#every single album is ‘never heard of it’

[faebled-stories]

The Echo of Three

Kinkvember Day 22: Cuckolding (Cuckqueen)

Kiss of Life Haneul and Belle x Male reader

AN: A bit later than usual, sorry about that 😅. It’s been a rough day, but I still wanted to make sure I got this out to you all. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Haneul had always had a knack for knowing you better than you knew yourself. She noticed every little thing, from how you liked your coffee—three sugars, a splash of cream—to the way you hummed certain songs under your breath, not even realizing you were doing it. She’d pick up on the subtle shifts in your mood, the tells you didn’t even know you had. But one thing she had picked up on early in your relationship was your admiration for Belle.

Belle. The world-famous soloist with the hauntingly beautiful voice and the kind of stage presence that seemed to demand the world’s attention. Her performances felt intimate despite their grandeur, as though every note was meant for you, even when heard through a screen. You’d always been open about your love for her music, gushing over new albums, replaying live performances late into the night, and casually mentioning how much you’d love to see her in concert someday. It wasn’t just the music; it was her. Something about Belle’s presence—her confidence, her poise, the way she commanded a room with effortless grace—captivated you in a way Haneul couldn’t miss.

At first, Haneul had rolled her eyes. It was cute, she supposed—the way your face lit up when any of Belle’s songs came on, how you’d hum along with an almost reverent smile. But that cuteness came with a faint sting. She couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of jealousy every time Belle’s name slipped into conversation. Belle was glamorous, untouchable, someone who could capture the attention of millions with a single note. How could she not feel overshadowed by that?

But as time went on, those feelings softened. Haneul began to see your admiration for what it was: a harmless celebrity crush, a fantasy so far removed from reality that it didn’t threaten the deep, personal connection you shared. And in truth, the way you talked about Belle was endearing—your unfiltered enthusiasm for her talent, the way your excitement bubbled over whenever she released something new. It made Haneul love you even more, seeing this side of you that was so earnest and unapologetically passionate.

Even when you jokingly added Belle to your “hall pass” list, Haneul had laughed, calling you ridiculous. “Good luck with that,” she’d teased, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. But the idea lingered in her mind, a tiny spark of curiosity that never quite faded. It wasn’t jealousy anymore—it was something else. A mix of playful indulgence and genuine understanding. She wasn’t blind, after all. Even she could see the allure of someone like Belle.

So, when your birthday came around, Haneul knew exactly what to do. She wanted to give you something unforgettable, something that captured not only how much she loved you but how well she knew you.

-----

The faint flicker of candles cast a warm glow across the dimly lit room, the flames dancing in tandem with the soft scent of vanilla cake that filled the air. It mingled with the faint, familiar trace of Haneul’s floral perfume—something light, with a hint of jasmine—that always made you feel at home. Haneul stood across the table, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, her voice lilting gently as she sang “Happy Birthday.” Her tone was playful, teasing on some notes, but there was a warmth to it that made your chest ache in the best way. She wasn’t a professional singer, but to you, her voice was still amazing—especially when it was paired with the way her lips curved into a smile between verses. It made every note feel like it was meant just for you.

“Make a wish,” she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling as the candlelight danced across her face.

You closed your eyes, letting the moment settle over you. The warmth of the candles radiated faintly against your skin, the flickering light behind your eyelids matching the comforting steadiness of Haneul’s presence. The soft hum of her voice still lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a blanket. You took a deep breath, the scent of the cake mingling with the faint jasmine of her perfume, and made your wish: to spend forever with her, your loving girlfriend.

When you opened your eyes, the sight of her was enough to make your heart swell. Haneul, the woman who had brought so much light into your life, who knew you better than anyone else, stood there smiling at you, her expression warm and full of love. The soft flicker of the candles seemed to frame her in golden light, her dark eyes gleaming with the kind of joy that made everything around her feel secondary.

When you exhaled, the candles flickered and went out, the flames vanishing with a quiet whoosh. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, the faint scent of burned wax mixing with the sweetness of the cake. For a moment, the room held its breath, as though even the air itself was savoring the moment. Then Haneul clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and cheerful as she broke the stillness with a bright, playful grin.

“Okay, so…” she said, dragging out the words with a teasing lilt. “Are you going to tell me what you wished for, or do I have to guess?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” you replied, leaning across the table to steal a quick kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, carrying the faint, sugary sweetness of the frosting. “It won’t come true if I do.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” she said with a dramatic sigh, though the playful twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She picked up the cake knife, her movements deliberate and precise as she slid the blade into the frosting. The soft scrape of metal against ceramic filled the room, a small sound amplified by the quiet intimacy of the moment. She nudged a slice onto your plate, sliding it toward you with a smirk. “Here. Try not to inhale it all at once.”

The cake was perfect—soft, moist, with just the right amount of sweetness. Each bite seemed to melt on your tongue, leaving a lingering vanilla warmth. You couldn’t help but glance at her as she served herself a slice, the faint hum of her voice as she worked making your chest ache with quiet gratitude. The flicker of the candles reflected in her dark eyes, adding an almost magical quality to the moment. Everything about her—the curve of her lips, the casual confidence of her movements, the way her presence filled the room—made you feel impossibly lucky.

Haneul had always known exactly how to make you feel loved. But tonight felt different. There was something almost electric in the air, a subtle charge that made the moment feel bigger than it seemed. It wasn’t just the cake or her attention to detail—it was something unspoken, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It felt like anticipation.

As the last crumbs of cake disappeared from your plate, Haneul leaned back in her chair, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in soft waves. The glow of the candles illuminated her profile, catching the mischievous glint in her eyes as she tilted her head, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Alright,” she said, her tone teasing. “Time for phase two.”

“Phase two?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Presents, obviously,” she replied, standing and walking over to the small table near the couch. She moved with an unhurried grace, her hips swaying slightly as she bent down to pick up a small stack of neatly wrapped gifts. Each package was unique—some wrapped in bright, playful patterns, others in muted, elegant tones—all perfectly folded with crisp corners and tied with coordinating ribbons. She carried them over with a sense of ceremony, setting them down in front of you with a flourish.

“Wait, all of these are for me?” you asked, eyeing the stack with mock suspicion. “What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Well, you did turn another year older,” she teased, sliding the first box toward you with a playful smirk. “And I guess you’ve been tolerable enough this year.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you picked up the first package. It was small and rectangular, wrapped in bright green paper that shimmered faintly under the soft light. You tore it open carefully, your fingers brushing against the smooth paper as you revealed a leather-bound journal with gilded edges. The leather was soft to the touch, its scent of fresh material mingling with the lingering sweetness of the cake. As you opened it, the faint smell of clean, unused paper reached you, a quiet promise of possibility. On the first page, written in her familiar handwriting, was a note: For all the dreams we haven’t dreamed yet.

You looked up at her, the weight of the gesture settling over you like a warm blanket. “This is beautiful, Haneul. Thank you.”

She shrugged, though the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her pride. “I just thought… you’re always talking about ideas, so now you’ll have somewhere to put them.”

The next gift was smaller, wrapped in silver paper that gleamed in the candlelight. Inside, you found a sleek pair of wireless earbuds. The polished surface caught the light as you held them up, and you couldn’t help but grin. “I figured these might come in handy,” she said, leaning her chin on her hand with a mischievous look. “You know, for drowning me out when I nag you.”

You laughed, holding them up to inspect them. “Or for listening to music on those walks you’re always making me take.”

“Exactly,” she replied, her tone light but affectionate.

The final small package was the most understated of the three, wrapped in soft cream-colored paper tied with a delicate ribbon. Inside, nestled in a velvet box, was a simple chain bracelet. It gleamed subtly under the flickering light, its design understated but elegant—exactly your style. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your wrist as she leaned forward to fasten it. Her touch was warm, her focus intent as she secured the clasp with care.

“For luck,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She sat back, her eyes studying your face as you admired it. “It’s simple, but I thought it’d suit you.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice quiet as you looked up at her. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Haneul. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her smile widened, a mix of pride and playfulness lighting her face as she leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry,” she said breezily, waving a hand. “I’m not done yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Not done?”

She laughed, the sound light and teasing, as she stood and walked back toward the couch. This time, she returned with a sleek white envelope in her hand. The paper was pristine, the edges sharp, as though it had been carefully guarded. The faint rustle of the envelope in her hands seemed amplified in the quiet room, building the anticipation swirling in your chest. She set it down in front of you with a flourish, her grin widening in a way that made your heart race.

“This,” she said, tapping the envelope with her finger, “is the real present.”

Your heart skipped as you reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly. The paper felt smooth and crisp under your fingertips, the slight weight of the contents inside making your pulse quicken. You broke the seal, the faint sound of tearing paper almost echoing in the stillness, and pulled out the contents. Two glossy concert tickets gleamed in your hands, the bold, stylized name Belle printed across them in her signature font. The logo glittered faintly in the light, catching your eye like it had been designed just for this moment. Beneath the tickets was a smaller slip of paper, gilded with gold. The words BACKSTAGE ACCESS were embossed in elegant, raised lettering.

For a moment, the words didn’t register. You stared at the tickets, your mind slowly piecing together what they meant. It was like trying to solve a puzzle while your heart pounded in your chest, the pieces clicking into place one by one. “No way,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat. “Is this…? Did you…?”

Haneul grinned, her dark eyes dancing as she leaned her chin on her hand. “You’re going to see her live. Front row seats. And after the concert, you get to meet her.”

You blinked, the reality of her words crashing over you like a wave. The world around you seemed to tilt, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the tickets in your hands, the weight of them feeling almost surreal. “Haneul, I—this is—” Your voice faltered as your emotions welled up, a knot forming in your throat. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Well,” she teased, standing and walking over to your side, her tone as casual as if she’d just handed you socks. “You could start by not crying.”

“I’m not crying,” you muttered, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Your vision blurred slightly, and you quickly set the tickets down before pulling her into a tight hug. Her body was warm and solid against yours, grounding you as you buried your face in her hair. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Seriously. This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

She laughed softly, her arms wrapping around you with a reassuring squeeze. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her voice soft against your ear. “I figured it was about time you got to see your celebrity crush in person.”

You groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her, though the smile on your face betrayed your exasperation. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she replied, her grin widening, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Besides, I want to see if she lives up to the hype.”

The two of you laughed together, the weight of the moment giving way to an electric sense of anticipation. The tickets sat on the table, gleaming in the candlelight, a tangible reminder of what awaited you tomorrow. Finally, you’d see Belle live—an experience you’d dreamed about for years. And thanks to Haneul, it was going to be even more unforgettable than you could have imagined.

-----

The concert is electric, the kind of performance that leaves the air humming with energy long after the final note fades. Belle’s stage presence is commanding, magnetic, as though the entire venue bends to her will. Her voice carries through the space like a force of nature—raw, powerful, yet impossibly intimate. Each note seems to wrap around you, as though meant for you alone. The stage lights flare and dim with every shift in tempo, casting her in a glow that feels almost ethereal. You’re completely enraptured, caught in the pull of her undeniable charisma.

But what surprises you most isn’t your own reaction—it’s Haneul’s. She’s usually composed, steady, the picture of quiet confidence. Yet tonight, there’s something different in her demeanor. She watches Belle with an intensity you rarely see, her dark eyes following the singer’s every movement. There’s a tinge of admiration in her expression, subtle but unmistakable, and it catches you off guard. You notice the way her lips part slightly during a particularly sultry note, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she leans forward in her seat, as though caught in the same spell that has ensnared you.

By the time the concert ends and you head backstage, a shared excitement buzzes between you. It’s an unspoken thing, lingering in the quickened pace of your steps, the faint blush on your cheeks when Haneul glances at you with a knowing smile. The backstage area feels quieter than you expected, the air still charged with the energy of the performance. The faint roar of the departing crowd filters through the walls, a distant echo of the electricity that filled the arena moments ago. Overhead lights cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of sweat and faintly floral perfume lingers in the air like a reminder of Belle’s presence.

And then there she is.

Belle is as radiant up close as she was on stage, her charisma somehow even more potent in the intimate glow of the backstage lounge. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose, slightly tousled style, a few strands falling artfully across her face. The soft sheen of sweat on her skin catches the light, making her look both human and larger than life, her beauty almost surreal. She’s dressed casually now, in a loose-fitting top that clings in just the right places and snug jeans that highlight her long legs, but she wears them with the kind of effortless grace that makes them feel like a designer ensemble.

Her laughter fills the room like music, light and genuine, a perfect counterpoint to the quiet hum of post-performance energy still lingering in the air. She moves with an easy elegance, her gestures fluid as she pours drinks and chats with her team. But as you step into her orbit, her attention shifts.

Her gaze lands squarely on you, and suddenly, it feels like the room has shrunk. Her eyes are sharp, focused, as though she’s appraising you in a way that makes your chest tighten. She tilts her head slightly, her smile widening into something teasing yet calculated. "So," she begins, her voice carrying that same sultry edge you’d heard on stage, "you’re the big fan, huh?"

The words hit you like a spotlight, and your heart stutters in your chest. Her attention is magnetic, pinning you in place as your mind scrambles for a coherent response. "Uh…" You struggle to form words, your throat inexplicably dry. "Y-yeah," you manage after a beat, your face flushing under her scrutiny. "You were… incredible."

Belle’s laughter spills from her lips, soft and teasing, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she steps just a little closer. "Incredible?" she repeats, her tone lilting as though savoring the word. "I’ll take that." She lets the pause linger, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, sharper this time, like she’s testing your limits. "Though you look like you weren’t expecting me to be that good."

Her hand brushes your arm lightly, a fleeting touch that somehow feels deliberate, calculated to send a jolt of nervous energy through you. Her fingers are warm against your skin, leaving a faint trace of heat that lingers even after she pulls back. "Relax," she says, her voice playful but carrying an undertone that’s far more suggestive. "I don’t bite." She lets her smile linger for a beat before adding with a low laugh, "Not unless I’m invited."

The air between you shifts, growing thicker, charged. Her proximity makes it hard to focus on anything else, her perfume—soft with a faint musky undertone—wrapping around you like a net. Your hands twitch slightly at your sides, your mind racing with a mix of awe and nervousness. You glance toward Haneul, desperate for some kind of grounding, but what you find isn’t exactly what you were hoping for.

Haneul is sitting nearby, watching the exchange with a quiet smile that gives away nothing. There’s a glimmer of amusement in her expression, but beneath that, something else—something curious, almost approving. When she notices your panicked glance, her grin deepens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if silently telling you to keep going.

You’re about to stammer out another awkward attempt at conversation when Haneul decides to step in. "He’s more than a fan," she teases, her voice light but purposeful as she rises from her seat. She walks up beside you, slipping an arm around your waist in a way that feels both comforting and mischievous. "You should’ve seen him watching you tonight," she continues, her tone dripping with playful exaggeration. "I thought he was going to pass out at one point."

"Haneul!" you hiss, your cheeks burning with fresh embarrassment as you glance at her, your wide eyes begging her to stop.

Belle chuckles, clearly entertained by the dynamic. "Oh, really?" she asks, her smile widening as her gaze flicks back to you. "Well, I guess I made an impression."

"He couldn’t stop talking about you for weeks after I got these tickets," Haneul adds, clearly enjoying herself now. She looks up at you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He even practiced what he’d say if he ever got the chance to meet you. Something about wanting to thank you for inspiring him?"

Your hands fly up in protest. "I did not!" you protest, your voice cracking slightly, but your flushed cheeks betray you. You glance at Belle, who’s watching the exchange with open amusement, her eyes alight with curiosity.

"Don’t worry," Haneul says, patting your chest as though to reassure you. "I think it’s cute." She looks back at Belle, her grin softening slightly. "He’s been looking forward to this for a long time."

Belle’s expression shifts slightly, her teasing smirk taking on a hint of warmth as she studies you. "You’ve got a good one," she says to Haneul, nodding toward you. There’s a flicker of something sly in her expression as she adds, "If he weren’t taken, I’d probably have jumped on him by now."

Her words land with a weight that seems to linger in the air, bold and unapologetic, resonating like the echo of a drumbeat. Your blush deepens, creeping to the tips of your ears as your pulse quickens under the intensity of her gaze. You try to respond—to say something clever, to deflect—but the words tangle in your throat, refusing to form. The tension in the room presses against you, thick and tangible, like a storm waiting to break.

Haneul’s calm voice cuts through the charged air, steady and deliberate.

"Is that so?" she says, her tone light but deliberate. Her head tilts slightly, her gaze steady as she looks at Belle. There’s a confidence in her voice that you don’t expect, a calmness that feels deliberate. "What’s stopping you?"

Belle’s eyebrows shoot up, her usual confidence flickering as surprise flashes across her face. "Wait, are you serious?" she asks, her voice a mix of laughter and disbelief. Her eyes dart between you and Haneul, searching for any sign of a joke.

Haneul pauses, the weight of her words settling over her as Belle’s question lingers in the air. Her calm exterior belies the storm of thoughts rushing through her mind. The idea—watching you with Belle, this untouchable, magnetic performer she’d admired from afar—felt like it should spark jealousy, like it should tighten in her chest in that all-too-familiar way. And there was a flicker of it, faint and fleeting, but what surprised her more was everything else.

Excitement. Thrill. A low, unexpected hum of arousal that made her breath catch for just a second. It struck her as strange, almost absurd, but she couldn’t deny the way her pulse quickened at the thought. She could picture it so vividly—your hands on Belle, the way you’d look at her with that same hungry intensity that sometimes set her own body aflame. It made her stomach twist in a way that was as exhilarating as it was unsettling.

Her gaze flicks to you, catching the uncertainty in your expression, the way your shoulders are just slightly tense as though you’re waiting for her to pull back. But she doesn’t. Instead, she shrugs, her lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile. Her voice is steady when she speaks, but there’s a softness beneath it, a quiet acceptance of the strange mix of emotions surging through her. "I mean, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at him." Her gaze softens slightly, her eyes flickering to you as though grounding herself. "And honestly…" She pauses, her voice lowering just enough to draw Belle’s full attention. "The idea isn’t as crazy as you might think."

Her words send a rush of heat through you—confusion, excitement, and something else that twists low in your stomach. You glance between Haneul and Belle, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all. The silence that follows feels alive, buzzing with possibility.

Belle leans back slightly, her lips parting as she processes Haneul’s words. She looks between you and Haneul, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Well," she murmurs, stepping closer to you, "if the lady insists… who am I to say no?"

Haneul lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks faintly flushed. Despite her calm exterior, you can see it now—the rush of excitement sparking behind her eyes, the slight rise and fall of her chest as though she’s steadying herself. She glances at you again, her gaze warm but charged, and you realize this isn’t just about Belle. It’s about you. About the thrill of watching something unfold that neither of you had planned but both of you are suddenly open to.

Her hands brush against yours, her touch light yet deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. She leans in closer, her lips hovering near yours. "Are you okay with this?" she whispers, her voice low and inviting, her breath warm against your skin.

Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you can’t find your voice. You glance at Haneul, who is sitting on the couch, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. She nods encouragingly, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. Her reassurance steadies you, and you turn back to Belle, nodding softly.

With your consent, Belle closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, her movements confident and commanding. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before, and it leaves you breathless. Her hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue teasing yours in a way that makes your knees feel weak.

As the moment stretches, Belle pulls back slightly, her breath mingling with yours. "Why don’t we make this a little more private?" she murmurs, her tone sultry yet casual, as though it’s the most natural suggestion in the world.

Haneul rises from the couch, her movements slow but deliberate, her gaze locked onto yours. There’s a shared understanding between the three of you now, an unspoken agreement as Belle gestures toward a door in the back corner of the room. Her hand slides into yours as she leads you both toward it, her touch firm and steady, her confidence pulling you forward.

The room you enter is dimly lit, with a plush couch in the center and soft, ambient lighting casting warm shadows across the walls. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the three of you in a space that feels intimate, almost sacred. Belle turns to face you both, her smirk softening into something more inviting as she steps closer, her movements fluid and deliberate.

"Now," she says, her voice dropping lower, her gaze flicking between you and Haneul, "where were we?"

The weight of the room’s privacy settles over you, amplifying every glance, every touch, every unspoken word. Haneul steps closer, her hand finding yours as her other rests lightly on your arm. She glances at Belle, her cheeks still flushed, her expression open and eager. The anticipation in the room is electric, the boundaries between the three of you dissolving as the night takes its next step.

You can’t help but glance at Haneul again, seeking her reassurance even as Belle consumes your focus. Haneul’s eyes meet yours, her expression calm but undeniably aroused. She nods again, her lips curling into a small smile, as if to remind you that she’s there, fully supportive, fully in control.

Belle pulls back slightly, her lips brushing against your jaw as she murmurs, "Relax. You’re doing fine." Her hands begin to explore, slipping beneath your shirt, her touch warm and deliberate. One by one, pieces of clothing fall away—yours and hers—until you’re left stunned, standing before her.

Your breath catches as your gaze roams over Belle’s bare skin. She’s everything you’ve admired for so long: radiant, confident, and breathtakingly real. For years, she’s been a distant fantasy, a figure on a screen or in your headphones, and now she’s here, naked before you. You’re too stunned to move, your eyes wide, your body frozen in awe.

Belle notices your reaction and smiles, her confidence unwavering as her eyes sweep over you. Her gaze flickers downward briefly, pausing, and a subtle shift in her expression betrays her thoughts—her smile widening slightly, her brows lifting just enough to suggest admiration. When her gaze returns to your face, there’s a flicker of something playful and knowing in her eyes, the kind of look that makes your chest tighten.

She glances toward Haneul, who is still seated on the couch, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and arousal. Belle tilts her head slightly, giving Haneul a knowing glance—a silent, almost conspiratorial expression that says without words: You’re a lucky girl.

Belle takes your hand and guides you to the couch, her touch firm yet unhurried, every movement exuding confidence. She nudges you to sit, her eyes locked on yours with a smirk that sends a thrill through you. Her graceful form lowers between your legs, her movements deliberate as she kneels. "Let’s see how much you can handle," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, every word dripping with intent.

Your breath catches sharply as her hand wraps around your length, her touch warm and deliberate. Her fingers glide over you with practiced precision, each motion sending ripples of sensation up your spine. The faint trace of her perfume—subtle and musky—lingers in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. A soft gasp escapes your lips, unbidden, as her grip tightens just slightly, perfectly calibrated to draw the first hint of tension from deep within you. Belle doesn’t rush; her eyes flick upward, locking with yours, and for a moment, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. Her gaze is intent, assessing, drinking in every shift in your expression. The faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips, a quiet show of confidence, before she leans forward, parting them to envelop you in her warm, wet mouth.

The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, a rush of heat and pressure that leaves you breathless. Her tongue moves with deliberate skill, teasing and exploring as it swirls along your length. The contrast between the firm seal of her lips and the soft, wet heat of her tongue is electrifying, sending shivers coursing through your body. Your fingers instinctively grip the edge of the couch as you try to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Each flick of her tongue against the sensitive underside of your tip feels impossibly precise, perfectly tuned to unravel you. Her movements are controlled, calculated, and maddeningly slow, as though she’s savoring every moment—and daring you to do the same.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Haneul shifting on the couch. At first, her gaze is fixed on Belle, her dark eyes following the rhythm of her movements with a mix of fascination and intrigue. Her chest rises and falls steadily, though her breath catches ever so slightly when Belle’s head dips lower, taking you deeper. The faint flush on her cheeks deepens as she watches, her lips parting subtly as if to echo your own shaky breaths. But soon, her attention drifts upward—to you.

Haneul’s eyes widen slightly as they meet your face, and her breath hitches as she takes in the rawness of your expression. Your head tilted back, your jaw slack, every part of you consumed by the sensations Belle is drawing from you. There’s a hunger in your gaze, an unguarded intensity she’s rarely seen, and it sends a wave of heat coursing through her. Her thighs press tightly together, her own arousal building as she drinks in every detail: the faint sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the tension in your arms as you grip the couch for stability, the way your lips part with soft, uneven breaths. It’s as if she’s seeing a side of you she never has before, and the sight ignites something deep and primal within her.

Belle’s pace shifts, the languid rhythm giving way to something more insistent. Her lips slide along your length with increasing fervor, her tongue teasing you mercilessly. The slick sounds of her movements fill the room, mingling with the soft gasps escaping your lips. Her hand joins the effort, stroking you in perfect sync with her mouth, her touch firm yet tantalizingly smooth. Each stroke feels like a deliberate test, designed to push you closer to the edge. Your breathing grows ragged, shallow inhales interspersed with low groans that you can’t suppress.

You glance down at Belle, and the sight alone nearly undoes you. Her dark eyes are locked onto yours, gleaming with satisfaction and something deeper—possessive, teasing, utterly confident. Even as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing with effort, her lips curl into a subtle smirk, the look of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. Her tongue flicks against the most sensitive spots with maddening precision, each motion sending jolts of electricity racing through your core.

Behind her, Haneul’s gaze is transfixed. Her breathing quickens, her chest rising and falling with visible urgency as she watches you unravel. One hand rests against her thigh, trembling slightly, while the other lingers near her folds, her fingers twitching as though tempted to join the intensity surrounding her. Her lips part slightly, soft sounds escaping her as her arousal mirrors your own, her body responding to the raw display of pleasure before her.

Belle’s rhythm intensifies, her mouth and hand working together in perfect tandem. The wet heat of her lips contrasts with the firm, deliberate strokes of her hand, the combination almost unbearable. Your fingers dig into the couch, your body tense and coiled like a spring as the fire in your stomach builds. A deep groan escapes you, raw and unrestrained, echoing in the room as Belle’s relentless pace pushes you closer to the brink.

Haneul’s eyes remain locked on you, her own breathing quickening as she watches the moment unfold. The sight of you trembling, completely lost in the force of your climax, sends a jolt of heat straight through her. She feels her thighs press together involuntarily, a rush of slick arousal pooling between her legs as her own body responds to the rawness of the scene. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, her fingers curling against her thighs as she watches, captivated and overwhelmed by how unrestrained you’ve become.

Belle pulls back slightly just as you reach your peak, her hand stroking you with firm, deliberate movements. Your release comes in hot, thick waves, spilling across her lips and cheeks with startling intensity. Belle tilts her head slightly, her mouth parting as she lets the remnants land on her tongue, the streaks of your climax glistening against her skin. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, her expression one of pure satisfaction. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth as she slowly drags her tongue along her lips, savoring every drop.

Haneul lets out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp, her body reacting before her mind can fully catch up. Her thighs shift, a faint ache blooming between them as she feels a flush spread across her chest. The sight of you—completely undone, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath—is impossibly arousing. And Belle, kneeling there with your release dripping down her face, wearing it with an unapologetic confidence that makes her look even more untouchable—it’s almost too much.

Belle meets your gaze, her smirk deepening as she licks one final drop from her lower lip. "Not bad," she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. Her fingers trail down your thigh briefly, a playful reminder of the control she wielded just moments ago.

Haneul’s breath hitches as her eyes dart between you and Belle, her own arousal impossible to ignore now. The heat, the tension, the sheer audacity of the moment—it all swirls together, leaving her both awestruck and deeply, undeniably turned on.

Belle leans back slightly, her gaze flickering toward Haneul, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "I think he enjoyed that," she says, her voice smooth, teasing, and dripping with satisfaction. Her eyes flick briefly to you, then back to Haneul, as though gauging her reaction. Haneul doesn’t respond immediately, her breath shallow, caught up in the rush of her own thoughts. Her heart races as the moment lingers, a strange thrill mingling with the heat coursing through her body.

Belle rises with fluid grace, moving to the couch. Every step is deliberate, each motion exuding a confidence that seems to fill the room. She sits on the side, reclining back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, confidently, as she positions herself. Her bare skin glows faintly under the dim light, every curve and line of her body sculpted as though by an artist’s hand. Her poise is magnetic, her gaze unwavering as she locks eyes with you.

You stand there for a moment, frozen. Your breath catches as the surreal nature of the scene washes over you in waves. Belle, the woman you’d admired for so long, was waiting for you, her body open and inviting, her smirk daring you to act.

Noticing your hesitation, Belle’s smirk softens slightly, something warmer flashing in her expression. "Come here," she murmurs, her voice low and velvety, carrying an unspoken command that sends a shiver down your spine. The authority in her tone leaves no room for doubt, yet there’s a tenderness beneath it, an acknowledgment of your hesitation.

You move toward her, your legs feeling heavy as your heart pounds in your chest. Kneeling between her legs, you look up, meeting her gaze as her dark eyes bore into yours. She’s utterly in control, even as she spreads herself before you, her confidence radiating in every deliberate movement. For a moment, you almost blank out, staring at her with wide eyes, overwhelmed by the reality of it all. Belle, this untouchable goddess of a performer, was here, her legs open, waiting for you. The thought leaves you dizzy, your breaths shallow as you try to ground yourself.

You lean in slowly, your breath brushing against her skin as the faint, intoxicating scent of her arousal fills your senses. It sharpens the edge of your nerves, each detail of her more vivid than the last: the glisten of her skin, the subtle quiver of her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her chest. You hover there, so close and yet frozen, as though one wrong move might shatter the spell. The surreal nature of the moment presses down on you, leaving you suspended in sensory overload.

Belle notices immediately. Without hesitation, her hand shoots out, her fingers tangling in your hair with a firm, possessive grip. She pulls your head forward with deliberate force, pressing your lips firmly against her folds. The suddenness of the gesture snaps you out of your trance, the taste and warmth of her flooding your senses as she holds you there.

Her hand lingers, her fingers tightening slightly as if to make sure you’re fully engaged before releasing you. The soft vibration of her moan travels through her body, pulling something primal from deep within you. Instinct takes over, and your lips begin to move against her, brushing tentatively at first. Your movements are slow and deliberate, each stroke of your tongue light and exploratory, as though savoring the taste of something rare and exquisite.

Belle’s moan deepens, her voice low and unrestrained, a sound so intimate and raw it sends a jolt through you. Your member twitches at the sound, your arousal building with each note she releases. Encouraged, you grow bolder, each movement of your tongue more confident, more deliberate. You start slow, savoring every inch of her, your strokes measured and intentional as if this were a feast meant to be lingered over. The warmth of her, the way she reacts to each flick and swirl of your tongue, is utterly intoxicating.

Belle’s hands grip the armrest behind her as her head tilts back. Her breathing grows heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with your movements. The soft, melodic sounds she makes pull you deeper into the moment, every moan spurring you to explore more, to find new ways to make her lose herself.

Her thighs tremble faintly under your touch, and you steady her, your hands moving to her hips to keep her in place. Her soft gasps grow louder, her voice dipping into raw, unguarded cries of pleasure. You press closer, your confidence mounting as you lose yourself in the rhythm of her body, every sound she makes driving you further.

Belle’s back arches slightly, her breathing quickening as your tongue swirls around her sensitive nub before dipping lower to tease her entrance. The way she reacts—her hips shifting toward you, the way her fingers grip tighter against the couch—sends a fresh wave of desire surging through you. You keep going, pulling every ounce of pleasure from her as her soft cries fill the room, each one a melody more beautiful than the last.

With each moan, your confidence builds, the initial hesitation melting away. Soon, your movements grow less restrained, driven by an almost primal need to pull more from her, to hear her voice climb higher. You press your tongue more firmly against her, each stroke hungrier, more desperate. The desire to make her lose herself completely consumes you, fueling every motion. You focus intently on the way her body responds—the slight tremble in her thighs, the way her hips instinctively shift toward you, chasing every sensation.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Haneul shifting on the couch. Her breathing has deepened, the subtle hitch in each exhale betraying her growing arousal. When you glance briefly in her direction, your heart skips. Her thighs are pressed tightly together, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with heat. Her dark eyes are locked on you, a mix of fascination and hunger, drawn to the intensity with which you’re worshiping Belle. The sight of you so consumed, so eager, is clearly affecting her.

The realization sends a thrill through you, but you return your focus to Belle, determined to elicit even more from her. Each movement of your tongue becomes calculated yet frantic, teasing the edges of her folds before delving inside. You savor the way her body reacts, the faint shudder that ripples through her as you alternate between swirling around her entrance and flicking lightly against her clit. Every motion pulls another sound from her lips, a fresh wave of breathy, unrestrained moans that fill the room like music.

Your hands grip her thighs to steady yourself, your fingers digging into the soft flesh as you hold her open. When her legs begin to tremble, instinctively trying to close against the overwhelming sensations, you tighten your hold, refusing to let her escape the intensity. Belle’s moans grow louder, her voice breaking into gasps as her back arches, her hands gripping the couch tightly. The usual control she carries so effortlessly is unraveling before you, every sound she makes spurring you on.

From behind you comes a soft gasp, breaking through the haze of your focus. You pause, turning your head slightly, and your breath catches. Haneul is completely naked now, her clothes discarded and forgotten in the growing pile on the floor. Her hands move over her body, one slipping between her thighs, her fingers working rhythmically as she watches. Her gaze is locked on you and Belle, but there’s something deeper in her eyes—a connection that pulls you back toward her every time. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, her expression a mix of arousal and admiration.

The sight of her—the way she’s looking at you, her body glistening in the low light—ignites something even hotter inside you. As much as you want Belle, as consuming as this moment is, Haneul’s presence grounds you, intensifies your desire. You turn back to Belle, your determination redoubled. If this was your moment to impress, to give them both something unforgettable, you weren’t going to hold back.

Your attention zeroes in on Belle’s clit now, your tongue moving with rapid precision against the sensitive nub. Each flick and press earns you a sharper gasp, a louder moan. Her hips buck against you, her movements desperate as her body chases the pleasure you’re giving her. Your hands hold her legs firmly in place, spreading her wider, ensuring she can’t escape the onslaught of sensation. Belle’s cries grow louder, her usual poise dissolving into pure, unrestrained pleasure.

"Don’t stop," she gasps, her voice high and trembling, her chest heaving with every word. Her fingers dig into the couch, her thighs quivering beneath your grasp as she teeters on the edge. You don’t relent. Your tongue is relentless, teasing and pressing and flicking with a rhythm that drives her higher and higher. Her legs strain against your arms, her muscles taut, but you hold her open, refusing to let her pull away from the intensity.

Belle’s climax builds rapidly, her moans turning into sharp cries as her body begins to quake. You can feel it—the way her thighs tighten, her hips jerk involuntarily, her entire body preparing for release. When it hits, it’s like an explosion. Her voice breaks into a loud, unabashed cry as her back arches, her fingers clutching the couch for dear life.

A sudden rush of liquid warmth drenches your face and chest, Belle’s release coming in an overwhelming wave. It’s powerful, unexpected, and utterly intoxicating. The sharp, heady scent of her arousal fills the air, thick and unmistakable, as her body jerks uncontrollably beneath your grip. You pause for a heartbeat, stunned by the rawness of the moment, the sheer force of her climax leaving her trembling violently. Her soft whimpers fill the air, each one high-pitched and shaky as the last waves of pleasure crash through her. Her thighs quiver, her knees giving out completely, and the tension in her frame melts into exhausted surrender as she slumps forward, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Behind you, Haneul lets out a choked cry, her voice breaking with the intensity of her own release. You turn your head just in time to see her arch back, her body taut as if caught in the grip of something uncontrollable. Her hand moves frantically between her legs, her fingers glistening with her arousal as her hips buck against her touch. Her thighs clamp together momentarily, her movements erratic as her climax overtakes her with full force.

Her moans are raw and unrestrained, filling the room as her body trembles violently. Her free hand grips the edge of the couch. She fights to keep herself grounded, but her body betrays her—every muscle quakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods her senses. A sudden gush of her release escapes, slicking her thighs and pooling beneath her, the scent mingling with Belle’s and creating an intoxicating blend of musk that saturates the air.

Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, broken moan escapes her lips. Her entire body shudders as the peak finally crests, leaving her slumped against the couch, her chest heaving and her skin glistening with sweat. Her cries mix with Belle’s lingering whimpers, creating a shared symphony of pleasure that echoes off the walls, binding the three of you in the raw, primal intensity of the moment.

The air feels heavy now, thick with the scent of release and the echoes of your shared sounds. The moment stretches endlessly, each of you caught in the lingering aftershocks, bound together by the raw intimacy of it all. Belle reclines against the couch, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, her body still trembling faintly from the intensity of her climax.

Her gaze flickers to Haneul, who is slumped back on the couch, her flushed skin glistening in the dim light. Haneul’s breaths come in shallow gasps, her body visibly relaxed yet humming with the residual heat of her release. Their eyes meet briefly, a shared look passing between them—something unspoken, an acknowledgment of the rawness and beauty of the moment they’ve just shared. Belle’s lips curl into a faint smile, her confidence glowing in the aftermath, and Haneul mirrors it with a soft, breathless laugh.

As Belle’s gaze shifts, it lands on you, still kneeling between her legs. Her eyes drop slightly, taking in your form, and then lower still. She notices your member, back at full strength, glistening faintly with a mix of exertion and her previous attentions. A mischievous spark lights in her eyes as an idea begins to form. She straightens slightly, her body language shifting back into one of command, her movements deliberate and poised. Her gaze flickers between you and Haneul, her lips curling into a smirk.

"Alright," she murmurs, her voice low and commanding. Her eyes lock onto Haneul with an air of playful authority. "Haneul, lie down for me—right here."

She gestures to the space where she had just been, the fabric still warm and damp from her release. Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours, seeking silent reassurance. When you nod, she mirrors the gesture, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks as she moves to the couch. There’s a nervous grace in the way she positions herself, her movements tentative but unresisting. She leans back against the armrest, her legs spreading slowly, exposing folds already glistening with arousal. Her breathing quickens, and her gaze alternates between you and Belle, anticipation written across her face.

Belle shifts to the opposite end of the couch, bending over the armrest so she’s facing Haneul. The position stretches her body out provocatively, her curves taut and inviting, her flushed, sweat-slicked skin catching the light in a way that makes her look almost otherworldly. Despite her disheveled state, her smirk remains confident, teasing, as if she were still performing. She lifts her head slightly, her eyes locking onto you as she gestures with a lazy wave of her fingers. "Behind me," she says, her tone firm but laced with playful authority. "Let’s make sure your girlfriend has the best seat in the house."

Your breath hitches as you step forward, positioning yourself behind Belle. From this angle, the sight before you is almost too much to take in—Haneul reclining in front of you, her flushed face framed by her tousled hair, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her legs remain spread, her folds pulsing faintly as her fingers move over herself in slow, deliberate circles. Then there’s Belle, bent over in front of you, her body radiating heat, her hips tilting slightly to give you better access. The combination—the contrast of Belle’s commanding confidence and Haneul’s vulnerable allure—sends a rush of heat surging through you.

You guide yourself to Belle’s entrance, your tip brushing against her warm, slick folds. The sensation is immediate, electrifying, and for a moment, you falter, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Belle lets out a low hum of approval, her body shifting back toward you in encouragement, the motion subtle but unmistakable. She glances back at you with a smirk, her gaze equal parts amused and urging, her confidence pulling you forward.

Taking a steadying breath, you press forward, easing yourself inside her with slow, deliberate movements. The first push is exquisite, her tight warmth enveloping you inch by inch. Belle’s breath catches, her soft gasp breaking into a low moan as you stretch her. Her fingers clutch at the armrest, her knuckles whitening briefly as she adjusts to your size. The sound sends shivers down your spine, the rawness of it matching the tension coiling in your body. She exhales shakily, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. "There we go," she murmurs, her tone teasing but edged with need.

Your eyes flick instinctively toward Haneul, seeking reassurance in this surreal moment. She’s watching intently, her lips parted as her chest rises and falls in rhythm with her quickening breaths. Her hand moves boldly now, her fingers gliding against her folds as her arousal heightens. The wet sounds of her pleasure mingle with Belle’s breathy moans, creating a symphony of desire that fuels your movements.

You start with a slow, measured rhythm, your thrusts deliberate as you focus on the way Belle responds. Her body moves with yours, her hips rolling back to meet each motion, a soft hum escaping her lips with every push. The grip of her walls around you is overwhelming, each stroke building the tension higher. Your hands grip her hips firmly, grounding yourself as the moment threatens to sweep you away.

But it’s Haneul’s gaze that keeps drawing you back. Her heavy-lidded eyes flicker between your face and where your body connects with Belle, her expression a mix of awe and unfiltered arousal. Her fingers quicken between her thighs, her soft, breathy sounds spurring you on. The sight of her like this—completely enthralled, her body trembling as she watches—is almost enough to undo you.

Belle shifts beneath you, her movements growing more insistent. Her body rocks with your rhythm, her back arching slightly as she pushes against you, trying to match your thrusts. The soft, slick sounds of your connection fill the room, each movement drawing a quiet gasp or low moan from her lips. But it’s not enough. Her hips press back harder, meeting yours in a way that makes your breath hitch, her determination to draw more from you undeniable.

She turns her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder. There’s a heat in her gaze, a challenge sparking behind it that sends shivers through you. "Faster," she murmurs, her voice breathy but commanding, every word dripping with need. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she adds, "Harder." The words land with weight, her tone tinged with expectation, daring you to give her everything she’s asking for. The tension coils tighter in your chest, and you feel the pulse of heat shoot straight through you.

You adjust your rhythm, your hips driving forward with more force. Each thrust sends a jolt through Belle’s body, her gasps turning into louder, more desperate cries as her hands clutch the armrest for support as she braces herself, her back arching deeper with every movement. But Belle isn’t content to let you take full control. Her hips grind backward into you, the motion deliberate and hungry as she matches your pace. The sheer effortlessness of her movements, the way she works her body to meet yours, leaves you breathless.

Her moans grow louder, more frantic, as the intensity builds. Her legs tremble beneath her, her knees shifting against the floor as she struggles to maintain her balance. Her hips buck against you, her movements urging you to go deeper, harder, her body demanding more. The force of each thrust pushes her against the edge of the couch, her body pressed firmly into the armrest. The soft fabric does little to muffle the sound of her cries as they rise higher, turning into sharp, high-pitched whimpers with every deep stroke.

But something still holds you back—a faint hesitation lingering in the back of your mind, the weight of the moment pressing on you. Your gaze flickers toward Haneul, seeking her grounding presence, and the sight of her makes your breath catch.

Her eyes glisten with arousal, her gaze flickering between your face and the way your body moves with Belle. Her chest heaves with every breath, her own arousal climbing as her fingers work with increasing urgency. Her thighs tremble, her movements growing bolder as she watches you, completely lost in the rhythm you’ve created. When she notices the slight falter in your thrusts, her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile.

"Give her everything, baby," Haneul whispers, her voice trembling but full of certainty. Her words carry no jealousy, only a quiet thrill, the sincerity in her tone sending a fresh rush of desire through you. "Don’t hold back."

Her words break whatever was holding you back. You grip Belle’s arms firmly, your fingers wrapping around her toned biceps as you pull her back toward you. The strength of your hold sends a jolt through her, her breath hitching in surprise. The first thrust with this newfound confidence hits a spot deep inside her, and the sharpness of her reaction is immediate—a loud, high-pitched squeal that escapes her lips, raw and unrestrained. Her body rocks forward, her legs losing their grip on the floor as the force of your motion propels her into the couch’s edge.

Belle braces herself instinctively, her body jerking forward with each powerful thrust. But with her arms pinned securely behind her, gripped firmly in your hands, there’s nothing for her to hold onto, nothing to ground her against the relentless rhythm. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp neck and shoulders, the strain in her posture only amplifying the vulnerability of her position. Each thrust sends her rocking into the edge of the couch, the plush fabric sandwiching her hips, forcing her to take every inch of you with no escape.

The angle leaves her completely at your mercy, her body arching slightly as each deep, unrelenting stroke sends shockwaves through her. Her voice rises in pitch, raw and breathless, every sound spilling from her lips a mix of desperation and pleasure. The force you drive into her keeps her pinned against the couch, her body unable to resist the steady, punishing rhythm.

Her cries grow louder, more broken, the lack of control heightening her response. "Oh—God, Yes!" she gasps, her voice cracking as her legs quiver beneath her. Her body seems to melt into the moment, yielding entirely to the intensity of your movements, her form trembling as each thrust pushes her further into the edge of bliss. The tension in her thighs gives way, and she surrenders fully, the curve of her back accentuating the way she takes you, completely open, completely consumed.

Haneul watches the two of you, her eyes wide with arousal as her breathing grows shallow. Her gaze roams over your body, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, highlighting the way your muscles flex with every deep thrust into Belle. Her thighs press together briefly, her hand pausing before resuming its circular motions as she takes in the sight. The sheer hunger in your movements, the raw force of your rhythm, sends a fresh wave of heat surging through her. She can’t believe how arousing it is to see you like this—so primal, so utterly consumed.

Her fingers move faster as she gives in to the sight before her. Every sound—the wet slap of your bodies connecting, Belle’s unrestrained cries, the ragged rhythm of your breath—pushes her closer to the edge. Her thoughts spiral into a chaotic mix of disbelief and desire. She never imagined she’d feel this way, watching you with someone else, but the reality is undeniable.

Belle’s cries shift, her voice breaking into choked moans as the intensity of your thrusts makes it impossible for her to keep her composure. "Fuck, you feel so good." she gasps, her voice trembling. Her back arches further, her body instinctively seeking more even as the couch forces her hips upward, heightening every sensation. Her legs tremble uncontrollably now, the floor offering no anchor as her knees slide slightly with each powerful thrust.

The pleasure coursing through Belle is relentless, each motion driving her closer to the brink. "Don’t stop," she cries, her voice a ragged mix of plea and demand, her words breaking as her breaths come faster. You can feel her trembling under you, her body tightening with each deep thrust. Her arms strain against your grip, but there’s no escape. She can only take what you’re giving her, her fingers curling helplessly in the air as her legs quiver beneath her, barely holding her up.

Haneul’s eyes flick between Belle’s flushed, sweat-slicked body and yours, her gaze darting to the way your muscles flex and shift with every motion. Her own arousal mounts uncontrollably, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. Her breathing grows shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as soft whimpers escape her lips. Her fingers work furiously between her legs, her thighs trembling as the pleasure surges higher, threatening to overtake her. Her flushed skin glows in the low light, her lips parted as though trying to find air in the heated haze of the moment.

Belle notices Haneul’s struggle, the way her fingers falter slightly, her movements becoming erratic as the edge looms dangerously close. Between her moans, Belle lets out a shaky laugh, her voice breaking under the strain. "Not yet," she gasps, her words sharp and commanding despite the tremble in her tone. "Hold it."

Haneul’s eyes widen, her body freezing momentarily as the words sink in. Her hand stills, and her legs clamp together instinctively as she fights the rising tide threatening to crash over her. Her body trembles violently, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in a desperate attempt to hold on. Her hands clutch at the couch as she pushes back against the overwhelming wave of pleasure, refusing to let it consume her. Every nerve in her body feels like it’s on fire, her muscles straining as she teeters precariously on the edge.

You feel it too—Belle’s body clenching around you, her cries turning into breathless, frantic whimpers as her climax builds to an unbearable peak. Her head tilts forward, dark strands of hair clinging to her damp skin as her body trembles uncontrollably. Her voice cracks as she repeats the command, her tone desperate and insistent. "Hold it. Not yet."

The tension in the room is unbearable, a shared anticipation that binds the three of you together. Every sound, every movement feeds into the moment, the energy coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Belle’s voice finally cuts through the haze, gasping out in a tone laced with both authority and desperation. "Now, Haneul. Let go."

The release is immediate, and the room erupts in a symphony of pleasure. Haneul cries out loudly, her voice raw and uninhibited as her body arches off the couch, the intensity of her climax washing over her in crashing waves. Her hands clutch the fabric beneath her, nails digging into them as her thighs tremble violently, unable to contain the force of her release. Her head tilts back, her lips parted in a series of broken gasps and cries as the pleasure consumes her completely.

Belle’s body tightens impossibly around you as her own climax hits. Her cries rise in pitch, her voice breaking into a series of unrestrained moans as her legs give out completely, leaving her suspended only by the couch’s edge and your firm grip on her arms. Each deep thrust pushes her further into bliss, her body trembling violently as she surrenders entirely to the overwhelming sensations. Her head tilts back, her mouth open in a silent scream before another loud, desperate cry bursts from her lips, the force of her release echoing through the room.

The intensity of the moment sends you over the edge, the sight of both women undone by pleasure pushing you past your limit. With one final, deep thrust, you empty yourself inside Belle, the warmth and tightness surrounding you heightening every sensation. A guttural moan escapes your lips as your body trembles with the force of your release, every muscle taut before the wave of pleasure washes through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. Belle’s body clenches around you, milking every last bit of your release as she shudders beneath your grip.

The room fills with a harmony of moans, each voice blending together in a perfect, raw symphony of shared ecstasy. The sounds—Haneul’s cries of pleasure, Belle’s desperate moans, and your own guttural groans—echo off the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The mingling scents of sweat, arousal, and release create a heady, intoxicating musk that clings to the air, making the atmosphere feel thick and electric.

You stay there for a moment, catching your breath as the room grows quieter, the echoes of your shared moans still lingering in the thick, musk-filled air. The three of you are trembling, spent, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. When you finally pull out, Belle’s body jerks slightly at the motion. She tries to straighten herself, but her legs give out beneath her, leaving her slumped against the armrest. She lets out a soft laugh, her usual confidence momentarily replaced with breathless exhaustion.

"Here," you murmur, stepping forward and gently guiding her to sit on the couch. She shifts carefully, her movements languid as you help her settle into a position facing Haneul. Belle leans back, her legs spreading lazily, her body still radiating heat. Her eyes flicker to Haneul, and her smirk returns, teasing and wicked. "Come here, sweetheart," she purrs, her voice low and inviting. She gestures downward, her fingers tracing idly along her inner thigh. "Clean up your mess."

Haneul hesitates for only a moment, her eyes darting to yours as though silently seeking permission. When you give her a subtle nod, her lips part, and she moves forward on shaky knees, positioning herself between Belle’s legs. Her hands glide along Belle’s thighs, her touch delicate but deliberate, her fingers brushing over the slick remnants of your release. Belle shivers at the contact, her breath catching as Haneul leans in closer.

Haneul’s lips press against Belle’s folds, tentative at first, her tongue sweeping softly along her. Belle gasps, her body twitching slightly as the sensation sends fresh tremors through her. Haneul becomes bolder, her tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes, cleaning every trace of you from Belle’s warm, sensitive skin. Her fingers follow, slipping carefully inside to scoop out the remaining seed. Haneul brings her fingers to her lips, licking them clean with a precision that makes Belle let out a shaky moan.

"God," Belle murmurs, her voice unsteady as her body shudders under Haneul’s attention. "You’re thorough, aren’t you?"

Haneul doesn’t respond, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her tongue and lips continue their work, moving with a mix of care and hunger that draws soft, breathy sounds from Belle. Each stroke of her tongue sends aftershocks through Belle’s body, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as her head tilts back, her damp hair clinging to her skin. By the time Haneul finishes, Belle is slumped against the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling heavily, a long, satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

When Haneul sits back, her lips glistening and her cheeks flushed, she meets your gaze. You’ve been watching from nearby, leaning against the armrest, your heart pounding as you take in the scene. The intensity of the moment is reflected in her expression—a mix of awe, satisfaction, and a lingering arousal that hasn’t entirely subsided.

Without a word, Haneul rises onto her knees and turns toward Belle. Her hands rest gently on Belle’s thighs as she leans in, her lips brushing Belle’s in a soft, exploratory kiss. The contact deepens quickly, their mouths moving together, sharing the mingled taste of you. Their kiss grows more fervent, their bodies pressing together briefly before Haneul pulls back, her chest rising and falling as she turns toward you.

You sit back on the couch, the cushions soft beneath you as you watch her approach. Haneul climbs onto your lap, her knees straddling you as she presses close, her arms wrapping loosely around your neck. Her lips find yours immediately, and the kiss is warm, insistent, filled with a mix of tenderness and lingering heat. You can taste Belle on her mouth—the traces of her release and your own mingling on her tongue—and it sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you, even in the haze of exhaustion.

Haneul melts into you, her body fitting perfectly against yours as she snuggles into your chest. Her head rests on your shoulder, her breathing evening out as she presses soft kisses to your neck. Your arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her close as the weight of the night settles over the three of you.

Belle shifts beside you, her movements unhurried, her body still radiating the warmth of exertion. She reclines lazily next to you, her smirk softening into something gentler. With a quiet sigh, she leans in, resting her head on your opposite shoulder. The scent of her hair—sweet with a faint musky undertone—fills your senses as her body relaxes against yours. Her fingers idly trace along your arm, her touch light and content.

The three of you sit in comfortable silence, the heat of the moment giving way to a warm, shared intimacy. Haneul’s soft kisses continue, her lips grazing your skin as her body molds against yours, her warmth seeping into you. Belle’s breathing steadies, her head nestled on your opposite shoulder, her hair tickling your neck as her eyes flutter closed. The satisfied curve of her lips lingers even as her body begins to relax fully. Your arms tighten around Haneul, one hand brushing lightly against Belle’s arm, grounding all of you in the quiet connection of the moment.

The aftermath unfolds in a haze of gentle movements and shared smiles, the intensity giving way to an almost surreal calm. Eventually, Belle stirs, her head lifting from your shoulder as she stretches with a languid grace. Her legs are still unsteady, and she steadies herself briefly on the edge of the couch before smirking. "You two are something else," she murmurs, her voice carrying a teasing warmth as she reaches for a nearby robe. She drapes it over herself loosely, tying it at her waist before turning back to face you and Haneul.

Belle steps closer, her dark eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. Without a word, she leans in, her lips brushing softly against yours in a lingering kiss. The gesture is simple, but the tenderness behind it leaves you breathless, your chest tightening as she pulls away. Then, she turns to Haneul, cupping her face gently in her hands. Their kiss is just as soft, just as deliberate, and when Belle pulls back, there’s a glimmer of affection in her smile.

"You’re lucky," she says, her voice low and sincere, her gaze flicking between the two of you. "Both of you."

She reaches for a small bag on the nearby table, her movements unhurried. From it, she pulls out a pair of sleek, laminated passes, their glossy surfaces catching the dim light. "Here," she says, holding them out. "These will get you backstage at any of my shows. Consider it my personal VIP invitation." Her smirk softens slightly, a hint of mischief in her expression. "I hope I see you again."

With a small wave and a final glance over her shoulder, Belle steps out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume. The door clicks softly shut, and the quiet, dimly lit space feels heavier, more intimate, as you and Haneul are left alone together.

As you both step out of the venue, the cool night air wraps around you, a stark contrast to the heat and intensity of the evening. The adrenaline from the night begins to fade, leaving behind a pleasant exhaustion that settles deep into your bones. Haneul leans heavily against you, her arm slipping around your waist as her steps falter slightly. She lets out a soft laugh, her cheeks still flushed and glowing.

"My legs feel like jelly," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. "I don’t think I can make it to the car without collapsing."

You chuckle, steadying her as she stumbles again. "Want me to carry you?"

She pouts, her tone playful but tinged with genuine need. "Would you? Please? I’ll be the best girlfriend ever."

You crouch down, laughing softly. "You already are. Come on, hop on."

With a giggle, she climbs onto your back, her arms wrapping securely around your shoulders. Her warmth presses against you, and her face nestles against the side of your neck, her breath tickling your skin. "You’re the best," she murmurs, her voice soft and affectionate.

The walk across the large parking lot is quiet at first, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the stillness. Haneul sighs contentedly, her cheek resting against your shoulder as you carry her, the weight of her feeling comforting and grounding.

After a moment, you break the silence. "So… what did you think?" Your voice is hesitant, unsure, as the memories of the night replay vividly in your mind. "Was it… okay?"

Haneul shifts slightly, tightening her arms around you as her lips brush against your ear. "Okay?" she repeats, incredulous. "That was… I don’t even have words for how hot that was."

Her words send a wave of warmth through you, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding your senses. "Really?" you ask, glancing back at her. "I mean, I thought you’d like it, but I wasn’t sure "I didn’t think it would be so hot," she says suddenly, her tone earnest and spilling over with excitement. Her words come quickly, like she’s unable to contain them. "But watching you—" She pauses for a moment, a small, almost shy laugh escaping her lips before her voice picks up again, stronger. "Watching you let go like that, after I told you to? God, it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen."

Her arms tighten around your shoulders, and you can feel her breath hitch slightly as she continues. "You were holding back at first—I could see it in every move. But then you looked at me, and I could almost feel it—the exact moment you stopped hesitating. And when you did, it was like you became someone else. All that strength, that power—you just used it. And I knew I’d done that. I gave you that permission, and you didn’t just take it—you owned it."

Her voice lowers slightly, but the excitement lingers in every word. "And Belle," she breathes, a soft laugh escaping her. "To see her like that. She’s so strong, so confident—this larger-than-life presence—and yet, you had her completely undone. She wasn’t the performer anymore; she was just… vulnerable, giving in completely. Watching that happen, knowing you were the one doing it, it was…" She trails off, shaking her head slightly against your neck before whispering, "I don’t think I’ll ever forget it."

She shifts slightly on your back, and her voice grows softer, tinged with awe. "Seeing you like that, knowing you could let go so completely—it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved every second of it. It was… more than I ever expected."

You glance back at her, your brow furrowed slightly. "You’re sure? I mean, you’re not just saying this to make me feel better?"

Haneul chuckles softly, her breath warm against your neck as she presses a kiss to your cheek. "I’m sure," she murmurs. "Really. Every second of it was amazing. I didn’t know I’d feel this way, but I loved it. And… seeing you happy, seeing you like that… It made me happy too."

Her words settle over you like a warm blanket, filling you with a quiet, undeniable joy. You press a kiss to her arm, your heart impossibly full as you continue walking. The night feels surreal, the world around you fading into the background as the two of you bask in the afterglow of what you’ve shared.

By the time you reach the car, Haneul’s head has grown heavy against your shoulder, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she begins to drift off. You carefully lower her into the passenger seat, her sleepy smile barely visible in the dim light. The drive home is quiet, the silence filled with a new kind of intimacy. The memories of the night replay like a vivid dream, each detail etched into your mind.

When you finally reach your place, Haneul is half-asleep, her head resting against the window with a small, contented smile. You carry her inside, her arms draping loosely around your neck as she stirs slightly. As you gently set her down on the bed, she shifts slightly, her lashes fluttering as she blinks up at you.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her face and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice quiet but filled with sincerity.

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she smiles, her voice barely audible as she murmurs, "For what?"

"For everything," you reply, your thumb tracing her cheek lightly. "For tonight. For… all of it. I’ll never forget it."

Her lips curve into a sleepy smile, and she closes her eyes again, nuzzling into the pillow. "You don’t have to thank me," she whispers, her words fading as she drifts off. "You deserved it."

As you climb into bed beside her, the weight of the night finally settles over you. The events replay vividly in your mind, and you can’t help but smile as you watch her sleep. It’s a memory the two of you will treasure forever.

[pyr0cue]

That have you listened to this album poll blog is deeply hilarious to me. Does no one listen to music on this website why does no one know any album ever made

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[itspileofgoodthings]

.

[userkoo]

in other news, i think i've finally!!!! planned out and fully decided on my first tattoo and will be scheduling her shortly

[aintashes]

PLAYLIST !

the place where he inserted the blade : black country, new road

you're scared of a world where you're needed so you never made nice with the locals but you tied me up slow with your vine stuff it takes a few years, but they break bones it takes a few months, but our bones heal we're stronger, we tell all our school friends and they sign our cast in the playground

show me the place where he inserted the blade i'll praise the lord, burn my house i get lost, i freak out you come home and hold me tight as if it never happened at all good morning

[andhaveapleasanttomorrow]

[nexus-nebulae]

i love discovering a new will wood song and going absolutely fucking rabid for about a week while i loop the song constantly

[jlheon]

𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐆𝐎 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐇𝐒

(𝓹airing) ── lhs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓮xes to lovers ? ; idol au, angst, & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand 𝓹eng's note. abrupt ending & not proofread oops 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. the idol life was what tore you and heeseung a part, but now you reside under the same label

lee heeseung is everywhere you go.

both of you are idols under companies under hybe. it’s not a rare occurrence to see your ex-boyfriend walking down the same halls, music shows award shows, flights, and every place imaginable.

it’s not unbeatable of course.

you are used to it, while it seems lee heeseung has erased you out of his memory.

acting normal, cordial, when you bump each each other in the elevator.

it’s like you never existed, like you never were a chapter in his life, but it’s not like you can do anything about it now.

THAT’S JUST THE WAY THINGS GO.

you dated heeseung for most of your teenage years.

as corny as it was, you thought he was the one and spend your whole lives together.

that you would end up marrying your first boyfriend.

you both shared the same dream, to become an idol. thus leading to the two of you auditioning for the same companies and picking one since you both got in.

heeseung and you practiced together in secret.

though he got ahead first, from nearly making it into txt and being picked for iland, heeseung was ready to debut.

on the other hand, you still had to wait a couple of years before hybe would consider debuting a girl group.

so you both agreed to break up in the midst of heeseung leaving to film the survival show.

it hurt, it did, but you spent all the remaining weeks together. a sort of final goodbye dragged out as the both of you didn’t want to let go of your relationship just yet.

it was a weird limbo stage.

the handful of friends who knew of your relationship were informed you two had parted ways while you two stayed glued to the hip in secret.

the morning of your last day with heeseung, you cried in his bathroom while he was still asleep.

you tried not to wake him and let him see you in such a state but he heard you. sliding down on his floor to take you into his arms as you cried.

neither of you talked during your last day together. some whispers of one-word replies every couple of hours but most of the time was solely about being close to the other. basking in each other's touch and presence for one final time.

you knew everything would be different after this survival show.

lee heeseung had everything, he was perfect, he was debut-ready. there was not a single doubt that he wouldn’t win the show and become a beloved idol.

even if there was a sliver of a chance he’d lose, his public debut even as a trainee would garner a fanbase waiting for his debut at another time.

when heeseung inevitably placed fifth overall you were watching in your room. a bittersweet feeling washing over you when you remember this means that it was the official end of you and heeseung. your chapter in his life coming to a close.

the last time heeseung contacts you was two days after the finale of iland aired.

a simple, text wishing you debut soon, that he is going to cut contact due to his dating ban, and needing to focus on his career.

you want to hate heeseung.

to yell at him over the phone and scream in his face about how he can’t just leave you behind like that. say that he can’t just forget about you after everything you’ve been through together.

but the other part of you wants to hope. to beg for him back. whether it meant in the future when you hopefully make your debut and he’s in the clear to date or secretly dating now. 

alas, you congratulate him and say only time will tell.

THERE’S SO MUCH LEFT TO SAY, I GUESS I’M JUST THE BIGGER GUY.

now three years past you’ve debuted and are thriving as one of hybe’s newest girl groups.

gaining in popularity with the latest release of your group's first full-length studio album.

which comes with the hectic schedules of filming music shows, variety shows, collaborations tiktoks, and more.

unfortunately or fortunately, enhypen just so happened to have a comeback at the same time. even promoting at the same music show on the same day. 

when your manager told you that you were set to make a video with an enhypen member you felt sick. there was a one in seven chance it would be heeseung.

though you had no say whether or not you did it.

nobody knew of you and heeseung’s past and it was planned to stay that way.

as you walked up to the shooting spot the air in your lungs slowly disappeared. nearly choking when you saw heeseung standing there watching your group's dance as he went over it in his head.

“hey,” heeseung whispered shyly when you quietly stood next to him.

you offer him a bow, as he was now your senior, not the boy you spent years loving.

it’s too quiet when you finish filming the tiktok challenge. rewatching it with heeseung after taking one final shot and bowing goodbye.

though after you notice the camera for both of your groups' behinds stop rolling and your manager doesn’t whisk you away just yet.

the amount of staff slowly disappears and you are about to follow after when you feel a grip on your wrist.

tugging you back towards himself, heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close.

“heeseung?” you question, words coming out airy.

“____,” he whispers, nuzzling his head into your hair, “i missed you.”

“you’re going to get us in trouble,” you mutter, though truthfully you just want to melt into his embrace.

“it’s okay,” heeseung’s grip loosens, only to spin you around in his hold. he looks down at your confused face, “i asked for some privacy with you.”

“why?” you whisper, his mere touch after years of yearning making goosebumps arise on your skin.

“i miss you a lot,” his arm rests around your waist. the other cradles your head and pushes it to rest on his chest, “please, i’m finally able to try us again.”

“i’m still on dating ban,” you frown, finally surrendering and hugging your ex-boyfriend back.

“i talked to your manager,” heeseung holds you tightly, “i took care of everything. please give me a chance again.”

it might be three years later, but for you, lee heeseung can wait thousands of years.

AND I DON’T MIND THAT THAT’S THE WAY THINGS GO.

[aajjks]

Fan(cy) You (m)

synopsis. Meet your biggest fan a.k.a. your biggest nightmare.

pairing: idol yn x fan!jungkook

warnings. DÁRK CÓNTÈNT, psychótíc bèhàvíóúr, sàsàèng jk, yándèrè thèmès, nón cón kïssïng, dèvót��ón, 18+ thèmès

note. Let’s welcome another JK. Also, this was my older fic. Written for Jimin. But I decided to publish this as a JK fic. It was called devotee before. I hope you all will like him!

•••

His heart could explode in his chest.

Actually, it might’ve already did. Jungkook took a deep breath as he tried again to calm himself down. Walking almost fast as he bumped into his fellow— no.

There was only one devotee of you. And that was Jeon Jungkook.

Your biggest fan. Your biggest supporter. Your only lover.

Oh! How heart was shaking in his chest. “Please welcome the fantastic Y/N L/N!!!” His heart stopped.

You— You walked in all your glory. He covered his mouth as his eyes widened at you. You were here!!! You were finally here.

You finally came for him. After such agonising wait... you were finally closer to him.

“Excuse me sir.. can you stop shaking?” His eyes averted to the random person sitting beside him. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, shitface.” He spoke in a cold tone. And looked ahead.

Where you sat. Just right infront of his eyes. A huge love dazed smile started creeping up on his doll like features.

God you are so ethereal.

Were you real? His breath hitches in his throat the more he stared at your face.

His computer couldn’t/never ever did justice to your actual beauty.

He was going to sue the computer company.

It wasn’t really the first time that he was seeing you, oh no. He saw you a long time ago. When you had just debuted as a lead singer of the group.

He knew you the longest, and the most.

Actually more than your own self. Your favourite colour, your every single group EP. Your singles. Your group comebacks, your favourite drinks, your favourite chocolate brand, your favourite clothing, makeup brands. Your favourite bubblegum flavours, your favourite artists, the languages you could speak, your address, your house structure, your car. Your past relationships. Secret or not.

He bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed at the thought of your past relationships. The metallic taste on his tongue, the taste he was so familiar with.

...how could you date someone else? When he was there? How dare you. It was the most horrifying time of his life.

Crying day and night, not eating, tearing everything apart.

Trying to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He could never bring himself to hate you.

“Umm. You know, it’s your turn now...” the weirdo from before spoke again. But this time Jungkook smiled brightly. “Y-Yes!” He quickly stood up and fixed his outfit.

It was his turn now!!! He walked with excitement. HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG.

Admiring you from afar was pure torture.

“Hello mr!” You smiled sweetly. Your eye smile making his heart do so many flips.

God he could kiss you right now!

He really could...

“H-Hi” He meekly replied... getting lost in your beauty. As you signaled to sign his album. His gaze never left your lips.

“I-I love you!!! I love you so much.” He confessed suddenly as you giggled while signing his album. “ aw really? I’m so happy that you do. I love you too.” You replied sweetly.

“What’s your name mr?” You looked up at him. Waiting for his response but he just went silent. he looks weirdly fit, familiar… those tattoos.

You asked again, to the tattooed man, sweetly patiently. when he didn’t reply, just waited for a few moments and that’s when you started noticing his features.

He’s pretty attractive

However, your trail of thoughts was cut short when he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

Gasps were heard as your eyes widened in shock, your brain taking in the situation as he moaned in your mouth. His hands grabbed your face tightly.

You tried to push him away, the security tried too but he didn’t budge.

His dark hair was all you could see, when you felt his tongue licking your lips. “Mphm!!!” You tried to push him away but again... no use.

He kissed you like starved man. And after what felt like eternity he finally pulled away.

You stared at him in shook, while he just licked the lipgloss from his lips. “I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He finally introduced himself.

And your heart stopped. “W-What?!” You stuttered as flashbacks hit you. He just smirked in response.

“You can’t be!” You exclaimed again. “Y-You’re that Sasaeng?!!” You shivered in fear.

Jungkook just giggled. The infamous Y/N L/N’s crazy fan. No. Crazy was an underestimate. He was sickly, dangerously obsessed.

The only one who could do anything for you. “The one and only, my love.”

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[scoopsahoy]

whale tail

ぺ  word count ⋰ 1.8k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ swearing, sex + fingering, oral (female receiving)

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

Eddie was convinced you had to be teasing him at this point. The way you swayed your hips when you walked, those too-tight jeans, and the way you touched him nonchalantly when you spoke. It was like you wanted him to jump your bones.

But there was one day in particular that he couldn't get out of his head. He had mentioned wanting to sell some vinyls he didn't listen to, and they just happened to be the bands you loved most. So you begged to come look at what he was discarding, him enthusiastically agreeing — what, with the crush he had on you.

But when you squatted down to dig through the box of records, your underwear poked out above your jeans. The only reason it caught his eye was because they weren't just any regular underwear.

You were wearing a thong.

It wasn't intentional, they just happened to be the only clean underwear you had at the moment.

Eddie didn't breathe for probably a good ten seconds, his eyes locked on the Y shape they created. They were a deep red and had lacy trim, and he wondered how they could possibly be comfortable. He wondered if you wore them for him, if you walked around every day with those panties on.

And the thought of that turned him on a ridiculous amount. Picturing you going to school every single day with the hottest underwear hidden beneath those clothes could've made him bust on its own, but he had to control himself while you were in his room.

You gasped, finding a copy of Rock a Little by Stevie Nicks. You stood up and turned to face him, your whale tail disappearing under your shirt.

"Where did you get this?" you asked, staring at the album cover.

"What, that? A thrift store, I think."

"Do you have any idea how hard I've searched for this?" He shook his head. "I have every single other Stevie album, but I've never been able to find this. It's always sold out." You looked up at him. "And you found it at a thrift store!" He chuckled a bit. "You lucky fucker. How much?"

"It's yours."

"What?"

"Take it. It's yours."

"Come on. I brought money."

"Seriously, just take it. I don't want your money."

You rolled your eyes. "Eddie, don't be ridiculous. The whole point of this was because you wanted to sell these. Let me buy it." You pulled the five dollar bill out of your pocket and stepped over to him, shoving it in his front pants pocket.

He instinctively jerked back a bit after realizing he had a partial boner. You noticed as soon as your fingers went in, and you looked up at him.

"Sorry," he said immediately, walking quickly into the living room. You two were the only ones home, Eddie having said something about him working.

Your eyes were wide and you swallowed the spit in your mouth, following him after a few seconds.

"It's okay," you reassured. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, it's not your fault."

"I mean, isn't it, kind of?" He furrowed his brows a bit. "I'm not an idiot, Eddie. I could feel you staring at my ass when I was squatting."

"I-I wasn't staring at your ass."

"Then what were you staring at?"

"Uh... I could see your underwear."

"My underwear?" That's when you realized what you were wearing and your cheeks went red. "Oh. Shit, I... I didn't even realize I was wearing those."

"They're pretty," he said awkwardly.

"Uh... thanks. I should, uh, get going." He reached into his pocket and pulled the money back out and tried handing it to you. "For the last time, Munson. Keep it. That's how selling things works." He still looked annoyed, but agreed and laid it down on the coffee table. "I'll see you around school, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And with that, you slipped out of his door and practically sprinted to your car.

—

The next day at school, you were putting your books in your locker when you heard footsteps stop on the other side of the door. You closed it a bit to see Eddie standing there with his arms crossed.

"Hey," you greeted warmly.

"Hi."

"What's up?"

He held your jacket out and you sighed. "You left this at my place."

"Oh, thank you. I completely forgot about it."

"Yeah."

He didn't move after you threw the jacket into your locker.

"Is there something else?"

"I... Yeah, kinda."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night."

"What about last night?"

"You know."

You remembered the whale tail, mentally punching yourself.

"Oh. That."

"Yeah. That."

"So what are you asking?"

He looked at you for a minute before choking out, "Come by again tonight." He leaned closer to you, his lips just inches from your ear. "And wear them again."

Without another word, he turned and walked away. You were in a bit of shock, your eyes wide and mouth agape.

So when you found yourself standing outside his trailer, your fist in the air waiting to knock and the same thong underwear on as yesterday, you took a deep breath before connecting your hand with the door.

You didn't even finish knocking before the door whipped open. There stood a smiling Eddie with a beer bottle in his hand.

"Hey," he smirked.

"Hi."

"Come on in." You walked up the few stairs and into the living room, where he came up behind you with another bottle in hand. "Want one?" He put them down on the counter after he asked.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't really drink-"

You were interrupted by his lips against yours. He was gentle but dominant, his hands on your sides. You kissed back and braced yourself on his shoulders.

He turned you around and sat you on the small table to your left, his hips between your thighs.

"This okay?" he asked into your mouth.

"Yes," you breathed.

As you kissed, he reached down and unbuttoned your jeans, looking down to see the thong. He smirked, making eye contact with you.

"You wore 'em."

"You told me to."

"Mm. Good girl. Lift your hips up."

You did as told and leaned back on your hands, lifting your hips into the air to allow him to pull your pants off. He couldn't take his eyes off your body, the thong really complimenting your figure.

You pulled his lips back to yours and felt his fingers creep up your thigh. Once his pointer finger started lightly pressing to your underwear, you broke the kiss.

"Take 'em off me," you commanded, to which he followed. He pulled them off of you with such speed that you couldn't even lift your hips all the way.

Once you were exposed, he dropped to his knees and began kissing your thighs, making sure to look at your face. You bit your lip and whimpered as you watched his mouth inch towards their destination.

And when he buried his face in your pussy, you threw your head back and moaned. You laid back so you were flat against the table, your head hanging off.

He propped your legs on his shoulders and held the tops of your thighs, his tongue working wonders.

"Shit," you whispered, unable to stay still.

Getting you off seemed to be his only objective, watching your body writhe as he ate you out. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, the other hand on his.

Sloppy sounds filled the trailer, and it didn't take long for you to feel yourself going over the edge. But when you finally did, he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He continued exactly what he was doing, desperate to give you at least two or three orgasms before his pants even came off.

And when he succeeded the third time, you had to physically push him away. You'd never had more than two at a time, so the third one was almost too much for you.

When you looked down at him, his grinning face was soaked. You couldn't help but giggle as he wiped his chin with his shirt. He stood up and leaned over you, kissing your neck a few times before moving to your mouth.

"Do you have condoms?" you asked a moment later.

He immediately pulled one out of his pocket before undoing his own pants and dropping them to his ankles.

He was thick, and you could tell he was going to stretch you out. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and put it on with ease, his fingers tracing circles around your clit. Your body jerked at the sensation, both of you chuckling.

He pressed the tip of his dick against your entrance, teasing you for a moment.

"Eddie, please."

And with that, he was pushing into you. The sound of your moans filled the room, your back arching.

"That okay?" he asked, looking at you for approval.

"So good."

That was his cue to bottom out, your eyebrows furrowing at his size. He started out thrusting slowly, giving you time to adjust. But his speed soon increased, involuntary moans tumbling from your mouth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whined, his grip on your hips only tightening.

"Kiss me, Eddie," you begged, him leaning down and connecting your lips. You could tell this was uncomfortable for him, so he picked you up, still inside of you, and carried you over to the counter. He sat you down and held your head in place to kiss you, continuing to thrust into you.

This position was even more pleasurable, your body flush against his as he fucked you. The hand not on your face was pressed against your lower back, keeping you still.

He was close. He was never this quick to finish. But something about your pussy was magical. You were easily the best fuck he'd had. But he was good at holding off his orgasms for longer sex. And he wanted to please you.

So when he could tell you might be close to another orgasm, he reached down between you two and with his thumb started fingering you.

You couldn't even speak before another one ripped through you, unable to keep yourself from moaning loudly. To quiet you, he kissed you deeply, engulfing every sound that came from your mouth. And feeling you cum around him made him fill the condom, both of you grunting and moaning into each other's mouths.

When he finally stilled his movements, the only sound in the room was that of your out of sync breathing. Your foreheads together, neither of you could move for a moment. He kissed you, you returning it lazily.

"Jesus," he said.

"That was good," you whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. You're good at that."

"I know." His sarcastic cockiness could only make you chuckle.

Neither of you spoke while you got redressed. You decided to take another look at his records, your thong poking out of your pants again.

"We should do this again sometime," he said as he opened your car door for you.

You leaned against the inside of the door, propping your elbows on it.

"You want to?"

"Absolutely. Do you?"

You smiled. "Absolutely. I'll be back tomorrow."

[written-in-flowers]

Here, Hyung?: Changbin x Male!Reader

Pairing: Changbin x Male!Reader | Side Pairing(s): Chan x Male!Reader, Changbin x Hyunjin, Minho x Jisung, Ot8 x Male!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, | AU: idolverse! idol!au

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Changbin drags you to the gym with him after a recording session. What starts off as a normal work out between friends becomes something much more strenuous.

Tags: polyamory, public sex, shower sex, teasing, handjob, cockwarming, voyeurism exhibitionism, group sex, foursome, body worship, muscle worship, muscle kink, gym sex, biting, spanking, rimming, anal sex, anal fingering, creampie, finishing inside, cum eating/swallowing, subby!han, dom!chan, bigdick!changbin, top!changbin, bottom!reader,

Disclaimer: This work is completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Here's What You Missed on Newbie!

Next on Newbie!

***

“That was really great, YN, but I think for ‘come inside now’, try to get it to match Felix’s ‘Hey’. Like, his line is pretty fast, so you should match that speed. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“Alright, awesome. Whenever you’re ready.”

You loved being in the studio. Working on music makes you feel more productive. You felt alive when you sang; when you sang, you could forget whatever bothered you in the moment. Adjusting your headphones, you shook out the slowness from your sleepiness and let the music play again. This would be your first album with Stray Kids. A repackage with your first single, ‘God’s Menu’, Chan, Changbin and Han felt some new songs featuring you will endear fans to you more. They also said it showed off your singing talents. You wanted to make them proud of you, especially Chan, who had so much faith in you. 

“That was good,” Chan said, approving the newest take. “Let’s go to the next line.”

“I shout my lungs out, I don’t have time to hesitate.” You sang into the microphone, following the music playing through your headphones. Yet, you thought you felt your voice crack on the last word, and you shook your head. You heard the three producers giggling, and you couldn’t help laughing with them. “Can I do that one again?”

“Don’t you want to play it?” teased Chan through the booth speaker.

“No,” you answered, smiling and laughing. “Please, no.” 

“You sure?” Han asked, purposefully cracking his voice to tease you. 

“We shouldn’t subject ourselves to that,” you chuckled. 

You sang the line again, this time hitting every note before the trio deemed it suitable to continue. “Very good job, YNnie,” said Chan through the speaker again. “I think we’re going to finish quickly today.” 

“Can I do one more take of that one?”

“Why? It’s fine.”

“I think if I add a bit of huskiness, it’ll flow into the next line better. I’d like to try it and see how it sounds.” 

“Alright, sure,” he said, “I’ll keep this one and we can record that one and see?”

“Yeah, cool.” 

“Cool.” 

You each decided the first recording was better than the second. Chan told you he wanted to give you larger parts in some songs to showcase your vocals. He always brought out the best in his members, not letting go of a line until it was perfect. You’d grown to trust Chan to make you sound as good as he possibly could. He also grew interested in the dozens of original songs you had backlogged in your laptop, and written in your notebooks in your room. He’d seen them when he found you writing in the cafeteria before dance practice, and asked. You normally hesitated when sharing your music; it felt like sharing a piece of your soul when you did, but you showed them to Chan. 

Something about the leader knocked down your walls. 

“YNnie,” Changbin stood up from the couch, fixing his hair. He’d come to the studio in his work out shirt and shorts, and you knew why. “Let’s go to the gym.” 

“Do we have to, hyung?” you pouted, hoping your cuteness might persuade him otherwise. “We have so much work to do here.”

"Actually, you’re done for today, hyung,” Han said, smirking as his words pushed you further to the gym-route. “We’re doing the next song tomorrow.”

“Stop being a baby,” said Changbin. “Get your stuff together and we can find a way to make you like getting healthy.”

“I’m plenty healthy,” you mumbled, grabbing your duffle bag from beside the couch. 

When you reached the door, Chan caught your attention. You wished he’d worn something else other than a tight black shirt and put a cap over his soft fluffy curls. Even if the other members surpassed all idols with natural beauty, Chan always caught your eye. You stood by the door when he came over to you, Han speaking with the other producers by the boards. 

“Hey, if you’re not busy later,” he said, “I thought it’d be cool if we worked on some of your songs? I’d like to add the one you told me about to the repackage album.”

“‘The View’? Oh no, that one’s not ready yet. I don’t think it’ll go well with the vibe of the repackage anyways,” you said modestly. “It’s not even finished.” 

“We can work on it together,” he insisted. “I’d like you to be part of the music production too. You have all that equipment in your room; it’s like your own little studio. Why not?”

“It’s just not good.”

“You need to start having more confidence, dude,” he grinned. “Your stuff is great. I mean it.” 

Compliments from Chan never cease to make your heart flutter.

“So, we’ll do that and we can get some dinner together or whatever,” he said. 

“Sounds good. I mean, I’m going to be beat since Changbin will likely ride me throughout the gym,” you said, “But that sounds good to me.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to take it easy on you,” he winked. “See you later, bro.”

“Later.”

Working out with Changbin was not on your To-Do list for today. You’d originally planned to go to the practice room for a solo practice run after recording. But when Changbin texted you a photo of his gym outfit that morning, you knew you’d be elsewhere today.

“Hyung,” you whined behind him as you walked to the company gym downstairs. 

“You’ll feel better when you’re done,” Changbin said, cutting off your complaint before it began. “It’s good for you to do something besides work. You’re turning to Bangchan-hyung. He does nothing but work until he’s burnt out and running on fumes.”

“I do other stuff besides work,” you scoffed. 

“Hardly. I promise,” he said, “After today, you’ll like working out. This is my mission today.” 

You walked in behind him to the company gym in your plain shirt and loose shorts, very unenthusiastic about this. You went to the gym to keep up your fitness for performances, and that was all. You learned after four months of being with Stray Kids that Changbin actually enjoyed working out at the gym. This should have been obvious given the guy’s muscled arms, chest and shoulders. The same muscles that had you weak in the knees the whole time. 

Memories of the last time you’d gone to the gym with Changbin made you internally cringe. You did your best not to notice his shirt clinging to his torso and biceps that day. Every time he made the softest of grunts, instant images of him making those sounds with you came. You hated being so weak for them; you should be focusing on yourself, not whatever horny desires came to you. You’d debuted, but you still needed to keep improving and working. You couldn’t let Stray Kids distract you with their gorgeous faces, perfect bodies, chaotic energy and open sexuality. While you did slightly more comfortable being open with them, you couldn’t let it slip too much. 

“Or we could go to your place?” you recommended to him, putting your personal belongings in the company locker room. “Play Playstation and forget about the gym completely?”

“Another time,” he smirked. “I need a new gym buddy, and it’s going to be you.”

“Why me?” you groaned, following him to the gym area. “I’m terrible at working out.” 

“That’s why,” he said. “Is it wrong for a hyung to want his dongsaeng to be fit and healthy?” 

“No, but…”

Changbin brought you over to a series of mats lined up in front of a mirror. His eyes swept over you for a moment, then he said, “Don’t worry, YNie. If you get hard again, I’ll take care of it for you.”  

“I won’t.” 

“Sure, you won’t. Come on, pervert-”

“-I’m not a pervert-” you answered, hiding your face from him. 

“Warm up with me.” 

You started with simple stretches before he led you in lunges and leg swings to get your legs moving. It became a joke in the group to call you ‘Pervert’ when nobody else was around. You supposed you’d earned it with everything you’d done during pre-debut. While you might act shy about it, you did not mind it so much when they said it with affectionate, teasing smiles. 

“You actually do have a good body,” he said when you both laid on your elbows and toes to do high planks. “How often did you work out before?”

“Not that often. Once a week, I think? I did most of it through dancing anyway.”

“You should come more often, especially with me and Chan-hyung.”

“Chan-hyung comes here?”

“Of course he does,” he snorted. “Where did you think he worked out?”

“His dorm. Another gym,” you guessed out loud. 

Working out alone with Chan. You didn’t mind Changbin at all, but any excuse to be alone with Chan sounded great to you. Not just because he said when he fucked you, he wanted you to himself either. You enjoyed being in his company. He carried this comforting aura about him that made you feel safe. You understood why the other members felt okay being open in front of him. While you did like being in the studio with him, it was places outside the company building you liked. He often took you out to a cafe around the corner for coffee or you went to parks where you sat and ate snacks together. You talked about everything from your lives before kpop to your families and to your mornings. The warm infatuation you felt around him blossomed into a much grander feeling. When you’d both gone out for drinks after a long practice day, you both stood at the bar’s outdoor area overlooking the Han river. The wind blowing in his black hair, the dim lanterns bringing a glow to his beige skin, you realized not a single soul measured up to him. Not even Jihwan, who once owned your heart. You thought about kissing him. You wished he’d kissed you. 

“You like him, huh?” Changbin asked, standing with you from the mats. 

“Who?”

“Chan,” he said, “You really like him.”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”

He laughed, “No, I mean, like-like him, YN.”

“Oh,” you laughed nervously, looking at yourself in the mirror to avoid meeting his eyes, “I mean, wha-what makes you say that?”

“The fact that you look at him with heart eyes whenever he’s not looking at you,” he smiled. “You’re always looking for excuses to hang out with him, and just him. I know these things.” 

“I don’t have a-Wha-I just admire Chan and look up to him as our leader, that’s it.”

“Ha, yeah, you want to look up to him…from your knees.” 

He laughed softly when you flicked his shoulder. He brought you over to the pull down machine, since Changbin insisted you should work on your biceps and back for a bit. He helped you grab onto the handle above you, then observed as you pulled it down gently with light weights. 

“You know,” he smirked as he adjusted the back to keep you from leaning, “He likes you too.”

“What? No, he doesn’t. We’re just bros. That’s it.” 

“Maybe to you,” he said, “But I know Chan. He likes spending time with you in and out of the studio. He picks you to be on his team in every SKZ Code game we play. He naturally sits next to you when we go out as a group; he always chooses to walk next to you. He loves the other members, of course, but he’s taken a special interest in you.”

“Yeah,” you finished your set with a grunt, “Because I’m still new and he wants to make sure I’m adjusting okay. That doesn’t mean he’s in love with me or anything.”

“I know when somebody is in love,” he grinned knowingly.

“Psh, please.”

“Because I was the same way with Hyunjin.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, no not when he was underage,” he said quickly. “I might’ve joked with him about it, but I wasn’t serious about it until about two years ago?” He took up the bench next, and you did your best not to take in the muscles. “We grew closer, and I suddenly got butterflies around him all the time. I liked teasing and joking with him. I found reasons to be next to him, to talk to him, to laugh with him.” He smiled softly to himself as he did his first set. “I thought we’d always be only friends because he was younger, and that’s how we started out. But then, during one studio session, he kisses me. Like, randomly kisses me. Then tells me he’s always had a crush on me, and hoped that all the times I flirted with him weren’t jokes.” He stopped pulling, then stood, “Then you guys started dating?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Maybe if you two stopped dancing around one another, you might actually get somewhere.”

“It’s not like that.”

When you went over to the pull up bars, Changbin let you get into position first. He placed both his hands on either side of your torso. He then pressed his lips close to your ear, “In that case, if things aren’t like that,” his hands went to your waist, “There are seven other members who’d love to take his place. I know Hyunjin and I would love you to join us.”

“Hyung,” you breathed, a special kind of warmth running down your body now, “We’re at the gym.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” he said, grabbing your arms to place on the bar above you. 

Your hands above your head, Changbin had access to the rest of you. His hands slipped through the loose holes of your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin. You didn’t know if you’d be able to pull yourself up with him right behind you. Yet, you started pulling yourself up at a steady pace. It made your muscles burn slightly from the strain of lifting your body. Changbin didn’t say anything as he held onto your hips, occasionally sliding into your shirt to brush your nipples. Your eyes kept darting around the gym for a sign of a single soul, but the early hour left the place deserted. As you did a few more pull ups, you trembled at the hands going further down your body. Soon, he held you by the curves of your ass as if using you as a weight. 

“Changbin-hyung,” you giggled out of embarrassment when you finally let go of the bar. “Here?”

“There’s nobody around,” he whispered, arms going around your waist and face buried in your neck. Planting gentle kisses along your collarbone, he said, “We can mess around a little bit here. I do it with Hyunjin and Chan all the time.”

You gulped imagining Chan and Changbin in a similar position. Then, you gasped when the hands on your ass gently pulled down the back of your shorts. The sudden exposure left you flustered and not sure what to do. Tightness built up in your lower gut when Changbin pressed his groin to your bare ass, the smooth fabric of his shorts dragging up the crack. 

“You should do a few squats,” he said, voice low and breathy as he grabbed one of your cheeks. “It’ll help with your thighs and keep this ass in perfect shape.” 

“You think my ass is nice?” you replied. 

“More than nice, trust me.” 

He spat on his fingers and slipped them between your cheeks. A gasp left you when the two fingers brushed right to your entrance, and you might’ve folded right then. Still, you got into the proper upright position and began taking careful squats. It didn’t help that each brush put you right against Changbin’s wet fingers. Sometimes, he’d stop you just to tease. He started with slow circles around it, going up and over at times before returning to the torturous touch. It brought on a tickling sensation that hit your core multiple times. Your loins might’ve been on fire from how he so expertly teased you. Whenever you grew shaky, he’d give a soft laugh and slide his fingers down to your balls for a few delicate rubs. 

“Changbin…” you whimpered when he did this. You completely forgot the burning in your legs due to the pleasure pulsating to the apex of your thighs. “That feels so good.”

“It makes you reconsider coming to the gym with me again, huh?” he teased, pushing his finger to your hole when you stopped squatting.“I don’t mind doing this with you any time.” 

One arm around your waist, he slid his hand under your shirt to tease your nipple. You did nothing to push him away; it felt too good to stop him. You wished he’d do more. 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’ll want to do it all the time.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he chuckled, pushing his finger in another knuckle. Your body contorted backwards to the finger probing your ass. His thumb brushed over your middle of your nipple, adding to the arousal in your lower belly. “The gym is the best place for it. There’s lots of places for me to work out both my muscles and pretty boys like you.” You whined when he withdrew his hand, unable to avoid the emptiness he left behind. An idea came to him as he brought your lips to his, “Come to the bench press with me. You need to work out your chest.” 

The bench press proved to have nothing to really do with working on your pectorals. It served to let Changbin’s fingertips sail up and down your torso teasingly between sets. He’d added weights to either side for you when he saw the normal 20kg on each side was nothing to you. The only time he did not touch you was when you were lifting, since too much distraction might make you lose your grip. When he saw you struggle on the last set, your arms burning, he straddled you to help you lift it easily. You couldn’t help noticing the bump in his shorts, and how close it was to you. With the bar out of the way, he could easily pull it out and shove it down your throat. You bit your lower lip thinking about it. 

“Pervert,” Changbin laughed, shaking his head. He grabbed himself through his shorts, showing the print underneath, “You’re practically drooling for it, aren’t you?”

“No,” you said unconvincingly. “It’s just in my eye line. That’s all.” 

“Just like how your pretty lips are in my eye line, right?” he said, rubbing his cock through his shorts. He moved further up the bench until his crotch was inches from your face, “Or how they’re so close they could kiss my dick through my shorts.” 

“Yes,” you sighed, mouth watering from the thick outline right in front of your face. 

“Go on,” he encouraged, tugging on himself, “Give it a kiss or two, if you wa-oh wow…” 

Hooking your arms around his thick thighs, you started kissing right where his ballsack sat. Changbin exhaled deeply when you began a soft trail across both balls, nuzzling them to take in his natural musk through his pants. You kissed up to his shaft, though the position only allowed you halfway. You used your hands to rub the tip steadily growing upwards. You saw his eyes grow heavy with lust, and his chest started heaving slightly from your touches. Your eyes remained locked on his as you licked where his balls might be, the fabric dragging on your tongue which curved to the shape. 

“You pretend to be so innocent and shy,” he laughed, doing everything in his power not to grind on your face. “But, you’re just a naughty boy, aren’t you?” When you nodded, grabbing his dick through his shorts, he groaned, “A very kinky, naughty boy.” 

“It’s not my fault you all make it so easy,” you giggled. “All I have to do,” you gently slipped his shorts past just the tip, “Is exist around you and you get hard.” You delicately traced the wrinkles underneath the hard head, going down each one until you went back up. “Like, be honest, hyung. You brought me here to fuck me, not work out with me.” 

“I did bring you to work out,” he said, eyes closed, “But the fucking part crossed my mind too.” 

“Bunch of horndogs,” you snorted, “Every single one of you.”

“Hey, what can we say? We’re young,” he snickered, “And have a lot of pent up feelings.”

“Yeah, sure.” 

A trickle of precum spilled from the tip, and you eagerly licked it up with your fingers. Changbin let out shaky breaths as you continued teasing him, gripping the barbell on the rest in front of him. Someone could walk in right then. They could hide in the equipment, pull out their phone and film you driving Changbin crazy. Something about that scared and aroused you. The idea of someone watching you always made you rock hard, especially if they filmed it for later use. You hoped for a moment someone did walk in as you pulled down his pants another inch. 

“Let me get on the bench for a few sets,” he said hurriedly. “You can cockwarm me while you watch.” 

He lifted his pants up and you both dismounted the bench. You kept your hands in front of your crotch, dying from being so aroused in a public place. This would be the moment that Changbin takes you to the showers, where you both finish each other off. But, instead Changbin put on the weights of the barbell as if you’d hadn’t been teasing his cock seconds ago. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’s done this that he acts so nonchalant about it. You noticed the bulge forming in his shorts, and wondered how he is not dying from shame over it. Changbin laid right on the bench to then do the most scandalous thing. 

He pulled out his full cock. You thought you might be in a porn video. 

“Spit on it before you sit,” he suggested, stroking himself right underneath you. “I don’t want to hurt you too badly.”

You hadn’t seen Changbin up close on comeback night. Not particularly long, he was certainly thick. It made your cock pulse. Bending down, you drooled over the head. Seeing your spit travel down before he started spreading it over, you took hold of him yourself for several long strokes. You slid the head into your mouth, hearing Changbin give a soft groan, before straddling him on the bench. Changbin gripped the barbell, eyes focused on you pulling down your pants again and aligning him with your ass. You took deep breaths in anticipation of his width stretching you, then slid down. You let out quiet moans in every inch, your heart racing and stomach tightening as he slipped further inside you. When you finally impaled yourself on him, Changbin let out a low groan that tilted his head back. 

“That’s so nice,” he moaned, pushing up into you gently a few times to hear you whine his name. “Your ass is squeezing me so tightly. I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate with you warming my dick up like this.”

“You-Y-You should try, hyung. You’v-You’ve barely worked out today,” you breathed deeply, hands on his ribcage as you fought the urge to ride him. His tip pushed right to your g-spot; you almost lost your mind when he rocked into you. “You’re not the only one who cares about his members’ health and bodies.” 

He chuckled at your words, then steadied his hold on the barbell. You sat on his cock, your own throbbing on his stomach in your pants, as he lifted it up and down with ease. His muscles bulged in each angle, his chest and shoulders working themselves each time. You felt up his abdomen when he took a break, feeling to his chest and rubbing along the line between his pectorals. His muscle shirt created a thin barrier between your fingers and his nipples. This distracted him a moment, so he placed the barbell on the rest as his body twitched under you. 

“YN…” he laughed, eyes closed. 

“I just want to make sure you’re steady,” you said, feeling back down his body. “You have such nice muscles. I want to feel them while you fuck me.” 

“In that case,” he took hold of the barbell again, “I should work them out a bit more for you.” 

You continued rubbing up and down Changbin’s chest, his muscles moving underneath your hands. The temptation to start riding him came hard, and you found yourself squirming for him to move inside you. You thought he might give in with how you clenched around him, but Changbin maintained his workout. He continued pumping the barbell up and down, taking steady breaths, while still enjoying your hands and ass on him. The small worry that someone might come in and see you sitting on top of Changbin like this came to you again. Your ears kept trying to find the slightest sound of a footstep or door opening as you sat there. But, your burning arousal made it harder to care. 

“Ugh!” Changbin grunted on the last lift, setting the bar back on the rest. He held onto your hips, keeping you in place as he started rocking himself to you. You thought you might lose it right there, his tip pressing deep inside you. “I think we’re done for today,” he groaned, “We can continue this workout in the shower?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You tried not whining too loudly as you forced yourself off him. Your cock tapped against your stomach now, which Changbin noticed right away. Even though you both pulled your pants back up, hands still sunk back into them as you kissed. You whimpered into Changbin’s mouth, tongue battling with his own while he fondled you gently. The touch sent you in a whirlwind. Your desire burned hot, bringing up a surge of excitement during your walk to the locker rooms nearby. 

Changbin barely waited to start undressing you. Your back pressed to the cold steel lockers, you kicked off shoes and tore off socks before working on each other’s shirts and pants. Seeing him bare in front of you, cock stiff to his stomach, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling him all over. You kissed down his neck to his pecs, where you sucked the soft flesh until the spots turned purple. Changbin hissed, but did not discourage you. Your fingers went down his defined abdomen, almost counting each one before reaching the top of his erection. But, you then reached around to feel his strong back muscles. They flexed at your touch, and you moaned. 

“You’re so strong, hyung,” you moaned, gripping his broad shoulders and locked yourself around his waist. He carried you to the shower stalls easily; he might have been carrying a lightweight box, in your opinion. “You’re so much bigger than me…It’s so hot,” you giggled. 

“Do you like that I’m wider?” he asked, turned on by your response. He put you to the wall as he turned on the shower in the nearest stall. 

“I do,” you whimpered. Your cocks pressed together, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding on him. “I like being thrown around and manhandled by bigger guys.”

“I can definitely throw you around,” he smirked. 

He set you down to turn on the shower, then immediately brought you underneath it. The gentle rainfall sprayed over the pair of you; streams slipped between you even in your kisses, falling down your bodies to the floor. Your hands found his pecs again, which you squeezed softly to hear him groan in your mouth. Being this close to him, getting to enjoy his body freely, felt liberating. For years, you felt scared to show even an ounce of interest in another man. The lingering nightmare that someone outside the company found out and your career would be ruined forever often came to you. Beomgyu’s hurtful words and fists became a harsh lesson in showing that who you truly were wasn’t allowed. He would’ve put you in the hospital if the manager hadn’t walked in on it. As Changbin’s hands gently caressed you, you thought of them being harsher and rougher with you. He could break you easily, like Beomgyu. 

“What’s wrong?” Changbin’s voice pulled you away, though he simply switched to kissing your neck. 

“This feels…good.”

“I know,” he smirked against your throat, leaving a soft bite and lick before moving back down. “It does for me too.”

“No, not just like that.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve never done this with a guy before,” you said, breathless as you felt his hands grab your ass. “I was always scared they might reject me or hurt me. I was always afraid of getting caught. I’ve kept who I was a secret for a long time. I know I still have to, but…” 

“Not with us?” he finished your sentence, kissing the other side of your neck as he kneaded your bottom. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, because you shouldn’t,” he slipped his hand down your front to your aching dick, “The only pain you’ll get with us is a few hard smacks to the ass, and lots of edging. Particularly with Chan and I,” he kissed you right as you moaned at his touch. “I love seeing the pretty ones wriggle,” he started stroking you slowly, “And whine while I keep them on the edge. Do you like that?”

“I’ve done it to myself,” you admitted, head falling back as more water continued spraying on you, “But not with another person.”

“Then we can do it another time. Time is pretty limited,” he said, thumb massaging your tip, “And I need to have you right now. Turn around, baby.”

You faced the wall, breath growing heavy with anticipation. Changbin crouched down and spread your ass cheeks apart. Water ran down your back to your bottom, where it slipped between your parted buttocks and over the tight hole. It teased the tight sensation in your balls; shooting up to your leaking tip. Changbin’s tongue created a different type of wetness that made you lean into the tiled wall. The tip of his tongue circled and flicked at it, while his hands continued squeezing your cheeks. You even gave a small yelp when he spanked one side, enjoying the small spark of pain and pleasure. Soon, he stood, and your fingers curled to your palms in fists. He did not shove himself into you immediately, though you felt his temptation clear. 

“Relax,” he said softly in your ear, tip pressed to your entrance, “Relax for me, baby.”

You tried, but your body still jumped when he pushed the first inch inside you. It certainly stretched. He took a few careful pumps with the one inch before adding a second, then a third. Each time had you simultaneously wanting him to rail you and keeping it slow to make it last. Any moment, you knew, someone could walk in and hear your labored breathing and faint moans. Much like the times before, public sex made you eager for a hard orgasm. The moment Changbin fully filled you, you fell into a spiral of bliss. 

“How’s that? It doesn’t hurt too much?” he asked with concern, keeping himself hilt deep to let your body adjust. “Do you want me to take it out?”

“No, no,” you said quickly, “Keep it in me. Fuck me, hyung. Please. I want it so bad.”

Changbin somehow kept a handle on his desires, because he kept the same careful speed. He gave small slaps to your ass, pinching and grabbing the tops of your cheeks to distract you. When he saw this only made you hornier, he kept doing it. 

“I think our team might have a new butt,” he said, pushing deep into you as he brought you to his chest. “Yours is so nice. It’s all round and a little plump. It’s just enough to grab onto while I fuck your tight hole.” 

His dirty talk only added to the pleasure wracking your body. You reached down to your cock, fiercely stroking to chase down your orgasm. Changbin did not stop you from pushing into his hips, clearly content with letting you use him. His own moans joined yours when you went faster. 

“Just like that,” he said, smacking your ass again, “Fuck my dick like that. I want to cum in this nice ass of yours.”

“Yes, please, hyung,” you said, forehead against the tile floor as your body tensed. “Cum inside me. I want your cum dripping out of me, please.” 

Suddenly, as if the fates hated you, the shower room door opened. Who the hell could be using the shower first? Changbin stopped right away, alert to the sound and stayed planted inside you. Your body shook against the wall, and you clawed at the grout between the tiles from frustration. Soft footsteps hit the tile floors, likely slippers, as they came further into the room. Panic slowly started setting in when a voice rang out. 

“Changbin-hyung? Are you in here?” 

Han. You recognized his voice right away, but the panic did not go away. 

“Hannie?” Changbin asked, surprised. 

“I came to work out. Hyunjin said you and YN might still be here,” he said. “Did he leave already? I didn’t see him outside.”

“No, he’s…He’s here.”

Han paused, then stifled a giggle. “Really? Here, hyung?”

“It just happened,” he said, kissing your neck and feeling safe enough to pull you into him. “He’s so pretty.”

“God, you’re such a slut,” he huffed. “I’ll tell Chan you guys are in here.”

Chan was here? Why did that turn you on more? Changbin and you resumed what you’d been doing, this time with him taking over jerking you off in time with his thrusts. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your knees and legs started shaking as your orgasm approached. Changbin, sensing this, picked up the pace. The two of you thought Han went back outside before a rush of cold hit you from the shower door. Han stood in his usual gym clothes, smirking with his arm crossed. His eyes scanned down your naked bodies, then stopped where they met. Changbin stopped a second time, head resting on your shoulder, as he took deep breaths. 

“Don’t you know not to open a shower door?” he asked, unable to keep himself from grinding into you. “We’re busy.”

“I wanted to watch,” he said. “I’ve never seen YN be the bottom.”

A second person then appeared, and you thought you might cum right then. Chan stood in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, his black curls back from his face. He said nothing as he took in the steamy scene before him. Your eyes met his and you didn’t know what to do except moan. Having the two men watch you made your entire body burn with desire. Your back arched, hands pressed flat on the wall, as you started meeting Changbin’s hips. None of you said anything. Han and Chan started stripping off their clothes, and the more they revealed, the hornier you became. 

“God, you’re leaking all over the place, YN-hyung,” Han said in a low voice, taking hold of your dripping cock. He swiped a bit of precum with his thumb to taste it. “You do taste good. Too good.” 

“Oh god…” was all you could say, mouth hanging open. 

“I was telling him he’s our team’s new butt,” said Changbin, stuffing himself to the brim. “Don’t you think so, Chan-hyung? His ass is as nice as yours, and naturally too.” 

“What does that mean?” Chan asked with a laugh, slapping Changbin’s backside. 

“He doesn’t have to do squats for it,” Han said, who began kissing at your neck. “Can you fuck me, hyung?” he asked you in your ear, “Hyunjin and Felix always talk about your dick. I want to ride it too.”

“Did your owner say you could?” asked Chan playfully, pushing hair back from your face. 

“Yes,” Han said defensively. “You can call and ask. YN’s part of the team now, so he said I could.”

“I don’t have to,” said Chan. “You’re the one he’s going to punish. Not me.” 

“Can you both shut the fuck up so I can fuck YN?” Changbin snapped, stopping a third time and driving you insane. 

“Are you having trouble concentrating, Binnie?” Chan teased, hand fondling Changbin’s ass. “I thought you’d be so into YN, you wouldn’t notice us right here next to you.”

“If you two would shut up for like two or three more minutes,” he said, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Two or three minutes?” Chan smirked. “I’ve seen you last longer than that. You don’t want to leave our newest member wanting because you can’t hold it.” 

“Fuck you,” he laughed through gritted teeth. “I’ve been horny all day, and then I have him looking so good in front of me…A slutty pretty boy who loves being fucked in public,” he gave your ass a few smacks, making you whimper and yelp in pleasure. “Isn’t that what you are, YN? A slut?” he yanked your head back and went faster, and you thought you might cum right then. When you did not answer, he slapped your ass again. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you cried at a few more spanks. “Yes, I am.”

The three members laughed, “Good,” said Han, going back to stroking your dick, “I’m a slut too. We can be sluts together.”

“And I love watching sluts get fucked,” Chan told you, pinching your nipple hard. “I love watching you get fucked,” he said in your ear, kissing the lobe before giving it a light tug with his teeth. “Let Changbin finish you off, cutie. I want to watch you cum the way you did last time.” 

Changbin kept the same speed, driving you mad with pleasure as the other two continued touching you both. Your moans and groans ricocheting off the shower walls, none of you caring if you’d be overheard. Balls slapping, hips meeting and hands smacking asses, you’re sure you were a delicious sight for a nearby Bangchan and Han. The latter steadily worked your dick for you, squeezing the tip and rubbing his palm over it until the sensitivity made you tremble. Chan worked your balls, reaching far enough to fondle them in his hand. You knew at this rate you’d spray cum all over the wall and floor. 

“You look so beautiful like this, YN-ie,” Changbing said so only you heard him, “All fucked out and desperate to cum. Be a good boy and cum for Channie-hyung. I know he’d like to see his precious boy cum all over himself.” He bottomed up into you, “I’ll be right behind you, baby. Go ahead and show them.” 

Eventually, your nails dug into your palms and your body started trembling. 

“There you go,” Chan said, “Go on. Cum for us. You can do it.”

“Shoot a big load for me,” said Han, licking up your neck as he moved his hand faster. “A nice thick, creamy one for me to lick off you.”  

Your entire body came at the mercy of your orgasm. Your back arched, giving Changbin a new angle, and your back went back. Hot cum leaked out of your tip, down your head to Han’s fingers. This didn’t stop him at all. All three men assaulted you with pleasure that prolonged your orgasm until you became too sensitive to handle it. Even then, the barrage did not stop. Han crouched down and did as he’d said: he gingerly and lightly licked up your cock, swallowing the bits on his tongue. You shuddered each time he passed over the head, the most sensitive spot that made your mind blank. 

“Trust me,” Chan said, “If you need a place to dump your load, Han’s your guy. He loves cum more than what should be allowed. I’m surprised we haven’t had to pump his stomach,” he chuckled softly, kissing your neck softly. 

“It’s yummy,” Han said, not denying the fact at all. “I like when it twitches in my mouth and throat; it makes me so hard so fast.” 

“Shut. Up,” grunted Changbin. “I’m-I-I’m alm-most there.” 

Finally, a distinct heat filled your own insides. It sprayed over your walls, and soon leaked down to your balls. Changbin’s loud groans could’ve been heard anywhere, but he didn’t care as he gripped your ass hard and pounded out his orgasm. The two of you took deep breaths, slumping against one another under the shower. Changbin kept you in his hold, not as tight but he kept you close. Neither of you spoke, and you felt yourself riding a whole new high. 

“How’d you feel, baby?” Changbin asked, kissing your cheek softly. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Ask me in a few hours,” you laughed, eyes closed as you basked in the glow. 

The four of you laughed, and you and Changbin rinsed one another off before leaving the stall together. Any stress from before had pumped itself out of you, and you felt light as a feather. While Han and Chan stayed in the shower, likely about to work on one another, you and Changbin left for the locker room. You forced yourself to dry off, knowing you’ll be properly washing at home, because your body screamed for rest. When you sat down to pull on socks and shoes, Changbin sat on the bench in front of you. 

“I told you he liked you,” said Changbin. “If he just wanted to screw you, he would’ve done it; not wait until it’s just you two to do it.” 

“He probably didn’t want to be rushed,” Sitting down proved to be a bad idea, and you quickly pulled on both your shoes. “Some guys can’t perform under pressure,” you grinned over at him. 

“It’s hard to concentrate with them talking so much,” he said, blushing and tapping your foot with his. 

“But you were talking too, hyung,” you laughed, grabbing your bag and following him out of the gym. 

“A bit of dirty talk isn’t a big deal, but I wanted to focus on getting you there,” he stopped by the door to plant a kiss on you. “I wanted you to cum as hard as you could, and I can’t do that if they’re yapping away.” 

The both of you laughed, sharing another kiss, before leaving the locker room. You climbed into Changbin’s car when you reached it, and you thought you might fall asleep in the passenger seat. You each decided a good lunch was in order, so Changbin drove to a place he loved. While you waited for your food at a pick up spot, your phone buzzed. 

‘You did great today,’ Chan’s message read. ‘In the studio and in the shower 😉 How’re you feeling?’

You squirmed from the butterflies in your stomach. 

‘We’re getting food, so I’ll likely be out of order for the rest of the day lol’ 

‘I know Innie keeps ice packs in your freezer, so I recommend using those haha Changbin is big in lots of ways.’ 

“He’s texting you, isn’t he?” Changbin asked, a teasing grin on his face. 

“He’s only checking on me.”

“Hmph, strange. He isn’t texting me to check on me.”

“You weren’t the bottom.”

“But I was there.” 

‘I still want to go over that song you’ve been working on. You haven’t shown it to me.’ 

‘I told you it’s not ready.’

‘But, you said you’re stuck on it. I could help you get it right. I love your music.’ 

“He loves your music, huh?”

“Changbin-hyung!” you put your phone to your chest. 

“He’s in love with you,” he said, picking up paper bags from the counter. “Just deal with it, and help me take this stuff to the car.” 

No way. Bangchan isn’t in love with you. 

He’s only being a good leader and friend. 

***

A/N: Gym sex with Changbin was far too good to pass up, huh? lol I hope you guys liked this one! Feel free to comment/reblog to let me know what you think! <3

[tiredandlonelymuse]

My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.

[buckyownsmylife]

out of the woods (chris evans x famous!reader smut)

the one where Chris watches an interview of you on the Ellen show

Warnings: mention of small stature in comparison to Chris, smut thoughts, Ellen Degeneres trash talking/thinking, cursing, mention of prescription medicine, talk of age gap (reader is younger than Chris), jacking off, daddy kink

WC: 3k

A/N: this doesn't really have an ending, so if you all like it, I might make a series out of it - the idea is that you are also famous (for acting, singing, writing) and have been friends with Chris but there's always this underlying tension between the two of you. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: no, he's not married in this story nor do I intend to feature Alba in any part of it whatsoever.

Chris’ P.O.V.

I was scrolling through Twitter when I realized some fans were tagging me in a short video of Y/N on Ellen DeGeneres’ show. I knew she had gone there by herself, mostly to promote her new album, but also to give some publicity for our movie, so I was aware that she would probably talk about me at least a bit… Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link to check the video for myself.

She looked gorgeous as always, her hair down in that way I loved so much and her skin seemed to be as soft as ever under the mini dress she chose to wear, her legs stretching out and making her look taller than she actually was. I chuckled, remembering just how small she looked by my side.

I remembered one time when I lifted her up, bridal style, and spun her around the pub we had close to the set, after the Patriots had won a game. Despite not understanding the game, she tagged along and celebrated every time I got excited, like the cute person that she was. I got so transfixed by her giggles back then. They were the sweetest sound and the only thing I heard, despite the fact that we were in the middle of a very loud bunch of dudes. 

I found myself imagining again, as I had then, what it would be like to have her under me, trapped by my arms in bed, or better yet, against a wall, only my thighs securing her in place while I made her moan with my touch. How would she sound? Or, better yet, how would she feel?

Christ. 

Shaking my head, I tried to gather my thoughts so as to not let them stray too far in that direction, something I didn’t have much success in doing, despite the fact that I had been practicing that simple habit every single day since I met her. But it was proving to be a nightmare. She was just far too tempting.

Shaking my head once more, I focused on the video in front of me. My heartbeat had sped up as soon as it started, but I tried to tell myself it was because I was scared for her, since I knew how Ellen could get invasive sometimes.

“So, Y/N…” She started, eyeing my co-star. “You have just finished working on a movie with someone we’re very familiar with, isn’t it?”

Y/N giggled, nodding at the blonde woman. “I suppose so. We have just finished the promotion for it, maybe you guys have already seen it?” She asked the crowd, who went nuts at her. It was sweet to see this kind of feedback, I truly believed in our movie and the fact that I got to know her was just an added bonus.

“For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, it’s called ‘Be Here Now’ and it’s currently in a theater near you. Y/N stars alongside Chris Evans, who we love so dearly here, and they play brother and sister as they try to reconnect after their parents' passing.”

More applause at that. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her idea of love. Last time I was there, she made me pretty uncomfortable, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“So, how was the process for you? We know you’re familiar with the filming process, since you star in your own series ‘Evermore’, that sent you to stardom, along with your songs, but you had said before you’d never act outside of it, since your true passion relies on music. What changed your mind?” Ellen sat back as she said that, already comfortable with the fact that something good would come out of this interview, since Y/N had been pretty vocal about what made her decide to do the movie, even with me.

“Chris did, actually. Or, in fact, the fact that he was cast in it.” A chorus of “aws” echoed around the room and there was no way to know if they were real or prompted, but they were quickly interrupted by the host.

“So, you were a fan?” She instigated, as to what Y/N nodded again.

“Of course. Well, my mom more than me, but I was the one who introduced his work to her, so…” She poked her tongue out at the camera, to which my heart (and my cock) jumped in response. “Ever since I got into this, when I first had the idea for Evermore with James, I told him time and time again I would never act outside of this, because I had no intention whatsoever on becoming an actress. I have always been in this for the music. Well, the writing. I’m a writer, I like writing scripts and songs, I’ve fallen into this performer thing by accident. But I’ve always been adamant about the fact that if I ever had the opportunity to act alongside Chris, I’d take it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t think I’m good enough. It didn’t even matter if the script was terrible, which thankfully wasn’t the case, I just really admire him and his work and I would never live with myself if I turned this opportunity down.”

Even though I knew most of this, I couldn’t help but to gloat at the fact that this incredible woman actually admired me. She was so much better than me in so many things, even acting, and she still thought I was great enough to get her to participate in a movie. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a little crush, that’s right?” And there it was. The coup. Of course. That evil wench…

“That’s what you took out of everything I said? Jesus, Ellen, has anyone ever told you that you listen like a man?” Ouch. That one was perfect. Being the ambassador for females and lesbians everywhere, it couldn’t not hurt her, especially coming from someone as angelical, sweet and universally-loved as Y/N. I appreciated the quick second her smile faltered before it became plastered on her again.

“No, I haven’t heard that before… But tell me, have you met any of the other Marvel actors? I mean, granted, there are a lot of them now, but especially those who have worked closely with Chris?” Y/N shrugged at that.

“I have been friends with Elizabeth Olsen for a very long time, we’re very close, but other than that, no. I haven’t had the chance to properly meet, or rather, hang out with any of them.”

“Who’s first on your list?”

“Anthony Mackie,” Y/N promptly responded, getting a few laughs and claps from the audience.

“My, you had that answer ready” Ellen teased, to which Y/N simply shrugged again. 

“We talk through social media sometimes and I know for a fact he’s hilarious. I hope we get to meet sometime. I might just have to bug Chris about it.” She had already, in fact. I couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other and I was already planning my next party just to be able to make that happen.

“What about Sebastian?” Ellen asked, a glinter of something extremely suspicious in her eyes.

“Sebastian Stan? No, we haven’t met, but I’d love to get the chance to someday. He seems extremely sweet and I know he’s very talented and Chris loves him, so I think it’s a matter of time until it happens.”

“I heard somewhere you had a bit of a crush on him, right? Even if you don’t admit that you have one on Chris?” This fucking woman. I could fucking kill her right now. But, to my surprise, Y/N simply laughed.

“Truly, you have got to check your hearing sometime soon, because that is absolutely false.” 

“Really?” Ellen pushed, to which Y/N beamed even brighter at her.

“Positive.” A beat as the two women stared at each other down. “I think what you meant is that I have had a huge crush on his character, Bucky Barnes.” Y/N explained, laughing at the host. “I admit that only happened after I saw Sebastian’s portrayal of him, but my attraction to a fictional character can’t be really connected to him.”

Ellen nodded, obviously not paying attention to anything she was just saying. “Well, let’s figure out who do you actually feel attracted to, shall we? Let’s play fuck, marry or kill!”

The audience screamed and, to my surprise, Y/N didn’t even blink, a patient smile painting her lips as she calmly watched the interviewer. “So, Y/N, between Anthony, Sebastian and Chris, who would you rather fuck, marry or kill?”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling at the older woman. “I couldn’t possibly answer truthfully to this question, Ellen, mostly because I am not capable of feeling carnal attraction to people I have never met, but I can 100% assure you that I would marry Chris without blinking twice if there was a choice.” 

My heart skipped a beat at her words. The crowd went crazy, obviously satisfied with the answer.

“And you’re sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Ellen’s eyes glistened with mischief, as she stared at the younger woman.

“Ellen, I think the question here is… Are you sure *you don’t have a crush on him?” The laughs from the audience was the last thing to come from the video before it stopped, and I found myself echoing them in the silent living room. Oh my, how I missed this girl.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my jean-clad thigh, looking around the room. I had been staying in Boston with my family for the last few weeks, since the movie premiered and we had finished promotion, and I had found myself constantly calling her to share funny stories from my nephews or to hear about her day. I knew she wanted to meet my family, she had always said she admired the fact that we were so close, despite there being so many of us.

My mom obviously loved her, having been a fan of hers long before I even heard about her existence. So what if…? 

Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call in the name of the woman I had been thinking about. The phone rang three times before she picked up, stopping me from giving up on this crazy idea.

“Hey, Chris! How are you? I missed talking to you, it’s so weird seeing you everyday for four months and then suddenly not at all anymore.” I know I was literally forty, but I literally melted at this girl’s words.

“Did you now? Is that because you wish we were married, so we could see each other everyday?” Her breath hitched as she realized I had seen the video and I could just imagine the cute little embarrassed expression she was probably sporting right now. I tried to ignore the fact that my words and tone of speaking had suddenly become way too similar to when I was flirting with a girl.

“Fuck, you saw the interview.” I had never heard Y/N curse before, so the fact that I suddenly had no control over my mouth could be explained by the unavailability of blood in my head, since it had all gone south.

“Come stay with me for a while,” I spilled suddenly. Silence was the only answer I got from the other side of the call and my heart sped up in a way that only happened when I was truly anxious. I was already cursing myself out for scaring the poor girl when she finally answered.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper. It was obvious how vulnerable she was feeling, and a sense of overprotectiveness overcame me. “Please don’t joke about this, Evans. This better not be a prank. ‘Cause I really do miss you a lot.”

Fuck indeed. There was no way something good would come out of this idea, but there was no way I would go back either.

“Of course I’m being serious. Come to Boston. You can stay with me, but I think my mom is going to steal you before you even settle in.” A large breath came from the other side.

“Okay. Okay! I’m going to pack my bags. Yay! I’m so excited!” She was clearly jumping up and down with the perspective of what was to come, and I couldn’t help the smile that painted my lips not only at her cuteness, but also due to my own excitement at her arrival. 

“Great! I’ll be waiting.” My heartbeat still hadn’t gotten back to a normal speed. “Text me the details of your arrival, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” I knew what she meant. If someone caught sight of us together at the airport, or even the fact that she was here in Boston, all hell would break loose in the press.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.” I froze, only then realizing what I had just called her. A few seconds ticked by while I silently freaked out, wondering how I could brush this over, when she intervened.

“Thanks, Chris. That was pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I just might forgo my prescription medicine while I’m over there, because you’ve been able to completely relax me with just two sentences.” She giggled and if I was at first leaning towards thinking she was sarcastically teasing me, just by the nature of her words, the tone of her voice made it clear that she actually meant what she had just said.

Once again, I was at a loss for words, especially because I couldn’t help but to allow myself to imagine that this was her, flirting with me a little bit. The blood I so desperately needed in my brain had once again left to pump another organ full of life. I was saved from having to answer, though, as Y/N quickly wrapped up the conversation.

“I’ll text you the details of my flight in a little bit. See you soon, angel.” She hung up before I could process the nickname she had given me. 

“Fucking hell,” I whispered, finally relenting and getting up from the couch to take a shower to rub one off.

I had found myself in this situation more times than usual after meeting Y/N. Normally, I’d only do it out of boredom, preferring to fuck someone whenever I’d get sexually frustrated. But the last few times I had taken girls from parties into my bedroom, I could only see her. Y/N. And I hated how disgusting I felt after it was done, the fact that I didn’t care about the girl I just fucked and the fact that I imagined my younger friend.

So now I resorted to this kind of activity. As the warm water started to hit my body, I allowed my right hand to travel the extent of my body until I found my hardened member. “Fuck,” I found myself whispering into the bathroom as I tugged on my cock. Images that I had spent a lot of time concocting in my head flashed in front of me, all of them starred by Y/N. 

I imagined her nude body here with me, under the falling water. How her breasts would heave with every breath she took. Would she be as filled with desire for me as I was for her? I imagined the path the warm droplets of water would run across her skin and how I wished I could lick its remnants. 

Maybe she’d fall to her knees before me, looking up from under her eyelashes with that coy expression that drove me crazy. Her lips would softly kiss the tip of my cock and she’d still be watching me, analyzing my reactions. I would do my best to restrain myself, allowing her to get accustomed to my member, but my hands would eventually find their way to her wet strands, creating a makeshift ponytail that would facilitate my vision of her work while I still managed to control myself and not use it to guide her.

She’d kiss the skin all around my cock, quick little kisses just to tease me before going further down to suck on my balls. I’d throw my head back, begging her to do what I needed, and she’d finally succumb, wrapping her lips around my tip before slowly sucking further down my dick. She’d be relentless, eventually being able to swallow my whole member down her throat, and I would look down again to see her looking up at me with a proud gaze in her eyes.

“Such a good girl,” I would whisper, just before I finally snapped, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock until just the tip remained tightly squeezed by her lips, until I pushed her all the way against me again. “Take this fucking cock like the little perfect girl you are for daddy.”

And she’d take it like a pro, a satisfied smile on her lips as I fucked her mouth, eventually breaching into her throat, making her gasp for air, tears in her eyes as her hands flew to my hips in an attempt to slow me down. But she wouldn’t really, opting for simply carving her nails on my flesh as she took every single rope of cum I’d deposit between her eager lips.

Fuck. I let the water wash away the sin I had just committed while sending up a prayer for better control when Y/N arrived. The last thing I needed was to be stuck in the bathroom, touching myself while she was at my house.

[moonxytcn]

Heyyy (btw before I request anything ur writing is literally pure GOLD) anyways could u write about how the reader and billie have always been friends since childhood up to her newest album hit me hard and soft. Billie is on tour and the reader always finds a way to get front row tickets to her bestfriends shows. A few days before tour started the reader posted a TikTok with billie lying across her lap on the sofa. In the comments there was lots of speculation about a flirty friendship (behind closed doors the reader and billie both knew that was true). A few days later Billie was performing in LA. An hour or so into the show billie starts singing ‘Billie Bossa Nova’ from her album happier than ever. When it gets to the lyrics “nobody saw me in the lobby…𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬” Billie gave a smirk to the crowd instantly locking eyes with the reader and winking knowing full well that due to that TikTok posted a few days before, EVERYBODY saw her in your arms.

Nobody saw me in your arms

| Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – Billie and you finally talk about how you feel after years of hidden feelings and fan speculation

warnings – fluffy

a/n – heyyy thank you so much for the request!! hope you like it

| English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

| Masterlist —✽— Pinned Post

   ㅤ✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

–––

Billie’s voice echoes through the packed venue, the energy in the room palpable as she performs each song with the intensity and emotion that only she can bring. You’ve always been amazed at how she can captivate an audience, how she can make every single person in the room feel like she’s singing directly to them. But tonight, as you stand front row, the bass reverberating through your chest, you know that, for at least one song, she really is singing to you.

It’s been like this for as long as you can remember. From the time you were kids, Billie had a way of drawing people in. You still remember the days when she’d sneak into your room with a mischievous grin, her hair dyed some new, vibrant color, and a guitar slung over her shoulder. Back then, it was just the two of you, making up songs and laughing until your sides hurt. You’d listen to her dreams of becoming a star, and though you always believed in her, it was hard to imagine the tiny spark of a girl next door turning into the powerhouse standing on stage tonight.

You’ve been by her side through it all. From those early, impromptu jam sessions in your living room to the first time she played in front of a real crowd, you’ve watched her grow into the artist she is today. And no matter how big she’s gotten, how many millions of fans scream her name, she’s always made sure you were right there with her.

When Billie’s latest album, 'Hit Me Hard and Soft', dropped, you were one of the first people to hear it. She’d sent you the demos before the rest of the world even knew it existed, nervously biting her lip as she waited for your reaction. Of course, you loved it. How could you not? The album was everything she was—bold, vulnerable, raw, and beautiful. It was a testament to everything she’d been through, and everything you’d gone through together.

But of all the songs she has ever made, one has caught her attention. 'Billie Bossa Nova' was different from the rest, and when you first heard it, your heart skipped a beat. The lyrics were sultry, teasing, full of secrets whispered behind closed doors. You recognized yourself in the song, in the way Billie’s voice dipped and softened, in the way she played with the words like they were meant just for you. And you knew, in that moment, that your friendship had never been just a friendship.

You never talked about it—not really. Sure, there had been moments, stolen glances, lingering touches, that said more than words ever could. But neither of you wanted to ruin what you had. The connection between you was too special, too rare to risk by putting a label on it. So you kept it quiet, hidden behind the walls of inside jokes and childhood memories.

But a few days before the tour kicked off, something changed. You’d posted a TikTok of the two of you lounging on your sofa, Billie sprawled across your lap, her head resting comfortably against your chest. It was an innocent video, just a moment of you two being you, but the comments quickly exploded with speculation. People saw what was between you, even if you hadn’t fully admitted it to yourselves. The rumors of a "flirty friendship" spread like wildfire, with fans dissecting every interaction, every glance, every smile.

Billie had laughed it off when you showed her, her eyes twinkling with that familiar, mischievous glint. "Let them talk", she’d said, and you both agreed to keep it under wraps, to keep the world guessing.

And now, here you are, in the middle of her sold-out LA show, and you can feel the anticipation building. The setlist is winding down, and you know 'Billie Bossa Nova' is coming. You’ve been to every show so far on this tour, using every connection you have to secure front-row tickets. It's become your little tradition, a way to remind her that no matter how big her world gets, you'll always be there, front and center.

The lights dim, and the crowd hushes as the familiar, sultry beat of 'Billie Bossa Nova' starts to play. Billie steps to the edge of the stage, her gaze scanning the audience, and you can feel your heart start to race. You know this moment is for you.

As she sings, her voice dripping with honeyed tones, she sways to the rhythm, her eyes locking with yours. The crowd disappears, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you, sharing a secret that no one else can touch. Then she gets to the line that makes your breath hitch every time: "Nobody saw me in the lobby…" She pauses for a beat, and you see the corner of her mouth quirk up in a playful smirk. "…nobody saw me in your arms."

And then she winks.

It’s quick, almost imperceptible to anyone not paying attention, but you catch it. Your stomach flips, a rush of warmth spreading through you as you realize what she’s just done. With that one simple gesture, she’s acknowledged everything. The TikTok, the rumors, the truth behind closed doors. She’s letting you know that she remembers, that she sees you, and that she’s just as affected as you are.

The crowd erupts into cheers, but you barely hear them. Your eyes are glued to Billie, your heart pounding as she finishes the song, still holding your gaze. When the final note fades, she blows a kiss to the audience, and you know that it’s meant for you.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur, your mind stuck on that moment, on the way she made you feel like the only person in the world. When the show finally ends, and the lights come up, you make your way backstage, your pulse racing with anticipation.

Billie’s waiting for you, her face flushed with the afterglow of the performance. "So." She says, a teasing lilt in her voice as she leans against the wall, "how’d you like the show?"

You roll your eyes, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. "You know I loved it."

"Good." She replies, her eyes sparkling. "Because that little wink? It was just for you."

Your breath catches as she steps closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "Billie, about that TikTok—" You start, but she cuts you off with a soft laugh.

"Don’t worry about it." She says, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Let them talk, remember?"

"But…" You hesitate, unsure of how to put everything you’re feeling into words. "But what if we want more than just letting them talk?"

She’s quiet for a moment, her expression softening as she reaches out to take your hand. "Then maybe it’s time we stop hiding." She says gently. "We’ve been dancing around this for years, and I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?"

You nod, your heart swelling with relief and something deeper, something that’s been building between you for as long as you can remember. "Yeah." You whisper, squeezing her hand. "I’m tired of pretending too."

Billie smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. "Good." She says, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home. "Because I want you in my life—front row, center stage—where you belong."

As you hold each other, the noise of the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you again, just like it’s always been. But this time, there are no more secrets, no more hiding. Just the truth, out in the open, for everyone to see.