of curses as he lies in Steve’s arms, as he feels the jolt of Steve sprinting through The Upside Down.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking bullshit, fuck.”

“Good,” Steve says, frantic and out of breath. “Good, that’s—keep it up, Henderson says it can be, like, a sorta pain relief? Something about—”

“Fuck.” This time, Eddie chuckles through it. “S’not why I’m saying it.”

“No?” Steve says in that weird, measured tone that just silently screams panic, panic, panic. “Why?”

“Jus’ making sure,” Eddie says, and he knows that doesn’t make sense yet, can’t quite get his brain to work everything out. “Those’d be shit last words, so. They won’t be. You… fuck, ow. You know? Here lies Eddie Munson: fuck.”

Steve laughs, maybe a little hysterical, a little desperate, but mostly genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be really embarrassing, man.”

Eddie suddenly can’t find the energy to act insulted, even though he badly wants to make Steve laugh again—but it turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Steve keeps talking.

“D’you know what that would be, though? A damn good yearbook quote.”

And Eddie laughs, too—laughs even though it hurts. “C’mon, man, Higgins would never let—”

“Eddie,” Steve manages to drawl out, even as he dextrously weaves through the vines on the ground, like Eddie’s just said something particularly naive. “You think Higgins looks over the yearbooks? You just gotta sweet-talk the yearbook committee, they pay the printers to turn a blind eye, and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m known for. Sweet-talking,” Eddie says. He tries very hard not to cough, has the horrible feeling that he might tear himself in two if he does.

“Don’t sell yourself short, dude,” Steve says.

And Eddie would blame that on the blood loss for making him hear things, but then Steve’s hands gently squeeze around him like he means it, and…

“So what… what was your yearbook quote, Harrington?” Eddie says. He firmly ignores the fact that his voice is becoming increasingly slurred.

Steve picks up the pace, kicks through the door into the trailer. His breath hitches once, but not from physical strain; Eddie knows that he’s frightened.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve replies, chiding, because he’s so goddamn brave, too. “Not telling you that until we get out of this.”

“Tease,” Eddie says.

But he must not get it out very clearly, because as Steve heads to the Gate, he murmurs, “Stay with me, Eddie.”

There’s some rope Steve had stashed in the corner of the living room, just in case, and Robin and Nancy must’ve made use of it to get Dustin through, because it’s already hovering in the air, waiting for them.

“Okay,” Steve says, half to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Eddie attempts a nod. The room spins.

Or maybe it’s just that they’re moving somehow, that Steve’s pulling them both up the rope, somehow not letting go of Eddie; and then he can hear muted yells from the other side, and he’s being lifted up on his own, like he’s ascending to heaven or some bullshit like that, and he almost wants to demand a re-mark on his English paper, because religious symbolism is fucking hilarious, actually.

“You’re a goddamn trapeze artist, Harrington,” he says, and Steve must hear him this time, because there’s a laugh from just behind him, a fucking beautiful laugh, and then Eddie’s falling, and he’s—

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and his hand goes to his side instinctively, and he didn’t think he had much more blood in his body left to lose, but… “Oh, shit.”

His vision tilts sickeningly, and right before he passes out, he sees Steve appear in front of him, sees his face turn white.

“Eddie,” he’s saying, “Nance, what do I—oh my god—”

-

When Eddie wakes up, everything is fuzzy, his head full of cotton. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he has enough awareness not to panic about, that he somehow knows isn’t blood.

“So?” he says through the fog, lifts his eyelids just enough to see Steve is beside him. “What’s your yearbook quote?”

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Steve says with a smile, but he’s speaking in the thick, nasal tones of someone who’s been crying. “Thought you were on stuff that makes you forget all the stupid shit.”

“S’not stupid,” Eddie says indignantly.

For some reason, Steve’s eyes soften. “If you say so. Just rest right now, Eddie.”

“Can’t,” Eddie moans. He’s already made the mistake of looking up: the lights are too bright, quickly turning into nauseating swirls. “Feel sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “They said that’s normal. Hey, shh, just lie back. It’ll pass.”

But Eddie shakes his head and—ooh, shit, not a good idea.

“Y’should move, man,” he says. “Don’t wanna puke on you.”

Steve scoffs. “Eddie, you could literally throw up in my hair, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Eddie laughs, feels a bit pathetic that it comes out wet around the edges. “I just… wanna sleep,” he says, because he does, but he knows the nausea will keep him up—feels abruptly tearful, like he had done as a child with whooping cough, up for the whole night despite his fatigue.

“Here,” Steve says. “Close your eyes.”

And as he does so, Eddie feels a soothingly cool palm across his forehead. Steve. It’s such a gentle touch, such a kind touch that Eddie thinks he might cry—thinks he can only partly blame whatever drugs he’s on.

“Better?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Eddie agrees. And then, like a fool, he hurriedly says, “Don’t stop, though,” out of fear that Steve will draw his hand back at the answer.

Steve doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease him even the slightest bit.

“I won’t,” he says, like an oath. His thumb rubs over Eddie’s temple. “M’sorry you feel shitty.”

“It’s okay. You’re right, it’s passing. Think… think it was just… lookin’ at the lights.”

Eddie sighs without meaning to, lulled by the repetitive path Steve’s fingers are tracing, over and over.

“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes closed, then.” Steve hums softly, just in thought, not even close to a lullaby, but Eddie feels himself starting to drift off to it anyway.

“It’s a nice room you’ve got,” Steve says. “I would’ve rioted if it wasn’t. Big window. Just a view of the parking lot, sorry, not exactly five stars.” Another hum. “Kinda pretty in its own way, though. It’s getting a bit warmer. I saw—the other day, I looked out and saw these kids, there’s some grass a little bit away from… they were making daisy chains, I think. Was never good at… couldn’t get ‘em to tie right. So I’d just kinda tug at the grass, and… Hey, d’you know, some of the kids—like, our kids, I mean—they don’t even know about the buttercup thing, holding it to see if it like, glows, under your chin? I told Max about it when she got outta here—shh, she’s okay—and she just looked at me like I was crazy. She’s good at daisy chains, man, she told Lucas it was five dollars per flower and he paid it all, wore the damn thing on his wrist for the whole day. Stupidly sweet, but I couldn’t even say so or she’d, like, punch me.”

And Eddie’s used to painting a picture with words, used to creating fantastical landscapes out of thin air during campaigns. But as Steve goes on, talking about the kids (their kids), and flowers, and all the little signs of spring that he can’t see, Eddie falls asleep thinking that Steve’s given him the most beautiful, ever-changing view: how he sees the world.

-

Eddie doesn’t forget about the yearbook, but he doesn’t bring it up, simply because Steve keeps quiet about it.

It’s after a few weeks of the dust settling, reassurances that the nightmare’s over: of seeing Wayne and breaking down in tears of relief, of countless visits from everyone—mostly Dustin, second only to Wayne, of course; Eddie still says Steve’s tied for second place, at least, but Dustin insists it doesn’t count whenever Steve’s only there fleetingly to drop him off before heading to work.

It’s on an afternoon when he’s not expecting anyone, and Steve comes in, drops the yearbook right on top of his blankets.

Eddie looks down at it, hovers his hand over the front cover until Steve raises one eyebrow, as if to say, go ahead.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to find him. The picture is… there’s something beautifully imperfect about it, as if Steve had been caught by surprise by the flash going off when it did, lips tilted into a smile that’s relaxed rather than the typical rigid, picture-perfect look.

Eddie thinks that he finally gets what Wayne means whenever he says someone has ‘soulful eyes.’

And underneath the little box framing Steve’s picture, there’s…

There’s nothing. It doesn’t stand out, because not everyone on that page had opted to have a quote, but…

Eddie looks up. Steve shrugs, but his eyes are downcast.

“Yeah, sorry.” His voice is quiet; Eddie can hear a touch of embarrassment, and he hates it. “It’s not even… I didn’t even choose to keep it blank, really, the yearbook committee gave the deadline so far in advance, it… I had the time. Could’ve put anything.” He shrugs again. “Guess I couldn’t… guess I just, um… had nothing to say.”

Eddie closes the book. Sets it aside. Doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He gets it. If it’s even possible for him to be included in a yearbook, he’s confident he’d do the same—how do you even begin to sum up…? There’s nothing he could say about this year.

There are no words for it. For any of it.

But Eddie knows the ones that count.

“Tell me about work,” he says. He has the feeling Steve’s determinedly squeezed in a visit during his lunch break, his name tag askew.

Steve smiles, wrinkles his nose uncertainly. “But that’s so boring.”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Maybe I like hearing what you have to say.”

Steve looks up finally; he smiles a little like he had in the photograph, as if something like a flash has surprised him.

And he talks about work.

But it’s more than that; it’s so much more. Eddie’s getting to see through a precious window.

He hears about how Steve noticed Robin wearing odd socks, and he only teased her about it when he was sure it wasn’t a deliberate twist on fashion she was trying out. How the sun meant it was hard to see the T.V, so he drew the blinds when no customers were around, made it feel like him and Robin had their own private cinema. And Eddie smiles fondly when Steve recalls smelling some kind of coconut perfume he couldn’t place, and Robin had started a list guessing names, just because he said it reminded him of a family vacation when he was four.

Eddie sees it all.

He doesn’t need clever one liners, or statements of grandeur.

He just needs Steve’s words.

[ordinaryschmuck]

I love that The Ghost and Molly McGee's forced cancellation isn't just frustrating to fans of the show but to people in the animation industry as well. They're just as sick as we are about how much studios disrespect animation. They keep looking for the next Spongebob, Simspons, or goodness forbid Family Guy, but instead having faith in the creators and their content, they just...wait. They wait to make a profit and do the bare minimum to market their shows and make them available.

Let's look at Gravity Falls for example. I remember that when Gravity Falls was still airing, you would be able to find out a new episode was coming out based on coming across a commercial by random chance or by the people working the show promoting it online. Add that with the fact that it was on a different channel that required you paying MORE for your cable to get it. It WAS available through Disney Channel, a channel more available at a cheaper price, but the entire of Season Two got moved to the more expensive Disney XD, where Disney shows go to die, because...REASONS. With no warning or announcement. I think I found out about Gravity Falls moving to Disney XD because the trailer played during a commercial break. And that's just the START the show's problems. Mixed in with poor marketing, the show would have a crazy inconsistent schedule, where we'd have four episodes a week, a few months of NOTHING, a few more episodes a week, nothing for a few months, a random episode playing between that nothingness with next to no promotion, and all of that happening to the rest of the show until it finally died a slow death with its series finale where four episodes got stretched out for six months. That...is NOT okay. And it doesn't stop with Gravity Falls.

Steven Universe, OK KO, Ducktales 2017, Amphibia, The Owl House, and now Ghost and Molly McGee are all shows that had similar and sometimes WORSE treatments as Gravity Falls did, where the networks gave next to NO marketing, the creators had to promote their own shows themselves, and the airing schedules were so inconsistent with wildly long hiatuses that only the most dedicated fans were willing to keep watching. General audiences (mainly kids) weren't willing to keep up with shows that had ongoing stories if the episodes stories kept being too spaced apart and never had reruns as frequent as other shows like Teen Titans Go or Big City Greens (Or whatever's constantly on network TV nowadays. I don't know. I mostly watch shit on streaming).

The people of the animation industry is catching onto all of these tricks, and they're getting sick of it. They're getting sick of inconsistent schedules. They're getting sick of trying to bend over backwards in every possible way to make the show they wanted. By either making serialized content as episodic as possible so the network could air it more or by condensing their stories as much as they can, already expecting that forced cancellation to happen sooner than later. And in some cases, they don't even get the luxury of being told their show is ending. Did you know that Inside Job and Paranormal Park both had seasons that were already in development before Netflix pulled the plug shortly after releasing new episodes of their shows? Did you know that The Ghost and Molly McGee was already working on a Season Three before Disney shut that down so they had to force out a series finale that would still be good despite the cancellation? Because it's true. It's ALWAYS true. Creators want to make MORE, but the studios won't let them because they didn't profit off of it. Except they WOULD HAVE if they treated it better.

I want kids to grow up with characters that stick around through their childhood, just like I did with mine. I want kids to have their own Ed, Edd n Eddy, Codename: Kids Next Door, Phineas and Ferb, or Kim Possible. I want kids to watch shows that last more than two-three seasons, stick around for years, and leave an impact as if they have all the time in the world because to them, it feels like they do. I want kids to have a show that ends on a high note because the creators wanted it and not because the networks demanded it. But the unfortunate thing is that it doesn't seem possible nowadays. Because if a mostly episodic show like The Ghost and Molly McGee fails, despite being charming and inoffensive and something most kids will love, the what hope IS left.

[oldsoul007]

Behind the Scenes

nicholas chavez x co-star!reader

summary: nicholas and reader help each other through a hard day of filming

warning: short and sweet

Me and Nicholas had been co-stars for years, sharing the screen in a gritty drama that pushed our emotional boundaries. The show was a critical success, but the intense scenes often left us drained and haunted by the characters we portrayed. Despite our on-screen chemistry, i kept my true feelings hidden, fearing it would complicate our professional relationship.

During particularly grueling filming days, me and Nicholas found solace in each other's company. We would sneak away to a quiet corner of the set, sharing stories and laughter to distract ourselves from the heavy material we were working on. Our best friend, Cooper, often joined us, providing much-needed comic relief and support.

One evening, after a heart-wrenching scene, i found myself unable to shake off the sadness. I sat alone in my trailer, tears streaming down my face. I hear a knock at the door and Nicholas walks right through smiling but then he sees me.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered. "We're in this together, remember?"

I leaned into him, finding comfort in his presence. "It's just so hard sometimes, Nic. I don't know how much more I can take."

Nicholas sighed, his heart aching for her. "I know. It's tough for me too. But we have each other, and we'll get through this."

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the unspoken feelings between us hung in the air. But before we could say anything, Cooper burst in, his usual cheerful self. "Hey, you two! I brought snacks. Let's take a break and watch something light-hearted."

Grateful for the distraction, we spent the evening laughing and joking, momentarily forgetting the weight of our roles. Yet, as the night drew to a close, the lingering tension between me and Nicholas remained.

Weeks passed, and the emotional toll of the show continued to wear us down. One night, after filming a particularly harrowing scene, Nicholas couldn't hold back his feelings any longer. He found y/n sitting alone on a bench outside the studio, staring at the stars.

"Y/n," he began, his voice trembling. "I can't keep pretending. I care about you more than just a co-star or a friend. "

I turned to face him. "Nic, I've felt the same way for so long. I was just too scared to say anything."

We stood there, the weight of our confessions hanging in the air. Slowly, Nicholas reached out and took my hand, pulling me into a tender embrace.

[ohsalome]

Today is a 37st anniversary of the Chornobyl Nuclear Plant disaster. It's hard to talk about one unprocessed national tragedy while living through another.

The Chornobyl disaster was totally preventable and it took away countless lives of people living in the region, especially in Ukraine and Belarus - both the liquidators and the civillians. Despite the very air and dust being literal poison, the soviets had not only hid this information from the people, but forced everybody to partake in the May the 1st parade - because god forbid we lose our face before the international community as a working class paradise! If not for the nuclear scientists in Sweden who raised the alarm about the dangerous levels of nuclear particles coming from northern Ukraine, who knows what would have happened. It definitely would have been swepped under the rug and forgotten by the international community, together with its victims - just like Semipalatinsk in Kazakhstan is barely known abroad.

With russia constantly threatening to turn Zaporhizhzha nuclear plant into second Chornobyl, the wound caused by this tragedy is cut open again.

We all love the HBO Chornobyl series, and I genuinely am grateful to Craig Mazin for the amount of empathy and respect he brought to the series; but for today I indulge you to watch something made by ukrainians, to try to understand what this tragedy means to us and how it influences our lives even today.

For the documentaries, my favourite series by this day remains the "Dragons live here" by Your Underground Humanitarian School Youtube channel, which, unfortunately, can only offer automated english subtitles - they should, however, be sufficient.

As for the feature films, I recommend "Gateway" (you can stream it online with english subtitles here). And here is the official english trailer:

[mineganoe]

Secret SSS Story pt.2

tripleS Chaeyeon x male reader

part 2

link for part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/mineganoe/780183823141994496/ssspart1?source=share

tags: drama, paizuri, blowjob, cowgirl, missionary words: 9.4k+

===================

"Cut! Great work, Chaeyeon-ssi!" the director’s voice rang out in the small studio at HAUS, tripleS’s headquarters, now transformed into a filming set. Midday sunlight streamed through large windows, bouncing softly off the white walls and creating a bright atmosphere that matched the concept for the reveal trailer of the fourth member: Chaeyeon. The spotlights, still glowing, were turned off one by one, and the crew moved swiftly, adjusting equipment for a retake or a brief break.

You stood in the corner, clipboard in hand, carefully overseeing the shoot. This was Chaeyeon’s introduction trailer as tripleS’s fourth member, a key moment for the growing group. Meanwhile, the first three members—Seoyeon, Hyerin, and Jiwoo—were in New York, busy filming a brand commercial with the senior manager and another production team. The full responsibility now rested on your shoulders, a junior manager, to ensure Chaeyeon’s debut went flawlessly in the sunlit HAUS.

Chaeyeon stood at the center of the set, her breathing still slightly quick from the last scene. Her long hair fell neatly, and the whitely dress she wore gave off a fresh vibe that blended perfectly with the sunlight flooding the room.

"Thank you, thank you for your help!" she said politely, bowing several times to the director and crew, who smiled back. Her demeanor was humble, but you could see the tension in her shoulders and her slightly trembling smile—lingering signs of nerves after the shoot.

You stepped closer, carrying a cold water bottle you’d grabbed from the crew’s table, feeling the warmth of the afternoon despite the studio’s air conditioning. The set behind you was being tidied, the sounds of equipment being moved and the crew’s light chatter creating a busy yet warm atmosphere.

"Great job, Chaeyeon-ssi," you said, offering the bottle with a gentle tone to ease her anxiety.

She took it with both hands, bowing slightly in thanks. "Thank you, Manager-nim," she said, her voice soft but sincere. She opened the cap and sipped slowly, then looked at you with eyes full of hope and a touch of worry.

"I was so nervous… I was scared I’d move wrong. I hope it turned out okay?"

You smiled, trying to boost her confidence. "You looked natural, Chaeyeon-ssi. The director said you did great, didn’t he? The fans are going to love seeing you in the trailer."

You point your nose toward the monitor in the corner, where the director was reviewing clips. "Come on, let’s check the footage together so you can see for yourself."

Chaeyeon nodded eagerly, though her cheeks were still flushed—perhaps from nerves or the studio’s warmth in the midday heat. You walked to the director’s table side by side, standing together as the monitor replayed the shoot.

The screen showed Chaeyeon moving gracefully, her shy yet captivating smile glowing under the sunlight softened by a diffuser. In one scene, she spoke to the camera, her voice clear and full of energy, introducing herself as part of tripleS. Chaeyeon watched with wide eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "It doesn’t… look bad, does it?" she said softly, glancing at you with a small smile.

"Way better than ‘not bad,’" you replied, chuckling. "You looked confident there. This part—" you pointed to a scene where she smiled while glancing to the side, her hair gently swaying in the artificial breeze—"this is going to make the fans fall in love."

The director nodded in agreement from the side. "You picked up the directions quickly, Chaeyeon-ssi. This is solid for the trailer. We might just need minor tweaks in editing, but you don’t have to worry." Chaeyeon bowed again, thanking him politely, and you noticed her shoulders relax, a clear sign of relief.

"Satisfied?" you asked, making sure she felt good about the result.

"Yes, Manager-nim. Really satisfied," she answered, her smile now wide and genuine. "I just hope the fans like it. This is my first time appearing as tripleS…" Her voice trailed off, but the sunlight streaming through the window made her eyes sparkle with hope.

You stepped back from the director’s table as the crew began packing up the set more quickly. The spotlights were off, and the bright midday sun now dominated the room, casting soft shadows on the floor.

The production team said their goodbyes, most heading back to the agency to start editing, while others loaded equipment into a van outside. The director gave you a quick wave before leaving, and soon it was just you and Chaeyeon in the quieter HAUS living room, bathed in warm sunlight.

You both sat on a long sofa near the window, the sunlight filtering through the glass and highlighting Chaeyeon’s gentle features. You set your clipboard aside, knowing this was a chance to connect with her—as her manager, you needed to understand her better.

"So, Chaeyeon-ssi," you began casually, "how does it feel to be back in the idol world after… what, a long break?"

Chaeyeon looked at her hands in her lap, then let out a soft sigh. "It wasn’t really a break, Manager-nim," she said, smiling faintly with a hint of pain. "I debuted with Busters before… maybe you’ve heard of them? But things didn’t go smoothly."

She paused, her fingers twisting the hem of her dress. "We worked hard, but a lot was out of our control—management, the market, everything. The group ended up disbanding, and I thought… maybe I wasn’t meant to be an idol."

You listened intently, not wanting to interrupt. Her honesty felt raw, something rare in this industry. "I felt like I’d failed," she continued, her voice quiet but firm. "I tried living a normal life, looking for other jobs, but my heart kept saying I wasn’t done. When the tripleS audition came up, I thought—this is my last shot. I never expected to pass, let alone debut."

She looked at you now, her eyes glistening but filled with gratitude. "I’m so lucky, Manager-nim. tripleS gave me a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it. That’s why I was so nervous today—I want to make everything perfect, for the agency, the fans, and… for myself."

You nodded, touched by her openness. "I understand, Chaeyeon-ssi. And from what I saw today, you gave it your all. Busters may not have worked out, but that wasn’t because of you. Now you’re with tripleS, and I’m sure you’ll amaze a lot of people." You smiled, hoping your words would encourage her.

She laughed softly, quickly wiping the corner of her eye. "Thank you, Manager-nim. You’re making me feel more confident." She glanced out the window at Seoul’s clear blue sky in the afternoon light.

"I can’t wait to meet Seoyeon-nim, Hyerin-nim, and Jiwoo-nim. I heard they’re in New York now—it must be exciting. I want to learn from them so I can help make tripleS bigger."

You nodded, though Seoyeon’s name gave you a slight jolt, reminding you of the secret in the Purple Room. You quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing on Chaeyeon. "They’ll definitely welcome you warmly," you said, keeping your voice steady. "And I’m here to help you settle in, so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Will do, Manager-nim," she replied, her smile as bright as the sunlight outside. You chatted longer about lighter things—her favorite foods, songs she’d been listening to, and upcoming practice plans. But in the back of your mind, the growing world of tripleS and your increasing responsibilities lingered, along with the secret that never truly faded, lurking behind the bright midday light.

===================

You and Chaeyeon sat side by side on the long sofa, the remnants of your earlier conversation fading into a quiet, meaningful pause. She fidgeted with the hem of her whitely dress shirt, her fingers twisting the fabric nervously. Her expression held a mix of hesitation and determination, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to begin.

“Chaeyeon-ssi, is everything okay?” you asked gently, your voice soft to encourage her. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

She lifted her gaze, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush under the sunlight. Biting her lower lip for a moment, she murmured, “Manajer-nim, I… I just want to be honest with you.” Her voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the faint hum of the room’s ventilation, but it carried a sincerity that caught your attention.

You nodded, leaning slightly forward to show you were listening. “You can tell me anything, Chaeyeon-ssi. As your manager, I’m here for you—always. Whatever it is, I’m all ears.” Your words were genuine, though a flicker of unease stirred in the back of your mind, memories of your secret with Seoyeon in the Purple Room lingering like a shadow.

Chaeyeon took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I just… I’m so grateful to be debuting again,” she started, her voice soft but heavy with emotion. “Manajer-nim, I don’t know if you can imagine, but I felt so broken after Busters fell apart.” She looked down again, her fingers tightening on her dress. “I tried to keep going, you know? back when i was an MC on Boni Hani too, but…” Her voice faltered, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

She paused, then continued, her tone trembling. “There, some seniors treated me badly. They called me a failed idol, said I was just chasing attention, that I didn’t belong on screen. I smiled through it, but every night when I got home, I felt worthless. I thought maybe I wasn’t meant for this world.”

You listened intently, her words weighing heavily on your heart. Chaeyeon, who had shone so brightly during the shoot earlier, now revealed a fragile side that made you want to protect her even more. “Chaeyeon-ssi, I had no idea you went through that,” you said softly, your voice full of empathy. “But what they said wasn’t true. You’re here with tripleS because you’re talented and resilient. I saw it myself today—you were amazing in the trailer.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she quickly wiped the corner of her eye. “Thank you, Manajer-nim. I just… I want to say how grateful I am to everyone at tripleS—the crew, the staff. They gave me a second chance I never thought I’d get.” She looked at you, her eyes shining with gratitude. “And especially you. You’ve made me feel welcome from day one, and that… it means everything to me.”

Her words warmed your heart, but before you could respond, she reached for your hand resting on the sofa. Her fingers wrapped around yours, soft and warm, her touch so sincere it sent a shiver through you. The gesture was gentle, yet it carried an intensity that made your resolve waver, despite the warning bells in your head. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you began, your voice catching, trying to find the right words to maintain boundaries.

But she held your hand tighter, her eyes locking onto yours with a quiet boldness. “You said I could say anything, right?” she whispered, her voice low and earnest. “This is what I want to say: I need to thank you… in my own way.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress shirt. The fabric parted, revealing the soft curve of her cleavage, framed by a simple white bra. Her breasts were fuller than you’d expected—larger than Seoyeon’s, a comparison that flashed unbidden in your mind, making your throat tighten.

“Chaeyeon-ssi, we can’t—” you started, your voice strained as you tried to stop her, but she gently guided your hand toward her chest before you could pull away. Your fingers brushed against the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breast beneath the thin bra, and a quiet gasp escaped her lips, sending a jolt through your body. “This is what I mean, Manajer-nim,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion and something deeper. “Let me thank you… please.”

You froze, your hand still on her, feeling the rapid beat of her heart under your touch. Your mind raced—Seoyeon, the Purple Room, your role as her manager—but the sincerity in her eyes, the warmth of her skin, and the quiet plea in her voice unraveled your defenses. “Chaeyeon-ssi, this is wrong…” you murmured, but your words lacked conviction, and your hand didn’t move, instead pressing slightly, eliciting another soft moan from her.

She leaned closer, her face inches from yours, her breath warm against your lips. “I know it’s not supposed to happen,” she whispered, her voice shaking but resolute, “but I can’t lie about how I feel, Manajer-nim.” Her other hand rose to your neck, her fingers tracing your skin lightly, and you felt a heat stirring within you, your body betraying the boundaries you were meant to uphold.

Chaeyeon unbuttoned one more button, her dress slipping further to reveal more of her, the sight both intimate and overwhelming. She guided your hand again, letting you feel the fullness of her breast, her breath hitching as your fingers pressed against her.

You knew you should pull away—every instinct screamed to stop, to rebuild the boundaries crumbling between manager and member—but the weight of her in your palm, so different from Seoyeon’s, held you captive. Chaeyeon’s breasts were undeniably larger, heavier, their softness almost hypnotic compared to the memory of Seoyeon’s more delicate frame. The contrast flashed in your mind, unbidden, fueling a heat you couldn’t suppress.

“Chaeyeon-ssi, we… we have to stop,” you managed, your voice hoarse, a weak protest drowned by the way your fingers betrayed you. Instead of pulling back, they pressed deeper, squeezing gently, feeling the give of her flesh and the faint outline of her nipple hardening under the fabric. A quiet moan slipped from her lips, her head tilting back slightly, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine, tightening the knot of desire in your chest.

She opened her eyes, catching your gaze, and a playful smile curved her lips—half-shy, half-teasing, as if she found your struggle endearing. “Manajer-nim, you’re so cute,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a warmth that felt both innocent and daring. “You say we shouldn’t, but you’re not stopping either.” Her words were gentle, not accusing, but they struck you like a spark, highlighting the truth you couldn’t deny. She wasn’t pushing you away—instead, she seemed to revel in your hesitation, her trust in you mingling with something bolder.

Before you could respond, Chaeyeon’s hands moved to her dress shirt. With slow, deliberate motions, she undid the remaining buttons, one by one, until the fabric fell open completely. The whitely shirt parted like curtains, revealing her torso—smooth, glowing under the sunlight—and the white bra that barely contained her full breasts. The sight was breathtaking, her curves more pronounced now, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. She let the shirt hang loosely on her shoulders, her breath hitching as the air brushed her exposed skin.

“You’re staring, Manajer-nim,” she teased, her voice light but carrying a playful challenge. She leaned closer, her hands resting on your thighs for balance, bringing her chest nearer to your still-wandering hands. “If you’re so curious… why don’t you take it off?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she nodded toward her bra, a daring glint in her expression

Your heart pounded, the room spinning under the weight of her words. “Chaeyeon-ssi, this—” you started, but your voice faltered as your hands moved almost on their own, squeezing her breasts again, thumbs brushing over the edges of her bra. The fabric felt flimsy, a fragile barrier between restraint and surrender. Her teasing laugh, soft and melodic, broke the silence, but it didn’t hide the way her breath quickened at your touch.

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispered, her tone a mix of encouragement and vulnerability. She shifted slightly, pressing herself closer, making it impossible to ignore the heat radiating between you. Her fingers grazed your wrist, guiding your hands to linger, and the invitation was clear—she wasn’t just allowing this; she was urging you forward.

She shifted suddenly, turning her body to face away from you, revealing the smooth expanse of her back. Her skin glowed under the sunlight, flawless and inviting, with the delicate curve of her spine leading your gaze to the taut straps of her white bra, still firmly clasped. The sight made your breath catch, the intimacy of the moment hitting you harder now that she wasn’t facing you.

“Manajer-nim,” she said softly, her voice a mix of nervousness and encouragement, “can you... take it off?” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes catching yours for a brief, electric moment before she looked away, her cheeks flushed.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your heart pounded in your chest. Your hands hovered uncertainly, drawn to the clasp but hesitant, knowing this step would push you further across a line you’d already blurred.

“Go on,” she urged gently, her voice steady despite the slight tremble in it. “It’s okay… I want you to.” Her words were both a reassurance and a pull, guiding you deeper into the moment.

You reached for the clasp, fingers fumbling at first, the small hooks proving trickier than expected. In your nervousness, the strap slipped, snapping lightly against her back with a soft twang.

“Aww, Manajer-nim!” Chaeyeon yelped, a mix of surprise and amusement in her voice as she flinched slightly. Her head turned, and she shot you a playful pout over her shoulder, though her eyes sparkled with laughter.

“S-sorry!” you stammered, your face heating up as you scrambled to recover. “I didn’t mean to—it’s just…” Your words trailed off, embarrassment mixing with the tension coiling in your chest.

She giggled softly, the sound light and disarming, easing the moment’s awkwardness. “It’s okay. Here, let me help you,” she said, her tone patient and teasing. “Just pinch the hooks together, then slide them out. Like this.” She reached back briefly, demonstrating with one hand before letting you try again, her guidance making her feel both vulnerable and in control.

You nodded, steadying your hands as you focused on the clasp. This time, your fingers moved with more care, following her instructions. The hooks released with a quiet click, and the bra loosened, its straps slipping slightly down her shoulders. Chaeyeon let out a small, relieved breath, her back still turned to you.

Slowly, she reached up, sliding the bra cups away from her chest and letting them fall to her lap, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet room.

Your heart raced, anticipation building as you watched her bare back, the curve of her shoulders, the way her hair cascaded over her skin. She hadn’t turned around yet, and the waiting was almost unbearable, each second stretching longer under the unrelenting sunlight.

You could feel your pulse in your throat, your hands clenching at your sides, torn between wanting her to stay as she was and craving the moment she’d face you again. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a mix of hesitation and longing.

She paused, her fingers lingering on the bra in her lap, as if savoring the tension. Then, with a soft chuckle, she said, “Manajer-nim, you’re so nervous… it’s cute.” Her voice was warm, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

“Just wait a second, okay?” she added, and you could hear the smile in her words, keeping you suspended in the moment, your breath hitching as you braced for what came next.

The quiet rustle of her movements snapped you back to the moment, and then, slowly, Chaeyeon began to turn.

She reached up, gathering her long hair with both hands, lifting her arms to tie it into a high ponytail. The motion revealed the smooth, pale curve of her underarm, glowing under the sunlight, and as she pivoted to face you, her bare torso came into view.

Your breath caught, your throat tightening until swallowing felt impossible. Her breasts, now fully exposed, were breathtaking—larger than you’d imagined, fuller and heavier than Seoyeon’s, with a natural weight that drew your eyes irresistibly.

Her nipples, slightly larger than you’d expected, were a soft brown, standing out against her fair skin, and a single small mole dotted the curve near her left breast, an intimate detail that made the moment feel even more surreal.

Your mouth went even dry, your pulse racing as you tried to process the sight before you. Your cock, already straining against your pants from earlier, throbbed painfully now, an undeniable response to her beauty and the forbidden line you were crossing.

Chaeyeon finished tying her ponytail, the motion causing her breasts to sway slightly, and she met your gaze with a mix of shyness and quiet confidence. You couldn’t look away, even though you knew you should.

She lowered her arms, then, with a deliberate but gentle motion, cupped her left breast, lifting it slightly as if to emphasize its weight. The gesture was both vulnerable and bold, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and you could see the effort it took to hold it, the sheer heft of it undeniable.

“This is actually a heavy burden I carry every day, Manajer-nim,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with playful sincerity. A small smile curved her lips, though her cheeks remained flushed, betraying the nervous courage behind her words.

You tried to speak, to find some way to pull back, but your voice stuck in your throat. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you managed, barely a whisper, your eyes locked on her—her lifted breast, the mole near her nipple, the way her ponytail swayed as she tilted her head.

She let her breast fall gently, the motion sending a subtle ripple through her chest, and leaned closer, her hands resting on your thighs for balance. “You don’t have to say anything, Manajer-nim,” she murmured, her voice low, almost soothing, though her eyes held a spark of something daring.

“I just… I want you to know how much this mean to me.” Her fingers tightened slightly on your thighs, inches from the bulge in your pants, and the proximity sent a fresh surge of heat through you, making it harder to think, to resist.

You tried to hold back, to cling to the last shred of your duty as her manager, but your hands betrayed you. They twitched at your sides, fingers curling with an almost desperate need to reach out, to feel the softness you’d only grazed moments ago.

Chaeyeon noticed, her eyes flicking to your hands, and a soft, amused smile curved her lips. “ㅎㅎ,” she chuckled, low and warm, tinged with a playful edge, “you don’t have to fight it.” She leaned closer, her ponytail swaying slightly, her hands still resting lightly on your thighs, inches from the evidence of your arousal.

“Chaeyeon-ssi, I…” you started, your voice hoarse, barely audible, but the words dissolved as your hands moved, almost of their own accord. You hesitated, fingers hovering just flying above her chest, the air between you charged with tension.

Chaeyeon tilted her head, her smile softening into something gentler, encouraging. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice a quiet reassurance. She shifted slightly, bringing her chest closer, giving you silent permission. “I want you to.” Her words were a spark, and your restraint crumbled completely.

Your hands reached forward, trembling at first, and then settled on her breasts, fingers sinking into their softness. They were heavier than you’d imagined, warm and pliant under your touch, filling your palms with a fullness that made your breath hitch.

You squeezed gently, almost reverently, feeling the give of her flesh and the faint firmness beneath. Chaeyeon let out a soft gasp, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again, locking onto yours with a mix of amusement and something deeper—trust, perhaps, or desire.

“You’re so careful, Manajer-nim,” she teased, her voice light but breathy, her cheeks flushed under the sunlight. She didn’t pull away, instead arching slightly into your touch, letting you explore. Your thumbs brushed over her nipples, the light brown peaks hardening under your fingers, and she bit her lip, a quiet moan escaping her.

The sound sent a jolt through you, your erection throbbing harder, and you squeezed again, more confidently now, unable to stop yourself from marveling at how different she felt compared to Seoyeon—fuller, softer, overwhelming.

Chaeyeon’s teasing smile, her gentle encouragement, only fueled you further, “you don’t have to hold back.”

Her words were like a key unlocking something primal within you, and before you could think, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against her breast.

The warmth of her skin met your mouth, and you pressed a tentative kiss, then another, before taking her nipple between your lips. The sensation was electric—her nipple firm yet yielding, a contrast to the plush fullness surrounding it. You sucked gently at first, then with more hunger, your tongue swirling over the sensitive peak, savoring the unique texture and heat.

“Yes, Manajer-nim!” Chaeyeon gasped, her voice a mix of surprise and delight, her head tilting back as her ponytail swayed. “You love this, don’t you?” Her tone was playful, almost triumphant, as if she reveled in seeing you unravel.

Her words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and you couldn’t deny the truth in them. Your free hand moved to her other breast, stroking and squeezing, fingers sinking into its softness, marveling at how different it felt— heavier, more overwhelming—than anything you’d experienced.

You buried your face between her breasts, the warmth and scent of her skin enveloping you, a heady mix of sweetness and intimacy that made your head spin. Your lips moved from one nipple to the other, sucking and teasing, while your hand continued its rhythmic kneading, drawing soft moans from her that echoed in the sunlit room.

Your cock strained painfully against your pants, the fabric dampening with precum as your arousal grew unbearable, every sensation heightened by her closeness and the forbidden thrill of the moment.

Chaeyeon noticed, her eyes flicking downward with a knowing glint. “Manajer-nim…” she murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. Her hand slid from your thigh to the bulge in your pants, fingers brushing over the taut fabric, feeling the slickness of your precum.

The contact made you groan against her breast, your hips twitching instinctively toward her touch. “You’re so worked up,” she teased softly, her fingers tracing the outline of your erection before finding the zipper.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she tugged it down, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and reached inside, freeing your cock from its confines. Her touch was light at first, her fingers wrapping around you, warm and sure, stroking gently as she explored your length. The relief was immediate but torturous, her slow rhythm only stoking the fire burning within you.

You pulled back slightly, your lips glistening from her skin, and met her gaze—her cheeks flushed, her eyes half-lidded with a mix of nervousness and boldness.

“Chaeyeon-ssi…” you groaned, your voice thick with need, barely able to form words as her strokes grew firmer, her thumb brushing over the slick tip of your cock. Her touch, her warmth, and the raw intimacy of this moment consumed you.

=================

Chaeyeon paused, her fingers slowing as she glanced up at you, a playful smile tugging at her lips, “Let me try something.”

Before you could respond, she shifted closer, her hands gently cupping her breasts, lifting their weight with a deliberate grace. She leaned forward, guiding your cock between them, enveloping you in their soft, warm embrace. The sensation was overwhelming—her breasts, full and pliant, pressed tightly around you, creating a perfect, slick warmth that made your breath catch.

You sank back against the sofa, your body almost reclining as the pleasure took hold, every nerve alight with the intensity of her touch. The sunlight poured over you both, illuminating the scene with a stark clarity—the curve of her shoulders, the faint mole near her nipple, the way her ponytail swayed as she moved. Chaeyeon began to move, her breasts sliding up and down your length with a slow, deliberate rhythm, the friction both gentle and maddening. “You like this, don’t you?” she teased, her voice breathy, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, sparkling with a mix of amusement and desire.

You groaned, unable to form words, your head tilting back as you surrendered to the sensation. Her breasts were a perfect fit, their weight and softness enveloping you completely, each motion sending shivers of pleasure through your core.

The slickness of your precum mingled with her skin, easing the glide, and the sight of her—so exposed, so confident—only heightened the rush.

But Chaeyeon wasn’t done. She leaned forward further, her lips parting as she lowered her mouth to the tip of your cock, her tongue darting out to tease you with a quick, warm flick.

The combination was devastating—her breasts squeezing you tightly, her mouth joining in with soft, tentative licks that grew bolder with each pass. She took you deeper, her lips closing around the head, sucking gently while her breasts continued their rhythmic motion, the dual sensations pushing you to the edge.

“Chaeyeon-ssi…” you managed, your voice a strained groan, your hands gripping the sofa cushions as you fought to stay grounded. Her moan vibrated against you, a low hum that sent sparks through your body, and you could feel the heat building, your control slipping further with every second.

She glanced up again, her eyes half-lidded, her cheeks flushed under the sunlight. “Manajer-nim, just enjoy it,” she whispered, her voice muffled as she returned to her task, her tongue swirling over you while her breasts pressed even tighter, the pressure and warmth almost unbearable.

The way her lips glistened as she worked. Your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more, and she adjusted effortlessly, her movements growing faster, more deliberate, as if determined to unravel you completely. Her breasts and mouth worked in perfect harmony, you felt yourself teetering on the brink, caught in a tide you could no longer resist.

Each movement of her full, heavy breasts—sliding up and down with a rhythm that grew more confident, more tantalizing—sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, amplified by the soft, wet heat of her mouth teasing your tip.

The pleasure was unbearable now, each stroke of her breasts and flick of her tongue pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands gripped the sofa cushions, knuckles white, as your hips twitched involuntarily, chasing the sensation.

“Chaeyeon-ssi…” you couldn’t take it anymore—the heat, the pressure, the sight of her glowing under the sunlight, her ponytail swaying with each motion. A surge of need overtook you, primal and unstoppable.

You gently but firmly pushed her back, guiding her down until she was lying flat on the sofa, her bare torso stretched out beneath you. Her breasts settled slightly, their weight spreading enticingly.

You moved swiftly, kneeling over her, your knees bracketing her hips as you positioned yourself above her. Your cock, slick and throbbing, hovered just above her breasts, the anticipation making your pulse race.

Chaeyeon looked up at you, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. “Manajer-nim…” she murmured, her voice breathy, but there was no hesitation in her gaze—only a quiet invitation, a willingness to let you take the lead. Her hands rested lightly on your thighs, grounding you, encouraging you, as the sunlight poured over her, illuminating every curve, every detail.

You pressed her breast together with your hands, marveling at their softness, their fullness. The sensation was electric as you began to move, thrusting slowly at first, the slick warmth of her skin enveloping you completely. Chaeyeon gasped softly, her fingers tightening on your thighs, and she arched her back slightly, pushing her breasts closer, amplifying the friction.

“Yes, Manajer-nim,” she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and encouragement, her lips parting as she watched you, her ponytail splayed across the sofa like a dark halo. Each thrust between her breasts sending you spiraling closer to release. Your hands kneaded her flesh, fingers sinking into their softness, and the faint brown of her nipples, hardened and inviting, brushed against your palms, adding to the dizzying rush.

The sofa creaked under your movements, your cock glistened with precum, easing each thrust, and the pleasure was relentless, building with every second. Chaeyeon’s hands slid higher, one grazing your hip, steadying you as you moved, her touch a reminder of her presence, her consent, her desire to share this with you.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak as you knelt over her, your hips moving with a desperate rhythm.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The heat, the pressure, the sight of her breasts molding around you pushed you past the point of control. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you groaned, your voice breaking as your body tensed, the climax surging through you like a tidal wave.

You thrust harder, faster. Your hands pressing her breasts tightly together, the slickness of your precum easing each movement. The pleasure crested, and with a low, guttural moan, you came, your release spilling hot and thick across her chest, painting her breasts and catching the faint mole in its path.

The intensity didn’t stop there—your hips jerked involuntarily, and another pulse shot upward, streaking across her collarbone and landing on her flushed cheek, a glistening drop clinging to her skin.

Chaeyeon gasped softly, her eyes widening for a moment before softening into a mix of surprise and quiet satisfaction. She didn’t pull away, her hands still resting on your thighs, steadying you as you trembled above her, your breaths heaving in the aftermath.

Her chest glistening with your release, a single bead trailing down toward her neck, the streak on her face catching the light like a forbidden mark. Your cock throbbed with the last pleasure, softening slightly but still slick between her breasts, which rose and fell with her quickened breaths.

“Manajer-nim…” she said softly, her voice a mix of amusement and warmth, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at you, unfazed by the intimacy of what had just happened.

You collapsed back slightly, still kneeling over her, your hands falling to your sides as reality crashed in. “Chaeyeon-ssi, I…” you started, your voice hoarse, but words failed you, lost in the haze of what you’d done.

===================

She sat up slowly, her breasts shifting with the movement, the evidence of your climax still glistening on her skin. “It’s okay, Manajer-nim,” she murmured, her tone gentle, almost soothing, as she reached for her discarded dress shirt, not to cover herself but to dab lightly at her cheek.

“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Her eyes sparkled, her flushed cheek still bearing a trace of your release, and the sight stirred a conflicting rush of awe and shame within you.

The air was heavy with the aftermath, your body still trembling from the intensity of release, your cock softening between her breasts as you knelt above her on the sofa. Her quiet smile, warm and unashamed, met your dazed gaze, she shifted beneath you, her breasts rising with each breath.

But then her gaze dropped to your cock, still slick and sensitive, and a new glint of mischief crossed her face. “I’m not done yet, though,” she said, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper, a hint of hunger beneath her words. Before you could protest, she leaned forward, positioned herself between your legs.

“Chaeyeon-ssi, wait—” you started, your voice hoarse, still reeling from the climax, but she silenced you with a soft, reassuring smile.

Her fingers wrapped around your sensitive cock, her touch light but deliberate, and you flinched at the intensity, your nerves still raw. “Just relax, Manajer-nim,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin as she leaned closer.

Her tongue flicked out, teasing the tip with a slow, deliberate lick, and a jolt of pleasure mixed with overstimulation shot through you, making you gasp.

She didn’t stop there. Her lips parted, and she took you into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the sensitive head, cleaning the remnants of your release with a care that felt both intimate and possessive.

The sensation was almost too much—your cock twitched, caught between the lingering sensitivity and a stirring heat as she worked. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, half-lidded and gleaming with satisfaction, and the sight of her lips wrapped around you, her breasts swaying slightly with each movement, sent your mind reeling.

Chaeyeon’s mouth moved lower, her lips brushing along your shaft before she shifted her attention to your balls, sucking gently, her tongue tracing slow, warm circles. The new sensation drew a low groan from your throat, your hands gripping the sofa as your body arched involuntarily.

“Chaeyeon-ssi…” you managed, your voice strained, but she only hummed softly, the vibration sending another spark through you. Her touch was relentless yet tender, coaxing your cock back to life despite the sensitivity, and you felt yourself hardening again, the ache of arousal returning with a vengeance.

She noticed, pulling back slightly to admire her work, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she stroked you lightly, coaxing you back to full arousal. “See, Manajer-nim?” she said, her voice playful yet sultry. “You’re not done either.”

"You’re ready for more, aren’t you?” Before you could respond, she reached toward the small coffee table beside the sofa, her fingers deftly retrieving a tiny purse tucked among her belongings.

From it, she produced a foil packet—a condom—its appearance catching you off guard, a jolt of surprise cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“You… always carry condoms?” you asked, your voice low, a mix of curiosity and unexpected disappointment creeping in. The sight of it stirred something uneasy—you hadn’t anticipated this level of preparedness, and it made you wonder about her intentions, her past. Your heart sank slightly, though the arousal still pulsed through you, clouding your thoughts.

Chaeyeon glanced at you, her smile playful but reassuring as she tore open the packet with a practiced ease. “Better to be prepared.” she said lightly, her tone teasing yet calm.

“Don’t worry, Manajer-nim—it’s thin. You’ll still feel everything.” Her fingers moved with confidence, rolling the condom onto your cock with a slow, deliberate touch, her warmth lingering through the latex as she ensured it fit snugly. The sensation, though slightly muted, sent a fresh shiver through you, your erection twitching under her care.

You swallowed hard, the question burning in your throat despite the intimacy of the moment. “That's not the problem rather than you… have done this a lot?” you asked, your voice hesitant, searching her face for answers. The weight of your words hung between you, a flicker of doubt surfacing as you realized how little you truly knew about her experiences.

Chaeyeon’s movements paused, her expression flattening for a moment, her eyes unreadable as they met yours. The silence stretched, heavy under the sunlight, before she answered, her voice steady but carrying a quiet edge.

“This is how I’ve survived in the entertainment world, Manajer-nim,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact, though a trace of vulnerability lingered beneath it.

“I’ve done it more times than I’d like to count.” She finished securing the condom, her fingers lingering briefly before pulling away, her gaze softening as she looked at you.

Her words hit you like a wave, a mix of raw honesty and unexpected weight. The revelation stirred a pang of sympathy, mingling with the desire still coursing through you, and you found yourself caught between wanting to comfort her and the undeniable pull of the moment. Chaeyeon leaned closer, her hands resting on your thighs, her breasts brushing against your legs as she waited, her eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“Chaeyeon-ssi…” you started, your voice thick, unsure whether to press further or let the moment carry you forward. But her smile returned, softer now, and she shook her head slightly, as if to dismiss any lingering tension.

“Let’s just focus on this, okay?” she murmured, her voice warm again, guiding you back to the present.

Chaeyeon shifted, her hands braced on your shoulders, her breasts swaying slightly as she positioned herself above you, the heat of her body tantalizingly close.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she lowered herself, guiding your cock to her entrance, and the first contact made you both gasp. The condom was indeed thin, as she’d promised—you felt every inch of her warmth, her tightness enveloping you in a way that sent shivers through your core.

She began to move, riding you with a steady rhythm, her hips rolling with a grace that belied the intensity of the moment. The sensation was overwhelming, the latex barely dulling the slick, intimate heat of her, each thrust drawing you deeper into her.

Her breasts bounced with each motion, their fullness mesmerizing under the sunlight, the faint mole a quiet anchor in the sea of sensation. You groaned, your hands instinctively reaching for her hips, guiding her as she rocked against you, the sofa creaking louder now under the shared weight.

Chaeyeon leaned forward, her breasts hovering just inches from your face, their soft curves swaying tantalizingly close. The invitation was clear, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. Your lips found her breast, kissing the warm skin before taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more hunger.

The taste, the texture—firm yet yielding—was intoxicating, and she moaned softly, her hands tangling in your hair as she pressed herself closer. “Yes, Manajer-nim…” she gasped, her voice breathy, urging you on as her hips continued their relentless rhythm.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping their weight, using them as leverage to match her movements, squeezing in time with her thrusts. The fullness filled your palms, driving you to suck harder, your tongue swirling over her nipple while your fingers teased the other. Her moans grew louder, her ponytail swaying wildly now, her body arching as she rode you faster, the slick sound of your connection mingling with the creak of the sofa.

The condom did little to dull the intensity—you felt every pulse, every clench of her around you, the heat building to a fever pitch. Your lips moved between her breasts, kissing and sucking, your hands gripping them tightly as she drove you both toward another peak. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you groaned against her skin, your voice muffled, lost in the rhythm of her body and the overwhelming pleasure.

She leaned closer still, her breath hot against your ear, her voice a mix of desire and triumph. “You feel so good, Manajer-nim,” she whispered, her hips grinding harder now, pushing you deeper.

Your hands gripped her breast, fingers sinking into their softness, using their weight to match her pace, while your lips and tongue devoured her nipples, drawing soft, breathless moans from her that echoed in the sunlit space.

“Manajer-nim…” Chaeyeon gasped, her voice a sultry mix of need and encouragement, her ponytail whipping wildly as she leaned forward, pressing her breasts closer to your face. Her skin was flushed, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her collarbone, and the scent of her—sweet, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses.

You sucked harder, your tongue swirling over one nipple while your fingers teased the other, pinching lightly, feeling them harden under your touch. Her moans grew sharper, her hips grinding with more urgency, the slick sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the creak of the sofa beneath you.

The intensity was unbearable now, a fire building in your gut as she rode you faster, her movements more desperate, more demanding. You could feel every pulse, every clench of her around you, the thin latex amplifying rather than dulling the heat.

Your hands tightened on her breasts, using them as leverage to thrust upward, meeting her halfway, the collision sending sparks through your body. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you groaned, your voice rough, muffled against her skin as you buried your face between her breasts, kissing and licking the valley between them, lost in their overwhelming fullness.

She arched her back, her hands bracing on your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pushed herself closer to the edge. “Yes, Manajer-nim… like that,” she panted, her voice breaking with each thrust, her hips slamming down harder now, driving you deeper.

You couldn’t get enough, your lips returning to her nipple, sucking with a hunger that matched the frantic rhythm of your bodies, your hands kneading her breasts like they were the only thing grounding you.

The pleasure was a tidal wave, building to a crescendo you couldn’t stop. Your thrusts grew erratic, your hips bucking to meet hers, the sofa groaning under the strain. Chaeyeon’s moans turned into sharp gasps, her body trembling as she chased her own release, her tightness gripping you like a vice.

“Manajer-nim… I’m so close…” she whimpered, her voice raw, her eyes locking onto yours for a fleeting moment, half-lidded and blazing with desire. The sight of her—bare, glistening, lost in the moment—pushed you to the brink.

You thrust upward one last time, hard and deep, your hands squeezing her breasts tightly, your mouth latching onto her nipple with a final, desperate suck.

The climax hit you like a storm, a white-hot surge that tore through you, your cock pulsing inside her as you came, the thin condom capturing your release but doing nothing to dull the intensity. You groaned her name, your voice breaking, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each pulse more powerful than the last.

Chaeyeon gasped, her own release triggered by yours, her body convulsing as she ground down against you, her moans rising into a soft cry that filled the sunlit room. Her breasts pressed against your face, their warmth enveloping you as she rode out her orgasm, her hips slowing but still moving, milking every last moment of pleasure.

You collapsed back against the sofa, your chest heaving, your hands falling to her hips as she slumped against you, her breaths ragged but satisfied. Her breasts rested against your chest, their weight a lingering reminder of what had just happened, and her ponytail tickled your shoulder as she caught her breath. “Manajer-nim…” she murmured, her voice soft now, a mix of exhaustion and contentment, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke.

====================

Your cock, still nestled inside her, softened slowly in the warm, slick aftermath of your shared climax, the thin condom a faint barrier to the lingering heat of her body. Both of you were breathless, your bodies entwined, the sofa creaking faintly under your shared weight as the world seemed to pause in the sunlit haze.

Chaeyeon’s head rested on your shoulder, her ponytail tickling your skin, her breaths slowing as she recovered from the intensity. The quiet intimacy of the moment felt fragile, almost sacred, yet heavy with the weight of what you’d done. You shifted slightly, still inside her, and the movement stirred a question you couldn’t hold back, a mix of curiosity and unease rising to the surface.

“Chaeyeon-ssi,” you murmured, your voice low and hesitant, “are you… going to do this with others? Like the crew, or other managers?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, tinged with a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal, your mind flashing to her earlier confession about surviving in the entertainment world.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Why are you asking that, Manajer-nim?” she replied, her voice soft but curious, a teasing lilt at the edges as she studied you. Her body remained pressed against you, her warmth a constant reminder of the intimacy you’d shared, and the sunlight caught the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, making her seem almost luminous.

You faltered, your throat tightening as you scrambled for an answer, feeling exposed under her gaze. “I-I mean, it’s just… you don’t have to do this with everyone,” you stammered, your words awkward, betraying a concern you hadn’t fully processed. The thought of her with others—crew, managers, anyone—twisted something in your chest, though you couldn’t quite name it.

Chaeyeon’s lips curved into a small, amused smile, and she let out a soft laugh, the sound light and disarming in the quiet room. “Are you jealous, Manajer-nim?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she tilted her head, her ponytail swaying slightly. The question caught you off guard, and you felt your face heat up, the truth of her words hitting closer than you’d expected.

“N-no, I’m not—I just…” you started, stumbling over your words, but before you could finish, Chaeyeon leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a sudden, gentle kiss.

The contact was soft, lingering, a contrast to the raw passion of moments before, and it silenced your protests, leaving your heart racing anew. She pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your lips, her eyes holding yours with a mix of affection and playfulness.

“You’re so cute, Manajer-nim,” she said, her voice warm and teasing, but with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. “If you’re jealous, fine—I won’t do this with anyone else, okay?” Her smile widened, but then her tone shifted, a hint of something more serious beneath the tease. “But… you have to be there for me, yeah? Whenever I need you.” Her words carried a quiet promise, a weight that settled between you, both comforting and daunting.

You swallowed, still reeling from her kiss, her words, the feel of her body against yours. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you murmured, unsure how to respond, your mind torn between the warmth of her offer and the complications it implied.

You shifted, gently but firmly pushing her back until she lay flat on the sofa, her bare torso stretched out beneath you, her ponytail splaying across the cushions. Her eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation.

Your cock slipped free from her as you moved, the condom from your previous climax still clinging to you, filled with the evidence of your release. With a quick, deliberate motion, you peeled it off, discarding it to the side, the act feeling both liberating and reckless.

The sight of her beneath you—bare, vulnerable, glowing—drove you forward, your erection now free and throbbing, ready for another round. You parted her thighs gently, revealing her pussy, still slick and glistening from before, its pink folds inviting under the sunlight, the faint scent of sex and her arousal intoxicating you further.

“Manajer-nim, the condom…” Chaeyeon started, her voice hesitant, a flicker of concern in her eyes as she propped herself up slightly, her breasts shifting with the movement. But you were too far gone, the raw need to feel her without barriers overwhelming any caution. You shook your head, silencing her with a look of quiet determination, and positioned yourself between her legs, the tip of your cock brushing against her entrance.

Without a word, you pushed forward, entering her in one smooth, deep thrust, the sensation of her bare warmth enveloping you like a shockwave. She was tight, slick, and impossibly hot, the absence of the condom making every detail—every pulse, every clench—vivid and raw.

Chaeyeon gasped, her head falling back against the sofa, her hands gripping your arms as you pressed your body closer, sinking deeper until your hips met hers. “Manajer-nim…” she moaned, her voice a mix of surprise and pleasure, her initial concern melting into the rhythm of your movements.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing against her breasts, their fullness soft against you as you began to thrust, slow at first, savoring the unfiltered connection. Your hands found her hips, guiding her to meet each thrust, the sofa creaking louder now under the weight of your urgency. The pleasure was intense, almost primal, driven by her promise and your need to claim this moment, to be the one she turned to.

Her moans grew sharper, her legs wrapping around you, pulling you deeper as she surrendered to the pace. “Yes… Harder” she panted, her voice breaking with each thrust, her breasts bouncing slightly with the motion.

Your hands moved to her breasts, their heavy fullness filling your palms as you gripped them for leverage, squeezing with each thrust, her hardened nipples brushing against your fingers. The sight of them bouncing, the faint mole near her nipple catching the light, fueled your desire, urging you to move faster, harder.

The rhythm grew frantic, your hips slamming against hers, the slick sounds of your bodies echoing in the sunlit room. You leaned forward, your face inches from hers, her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes drawing you in as you fought to speak through the haze of pleasure.

“Chaeyeon-ssi,” you gasped, your voice rough, almost pleading, “please… don’t do this with anyone else.” The words spilled out, raw and unguarded, a reflection of the need to keep her close, to claim this connection as yours alone. Her eyes met yours, wide and intense, and she bit her lower lip, nodding quickly, a silent agreement that sent a surge of heat through you.

Her hands reached up, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasted the ferocity of your movements. “Manajer-nim…” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire, and then she pulled you down, her lips crashing against yours in a deep, hungry kiss.

The taste of her, the softness of her mouth, ignited you further, the intimacy of the position—her breasts pressed against your chest, her hands holding you close—pushing your lust to new heights. Her tongue danced with yours, urgent and needy, as her hips rocked to meet your thrusts, the sofa groaning under the shared intensity.

The pleasure was overwhelming now, a tightening coil in your gut that you couldn’t hold back. “I’m gonna—” you groaned, breaking the kiss, your voice strained as the climax loomed, unstoppable.

Her eyes widened, her hands tightening on your face as she nodded quickly. “Outside, Manajer-nim,” she panted, her voice urgent but soft, guiding you through the haze.

With a final, desperate thrust, you pushed deep, savoring the grip of her body one last time before pulling out, the sensation almost painful in its intensity. Your hand gripped your cock, and the climax hit like a wave, your release erupting in thick, pulsing streams.

The first spurt landed across her face, catching her cheek and lips, and more followed, coating her flushed skin in a glistening mess that covered nearly her entire face—her closed eyes, her parted lips, her chin—far more than you’d expected, the sheer volume a testament to the intensity of the moment.

Chaeyeon gasped softly, her breath hitching as your release marked her, but she didn’t flinch, her hands falling to the sofa as she lay there, panting, her body still trembling from her own peak.

Your chest heaved, your body shuddering as you knelt above her, the aftershocks of pleasure mingling with a rush of awe and guilt. “Chaeyeon-ssi…” you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely audible, as reality crept back in.

The sofa creaked faintly as you caught your breath, the midday light casting long shadows, illuminating the weight of what you’d done.

===================

In the days after that sunlit afternoon in the HAUS, life at tripleS slipped back into routine.

Chaeyeon threw herself into debut preparations, her focus sharp, her laughter bright, as if the intimate moment you shared had been tucked away. Seoyeon, Hyerin and Jiwoo are back from New York and continuing their schedule as member of tripleS for now.

Yet, her fleeting glances during rehearsals—a knowing spark in her eyes—kept the memory alive, stirring both desire and guilt, complicating your role as manager, but Chaeyeon’s quiet promise to rely on you alone held you fast.

As her debut loomed, the sunlight softened, casting long shadows over secrets you both carried, a silent weight beneath the normalcy of the days ahead.