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7-deadly-cats · 10 days ago

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killing me softly | 22

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, kinda horny!reader lmfao, anxiety and overthinking, long-ass dialogue, kinda angsty, but your patience will be rewarded at the end

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ in the morning, you replayed yesterday's events and realized rafe actually liked you (shocking, honestly). on the ride to school, the convo shifted to family and relationships. rafe surprised you positively with his views. art class was canceled, so during the free period, you talked about the ruthie situation. rafe suggested hitting up gracie and asking her to delete the video, but you shut that down. instead, he helped you study for your math test. at lunch, your friend group talked about the gloaming. kelce had already asked molly out, and it was pretty clear they were trying to make rafe jealous or push him to ask you out too. topper even suggested you could go with rob since he was still in town. walking to english with kelce, you found out rafe briefly surfed in sixth grade just to beat topper, and that kelce was his first friend after he’d beat rafe up. during class, rafe tried asking you out to the gloaming via text, but you turned him down, asking for more effort (even though you were freaking out inside). after school, you hung out with cara. she didn’t get why you and rafe weren’t just dating. you said you needed time to adjust. later at home, rafe called and said he’d pick you up and when you pushed him about his convo with his dad, he finally hinted he needed you to act like molly aka all lovestruck.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 13.6k+ (not me saying this ch would be shorter help)

✿ A / N ✿ ok half of the ch. is the convo about ward and rafe's discussion but this convo was needed for you guys to understand what's going on so there really was no way to skip this. i also know they talked A LOT about A LOT of stuff so hope things make sense still (feel free to ask for clarity if sth's confusing), enjoy and pls lmk your thoughts <3 xx ᓚᘏᗢ

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REMINDER avoid the comment section till you're done reading

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W E E K T W O // M O N D A Y

4 : 0 6 P M

"You still there?"

NO.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, letting out a tense little chuckle. Too overwhelmed to say anything else.

Because what. the. fuck. did he mean by I kinda need you to do the same?! WHAT.

After a short pause, Rafe let out a heavy exhale. “Shit, I told you I should tell you this in person. I can feel your little minions panicking through the phone.”

Your heart was racing so fast you couldn’t even—WHAT DID HE MEAN BY THAT.

Act like Molly? For what? And why? AND HOW DID HE COME TO THAT CONCLUSION? Like, what the actual fuck had him and his dad talked about? This was just—

“Y/n?”

Your heart skipped a beat hearing him say your name. So soft and gentle. That was…OH MY GOD. That was like the first time he’d ever addressed you like that in an actual conversation.

Oh great, ahahahhha, yeah, that only worsened your state of mind. Nerves were buzzing under your skin and your hands felt so clammy you had to fight the urge to rush to the bathroom and wash the panic right off.

Instead, you just sat there in your desk chair, phone held to your ear, staring blankly into the void, trying to drown out the flood of theories threatening to crash over you like a heavy, dark wave.

“Okay, fuck, listen,” he said after you didn’t respond, voice tight with frustration, yet laced with softness. “I’ll be there soon and I’ll explain everything, alright? Don’t spiral over this shit now, okay? It’s really not that deep.”

A second later, he added, “Sound good?”

You only registered about half of what he’d said and nodded absentmindedly. Your voice distant when you finally gave a quiet “Yeah,” mind still spinning around those eight little words he’d said a moment ago.

Another sigh from his end. Then: “Or do you want me to come over right away? It’s just” a light laugh escaped him, “I should really shower first. Just got home from a heavy workout and…it’s just twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be quick.”

Not even the image of Rafe in the shower could pull you out of the mental spiral your brain had sent you on.

“Okay,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips—an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Okay,” Rafe echoed, not sounding convinced at all. “Just chill out, alright? I’ll see you in a bit.”

You nodded (momentarily forgetting he couldn’t see you), and as soon as the call ended, you let your phone drop into your lap, gaze still fixed on a random spot ahead.

Chill out?

Yeah. Yeah! You were totally chill. Completely relaxed. Absolutely calm.

AT LEAST YOU HAD BEEN UNTIL RAFE HAD DROPPED THOSE EIGHT LITTLE WORDS THAT HINTED AT GOD KNOWS WHAT.

I kinda need you to do the same.

WHAT.

He mentioned Molly before that—talking about how she was acting like she’d chugged a love potion—and WHAT. So did that mean...?

DID HE WANT YOU TO ACT LIKE THAT TOO? AND WHY? LIKE WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN THE LAST FEW HOURS THAT MADE HIM THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?

That was—no way. No fucking way he meant it like that. Hah. Yeah, no.

Probably just him joking around again or...

OR WHAT EXACTLY. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Your heart was fucking pounding, your adrenaline shot through the roof and your nerves? Felt like a thousand bees humming underneath your skin, all anxious and buzzing around with nowhere to go.

Okay, no. Calm down. Rafe said he’d be here soon and he’d explain. Everything would make sense then, right?

Yeah. Perfect. You just needed to survive twenty whole minutes—alone—with a brain that currently felt like it was trying to murder you.

I can handle this :)

NO THE FUCK I CAN’T HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

You got up from your chair, your phone slipping off your lap as you wiped your clammy hands on your clothes, desperately trying to shake off this panic.

WHY WERE YOU EVEN FREAKING OUT?

It’s Rafe. Whatever plan/idea/suggestion/whatfuckingever he had, he would never force you into something that made you uncomfortable. He always made sure you felt safe and relaxed around him.

Somehow, that thought helped you breathe a little easier.

Okay. Best thing to do now? Distract yourself. Get ready. Change into a new outfit and—

Bzzrt.

Your phone buzzed on the wooden floor and you already knew who it was.

Now would be a great time to actually jump off a cliff.

Why the hell had you accidentally clicked on the wrong fucking pic in the worst fucking moment ever? And why the fuck was Rafe texting you from the goddamn shower? AND WHY WAS HE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT GETTING OFF—LIKE? OKAY. DO IT. BUT LEAVE ME OUT OF IT OMFG.

You let out a long exhale and placed your phone back on your desk.

Great.

Now the panic from earlier was replaced by very vivid mental images of Rafe in the shower.

Water running down his toned body; from his damp hair falling over his forehead, over his cute lashes and beautiful lips, to his neck and Adam’s apple; down his broad shoulders and collarbones, his chest and stomach—tiny droplets tracing the lines of his abs—and even lower, over HIS V-LINE AND THIGHS AND—

You gulped, feeling how your breath had quickened just a little, eyes wide and your face so flushed it felt like your entire body was on fire just from thinking about Rafe like that.

HIM TEXTING YOU LIKE THIS, THOUGH. MEANING HE HAD BEEN THINKING ABOUT YOU IN THAT MOMENT TOO AND OH MY GOD.

A tingling sensation bloomed in your stomach, a faint little desire stirring down there, and suddenly it was really hard to think about anything else.

SHITSHITSHITSHIT.

HELP I’M NO BETTER THAN HIM.

For a split second, your eyes flicked to your bed. You still had like fifteen minutes and the thoughts were already there, sooo—NO.

OH MY GOD, NO!

JESUS.

GET A GRIP, GIRL. HOLY SHIT.

Although…it could help ease the anxiety and distress you felt just right now.

BUT THE THOUGHT OF FACING RAFE AFTERWARD, KNOWING WHAT YOU'D DONE BEFORE MADE YOU SOBER UP REAL FUCKING FAST.

Embarrassment spread like wildfire through your entire body as you tried to shake the thoughts off. Something about doing that during the day just felt so weird anyway. Better just forget about this entirely HAHAHAHAH.

OKAY!

SO.

Getting ready it is :)

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“Fuck that, move that shit right back inside.” Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat to look at you standing by the passenger door.

You were holding the box filled with stuff for your project you had taken home today.

“What? No,” you replied, clearly irritated, nerves still shaken, and a little thrown off by how good he looked with that damp hair falling into his forehead. “I thought we were going to the copy shop today.”

You needed to reprint your collage pieces in a larger format, otherwise, you weren't able to keep working on your project. And it had to be finished by Thursday.

Rafe grimaced. “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” He made a shooing gesture. “We’ll do it tomorrow. We’ve got the whole afternoon for that.”

“What if I’m not free tomorrow?” you asked, raising a brow at him, even though you knew damn well you had nothing planned except maybe hanging out with Cara.

He nodded, brows shooting up in response. “You’re not free, because we’ll be working on the shitty-ass project then.” Another shooing gesture. “Seriously, I don’t have the fucking headspace for school shit right now. And judging by how you reacted earlier, neither do you.”

Okay, he kinda had a point but…

“I’d say we at least throw it in the back,” you said, nodding toward the back of his black Benz. “And if we get a sudden burst of motivation, we can still swing by a copy shop.”

Rafe frowned but nodded. “Aight. Toss it on the back seats, trunk’s full.”

Either a corpse or some dumb boy shit.

“Okay, how about you get out and help me then?” you said, voice a little too sharp-edged.

HELP. The panic was creeping back in.

Rafe scoffed, clearly amused as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “You don’t handle stress well.”

YOU’RE THE REASON I’M STRESSED, you wanted to scream, but instead, you just pressed your lips shut, waiting for him to finally get out and open one of the back doors for you.

“Give me that shit,” he said, grabbing the box from your hands and literally chucking it onto the backseat.

“What?” he asked, catching your deadpan expression. He nodded toward your (hopefully still intact) project. “It’s just paper and crap. It’s not like it’s gonna break.”

Your expression didn’t budge. “You don’t handle stress well either.”

Rafe raised a brow (GOD he smelled insane up close) and motioned toward the car. “Shut up and get in.”

For a moment, you held his gaze, sternly. But THIS FUCKER HAD THE AUDACITY TO LOOK AT YOUR LIPS for half a second before that stupid little smirk formed and he nudged you toward the passenger door. “C’mon.”

This guy had zero restraints.

As soon as you got in, he closed the door behind you with a soft thud. And instantly, your stomach twisted again at the looming conversation ahead.

Whatever he says… however he explains those earlier words… I will not panic.

HAHAHA TOO LATE.

You clutched your purse tightly, palms already sweaty again, and waited for him to settle into his seat.

As soon as the engine started, the silence was replaced by the low hum of the motor and some Future song that kicked in mid-track.

Rafe turned the volume down a little and pulled out of your driveway, driving way slower and more focused than usual. You chalked it up to nerves (drumming fingers usually meant he was agitated, stressed, or anxious—or honestly all three).

“So, had a nice evening with Hall?” he asked, voice a little too casual, eyes straight ahead.

You shot him a blank look.

Nope. You hadn’t waited 35 minutes just to watch him skirt around the topic.

“Yeah,” you said sharply, fingers fiddling with the charm on your bracelet. “So… what did you and your dad actually talk about?”

Rafe chuckled. “Straight to business then.”

“Well, yeah. I’m still waiting for an explanation,” you said, your voice already tenser than intended. “What did you mean by ‘I need to act like Molly’?”

He shook his head with another chuckle. “Not like Molly. I don’t need you to impersonate her or shit like that.”

“Then what?” you asked impatiently, already dreading the answer.

“Like I said, I was only referring to her—”

“Rafe, I swear, if you keep dancing around it,” you cut in, heart pounding in your ears, “I’m gonna lose it.”

AND THIS IDIOT LAUGHED AGAIN. YEAH, REAL FUNNY GETTING ME TO STRESS THE FUCK OUT.

“Okay, okay,” he said, lips twitching into a smirk as he glanced at you for a second. “But you gotta promise me you won’t freak out, alright? At least let me explain first.”

THEN DON'T KEEP ME ON EDGE, YOU ASSHOLE.

wow, girl, maybe ease up a bit, yeah?

You pressed your lips together and gave a reluctant nod. “I’ll try.”

Rafe slowed to a stop at a red light, the sun awkwardly glaring into your eyes.

You pulled down the sun visor and braced yourself for whatever was coming.

It’s fine. Probably nothing too crazy. Yeah, you definitely overreacted earlier. It’s probably—

“I kinda told my dad we’re dating.”

bye.

ciao.

sayonara.

auf wiedersehen.

FUCKING ADIOS.

WHAT?!???

You just blinked at him, completely stunned, because you had no clue how to react or what to say. Your heart sprinting in every direction, blood pressure skyrocketing.

Rafe smiled crookedly at your expression. “You good?”

You instinctively shook your head. “Yeah.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you said, trying very hard to sound calm. You shook your head again, brows furrowed. “What—I mean, why would you say that?”

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, DID IT MEAN SOMETHING? DID THIS IMPLY ANYTHING?

Rafe’s brows twitched and his smile wavered slightly, like you’d unintentionally insulted him. He shrugged, eyes back on the still-red light. “He started talking some crap about responsibility and how I couldn’t even keep a girl and shit like that.”

His brow furrowed, fingers freezing on the steering wheel. He gestured to his chest, locking eyes with you again. “Look, I panicked, okay? I needed to win that argument and prove him wrong, so I said that shit.” Now his hand motioned toward you. “And you were the first one coming to mind, because… I mean, we get along and stuff, and we’ve been hanging out a lot lately, so I even had proof of our ‘relationship.’”

He let out a tight chuckle, shoulders rising. “I mean, even Sarah and Wheezie think we’ve got something going on, so it was the best thing I could come up with in that moment."

JESUS CHRIST.

This… explained literally nothing. If anything, it just worsened your panic.

The light turned green and the car started moving again, Rafe’s eyes back on the road.

“Trust me, I didn’t say that to drag you into anything. And definitely not to ruin our friendship just after three days,” he said, voice edging toward frustration now. “I just… I knew he was right about what he said and I had no other way to turn it around.” His eyes flicked to yours again. “This was my only shot at gaining some ground.”

You didn’t even want to imagine what Ward had said to corner him that badly. The thought of it alone—the words he must’ve thrown at his son—was enough to shrink your anxiety down a notch.

But those eight little words still lingered between you. Not quite fitting this situation yet.

You shoved them aside, focusing on the bigger issue here: the outcome of that conversation with his dad.

“So… did it work?” you asked. “Getting him to reconsider the deal I mean”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and somehow that was all you needed to know.

Shit.

It had been a lost cause anyway but still, this would’ve been the easiest route to pull him out of this shitshow of a situation.

“He won’t take it,” Rafe said flatly, staring ahead. “But I will.”

You blinked, completely stunned. “What?”

Rafe grimaced and nodded. “I offered to take the deal instead.” He let out a heavy breath. “Told him I finally wanted to follow in his footsteps, get into business and shit like that, show him I could handle responsibility.”

The fact that he even felt like he had to prove anything to his dad of all people—it just fueled this deep disgust and anger toward that man even further.

God, and now Rafe wanted to take the damn deal himself? Why hadn’t he talked to you about this? Why did he think this was a good idea? Selling more of himself to Ruthie’s grasp.

“C’mon, say something.”

You snapped your head away from the blank spot you’d been zoning out on, locking eyes with his.

There it was. He wanted your approval.

But you couldn’t give him that.

“I…” you began, struggling to word it without making him feel attacked. “Why didn’t you bring this up at school today? I thought we were handling this together.”

Shit. Why were you angry now? You shouldn’t be mad.

Rafe nodded with a frown, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit, I know, okay? Of course I would’ve talked it through with you if I didn’t just fucking blurt it out during that stupid conversation.”

Great. So he’d panicked and just dug himself deeper into this mess.

But no need to dwell on that now. He needed solutions, not someone to scold him for being impulsive. Especially since he already seemed to know it had been a stupid idea.

“And your dad?” you asked softly, eyeing his sharp profile. “What did he say?”

Rafe shook his head slightly, his scowl deepening as he shrugged. “He agreed.”

HUH.

You shook your head in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, I dunno," he said just as clueless, scratching his chin. "It was a lot of back and forth, but in the end I managed to convince him to think about it."

You frowned. "So he didn’t actually agree?"

"Not yet," Rafe said. "He needs some time to think it through and—"

"Rafe, you do realize we only have until the Gloaming," you cut in, trying to suppress your frustration at yet another hurdle.

Instead of using the time to come up with a different approach, now you were stuck in... whatever this situation was supposed to be.

“Shit, I know that, alright?” Rafe snapped, letting out a sharp exhale. But the moment he met your eyes, his expression softened. “But this is the only real chance I’ve got to get out of this fucked-up situation, okay?”

Only he was forgetting the most important issue here.

"Ruthie wants your dad to take the deal," you reminded him calmly, lightly shaking your head. "Not you."

To your surprise, he only scoffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth turning into a lopsided smile. “Here’s the thing: my dad wants to sign the deal in his name.” His grin widened. “He even offered to take over seventy percent of the investment needed for the project and I take over the rest.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a trap. His dad refusing the deal only to sign it for Rafe in his name? That just seemed... off.

“Let’s assume he agrees—where’s the catch?” you asked, already feeling an uneasy knot twist in your stomach.

Rafe furrowed his brows. “There’s no fucking catch.”

“Obviously there’s a freaking catch if he suddenly decides to sign the deal under these circumstances.”

“Yeah, because I suggested it.”

You blinked. “And he just... agreed?”

He nodded, turning the car onto a side road toward some grove. “Told him if he’s so scared of me screwing this up, he should put his name on the deal but let me handle the business side.” One hand tapped his chest, the other stayed on the wheel. “Gives me all the more reason not to fuck it up. And if I prove myself, he can transfer his part of the agreement into my name. That way he gets to lean back while Cameron Development expands into an affiliated company.”

A scowl crossed his face as he made a dismissive gesture. “And I also told him this option lets him pass it on to Sarah if he decides she’s better suited for it.”

That was... actually really well thought out, especially for something he’d apparently freestyled on the spot. And even bringing up Sarah seemed smart, if what he always said was true and she was Ward’s favorite.

“And I told him best make the decision till the Gloaming,” Rafe continued, the car shifting down a gear on the uneven road. “Because that fuckass event is the perfect opportunity to announce something like this. Bring attention back to Cameron Development and make his stance on the whole shitty-ass deal clear before Whitmore does.”

He tapped his chest again, brows raised. “That we’re the investors. Without our money, this entire project wouldn’t even be possible. Whitmore’s just the guy offering the land, nothing more. Doesn’t fucking matter what’s stated on paper.”

Holy fucking shit, and he'd come up with all of that on the spot? Under that kind of pressure and in front of his dad, no less? And even got him to CONSIDER those terms?

Fuck, that was...

So fucking hot.

Like... you didn’t even know WHY. It was just the fact that he could use his brain for something good if he actually wanted to, stand up for himself in front of his dad, and take actual responsibility and—

I’M STARING AT HIS ARMS AGAIN HELP.

You quickly averted your gaze, and thank god he hadn’t caught you drooling over him again.

BACK TO THE TOPIC, GIRL.

“That actually sounds kinda promising,” you finally said, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you saw how Rafe’s features immediately softened.

Big blue eyes gazed at you for a second. “You think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean, although it’s kinda what Ruthie ultimately wanted, so it’s like letting her win, but right now this might actually be our best shot.”

A big smile spread across Rafe’s lips. “I know. And my dad actually sounded impressed by the idea.”

You hated Ward Cameron so much for the fact that his son was this happy about selling his soul to such a shitty deal just to finally gain his approval.

And your heart clenched at what you were about to say.

“But,” you started carefully, already watching his expression drop, “I’m not sure if you fully understand what you’re getting into if this deal actually happens. I mean, aside from the fact that it’s not just Ruthie’s dad who needs to agree that you—a boy barely finished with high school—are the one making this deal, Ruthie also has to accept these terms.”

You furrowed your brows, noticing how his jaw clenched. “This may be close to what she wanted, but it’s not truly what she demanded. She asked for your dad, not you.” You quickly shook your head as he scowled. “No, I’m not questioning whether you could run a project like this, okay? Actually, I’m pretty sure if given enough time, this could turn into a solid opportunity for you.”

Your gaze softened as the car came to a stop under the shadow of some oak trees. “But you’re still young, Rafe. Please don’t think I’m doubting you, it’s just... this isn’t some side hustle. Running a subsidiary company is not a hobby, it’s... I mean, what about your future? If you ever want to go to college, this could be a massive burden, and,” you raised your brows, voice laced with genuine concern, “what if Whitmore screws you over? If he’s anything like Ruthie, he might do everything he can to push you out of the company the moment the deal's sealed.”

Rafe just stared straight ahead, head resting back against the seat, hands still gripping the lower part of the steering wheel, even though the car was parked.

Your heart twisted painfully at his empty expression.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began, but he shook his head, making a dismissive motion with his hand.

“It’s my only chance,” he said, his voice laced with a gut-wrenching emptiness as he stared at a blank spot ahead. “I don’t have plans for after high school. So this might be my only opportunity to get into business. You know, build something, work alongside my dad, prove myself, and finally do something meaningful for once.”

This sounded way too much like ‘I’m not good enough, so now I have to settle for the next best option otherwise I will stay a disappointment,’ and your heart broke all over again at how exhausted he sounded.

You exhaled quietly through your nose and eyed his sharp profile. “But is that what you really want? You shouldn’t sell yourself short just to prove something. And if you think there’s no other way out of Ruthie’s blackmail—”

“I can’t back out now,” he said, turning to look at you, desperation and sadness glimmering in his eyes. “I already brought this up to my dad. If I puss out now,” he shook his head, face twisting into a bitter grimace, “he’ll write me off for good. This isn’t just my chance to get out of this fucked-up blackmail, it’s also my shot at proving my dad that I’m not just the loser he thinks I am.”

Your heart cracked again, aching for this broken boy whose only real goal seemed to be to finally feel accepted and wanted, like that was the only way he knew how to exist. Chasing approval like he needed someone else to tell him how much he was actually worth.

“You’re not a loser, Rafe,” you said firmly, holding his tired gaze. “And you don’t need your dad—or anyone else—to tell you that. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.”

Rafe shook his head weakly, tapping his chest with one hand. “Look at me? He’s right, I’m fucking fucked-up. Always causing him trouble and I barely even manage high school. How the fuck am I supposed to go to college?”

“You’re not an easy person, there’s no sugarcoating that”, you replied, gently, “but your grades don’t define who you are. There’s so much more about you.” You shook your head, smiling softly. “You’re smart, observant, adaptable, and quick-thinking. You pick up on things faster than anyone else I know. I mean, you always know when I start to spiral and you usually manage to defuse it almost immediately. It took Cara months to learn how to read me. You did it in a week.”

You chuckled softly, heart thumping a little faster at your next words. “And you have this weird skill... like, you know exactly how to brighten my day or make me laugh—even if it’s through your stupid, sexually charged pics—and you always make me feel like I...” you shook your head, smiling sheepishly, “like I’m special. And,” you laughed nervously, cheeks warming, “what I’m trying to say is, never let anyone define your worth. Not your dad, your teachers, your friends or anyone else. What someone thinks about you doesn’t reflect who you actually are.”

Your fingers traced the shape of your heart-shaped charm. “Though I do believe it’s true when I say you’re more than enough. As for me, I’m really grateful to get to call someone like you my friend.” A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “Even if it’s just day three of our friendship.”

Oh, god.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. That basically felt like a confession even though all you did was speak the truth about how much he meant and—

OH NO.

NONONONO.

He looked so shaken now. So deeply gutted and overwhelmed, it felt like last night all over again.

This broken boy in front of you, usually so full of anger and energy, now just looking exhausted and empty. And it felt like the wound in your heart was ripped open all over again, this time even deeper.

His pretty blue eyes stared at you with uncertainty and disbelief, like he couldn’t allow himself to trust your words, like all you were doing was feeding him lies.

And, oh my god, no.

There was a shimmer in his eyes that looked like he was desperately trying to hide from breaking loose.

OKAY NO. IF RAFE STARTED CRYING IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU’D CRY TOO AND JUST—NOPE.

And because you didn’t know what else to say, you just quickly shook your head, brows furrowing. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t—”

“Nah,” Rafe said, letting out a broken little chuckle as he shifted in his seat, brushing the back of his hand over his teary eyes and rubbed at his nose, masking a sniff. Then he leaned back again, fingers fidgeting with the golden ring on his left hand. “You’re good at saying the right shit at the right time. That’s a skill.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or breathe out in relief and somehow you did both. “I... yeah, I think I got that from my dad.”

Rafe nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah, that’s... I appreciate it.”

Your pulse quickened, and when the smile faded from his face, replaced by a stern profile, you found yourself holding your breath for whatever he was about to say.

“And I also appreciate you sticking around even though you could’ve left,” he said, meeting your eyes again, something soft flashing through his gaze making your heart ache. “I mean not just last night. This whole,” he made a vague motion with his hand, shaking his head, “fucked-up situation Ruthie pushed me into. That— I mean, shit, none of that fucking concerns you and you still wanna help me.”

A strained chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at you with genuine confusion, eyes still shiny. “And I can’t even tell if it’s out of pity toward me or out of hatred for Ruthie.”

That alone made your heart crack again, ripping deeper with every second you had to see him in this state.

“Neither.” You smiled softly. “It’s what friends do. Help each other. It’s a mutual thing. You helped me sober up on Saturday, and now I help you get out of this mess.” You shrugged, a cheeky smile on your lips. “Although getting Ruthie to eat shit is also a huge motivator.”

At that, Rafe let out a boyish laugh, averting his gaze for a second. “Shit, yeah, guess that won’t happen, though, if the deal goes through. Then she gets what she wanted.”

“It will,” you said, and his head snapped up again. “Deal or not, she still has the video. You think she’s gonna delete it the second your dad signs the papers?” You shook your head, expression hardening. “Nah, that bitch will just come up with something new, and it’ll keep going like this until one of you loses. And we’re gonna make sure it’s her.”

A heavy sigh escaped Rafe’s lips as he sank deeper into his seat, grimacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I didn’t even think of that.”

“That was literally the first thing I mentioned last night when you told me about this whole situation,” you replied, amused. “And we talked about the exact same thing again this morning.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, fuck, I know. I meant—I didn’t think about it during the conversation with my dad.” He closed his eyes, rubbing his palms over them. “Fuck, I should’ve held off on my suggestion until we were out of options. Now I might have to go through with the deal even if we manage to get rid of the video.”

OBVIOUSLY.

“No,” you said anyway, trying to offer a genuine smile. “I mean, yeah, you reacted impulsively, but chances are high we won’t be able to delete the video before the Gloaming. Your offer buys us time to stall Ruthie a little longer.”

Rafe scowled. “Buys us time? You do realize if my dad agrees and I take this deal, there’s no backing out.”

You tilted your head, giving him a crooked smile. “Maybe you can’t back out. But what if Ruthie’s dad did?”

“What?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just imagine what a blow it would be to the Whitmores if the deal gets announced at the Gloaming on big stage in front of everyone, and then shortly after, it falls apart because Mr. Whitmore chickened out.”

“You wanna blackmail him or what?” Rafe asked, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That bastard cheated on his wife and didn’t even blink. I doubt—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I mean, I don’t know. Ruthie’s family is full of shit like that. There’s gotta be something we could use against them.”

A sweet chuckle slipped from his lips, making your heart skip a beat. “Shit, you wanna blackmail a grown man? You’re fucking insane.”

“I’m just saying, best case scenario,” you started, amused, lifting your brows as you counted off on your fingers, “we destroy Ruthie’s leverage by deleting the video, announce your family’s big role at the Gloaming with this deal and bring some attention on Cameron Development with it, humiliate the Whitmores when Mr. Whitmore pussed out, which means you’re free from whatever the deal actually entails, and”, you frowned, “this shouldn’t even be a bullet point—your dad can’t blame you because someone else crashed the deal.”

He just looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to believe this mess could actually work out in his favor.

Then that blank look morphed into a smug grin. “You forgot the best part of this scenario.”

Oh, you already knew you weren’t gonna like this answer, but you still raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“You falling head over heels for me during our fake dating act and letting me bend you over by the end of the week.”

DUDE.

HOW BLUNT DID YOU WANNA BE? YES.

You had no idea how to respond, feeling called out on your crush, for no reason whatsoever, so you tried to hide your flustered mess of a brain by laughing in disbelief.

“What’s so funny?” he said, grinning, EYES DROPPING TO YOUR LIPS FOR A SECOND, OKAY SIR. “I can be pretty charming if I want to be. And a convincing boyfriend, too.”

KFKSNFKACJ CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN.

You smiled nervously, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. “Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

BOY, MY WHOLE LIFE I’VE BEEN DREAMING ABOUT YOU BEING MY BOYFRIEND.

Your whole body seemed to heat up in the car and all you could do was chuckle again in response because you were too overwhelmed with this topic.

Rafe studied you for a second with that cocky smile of his, then leaned back, letting out a heavy exhale.

“Okay, but for real,” he said, suddenly switching tones. “I wasn’t joking when I said I needed you to play a little part.” He fidgeted with the ring on his finger, a crease forming between his brows. “Because my dad thinks we’re dating now, he wants to get to know you better. At a dinner on Wednesday, to be exact. And the way he phrased it... it kinda sounded like his decision about the deal depends on how that dinner goes.”

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

So it wasn’t just about acting like his date—you also had to impress his dad?!

I meaaaan, there was no need for you to pull an act BECAUSE HAHAHAHAHAH but still, this was A LOT of events within two weeks. Sure, this would be just pretense but this still felt like you two were moving way too fast.

“Look,” he went on, holding your gaze with a calm seriousness as he gestured to himself, “I’m not asking you to get all PDA-shit with me. No kissing or sitting on my lap or any of that shit, okay? Just…” He let out a tense breath, waving his hand in the air. “Shit, I don’t know. Whatever it is couples do. Smile and hold hands and stuff like that, you know. Molly-Kelce type shit but like lowkey.”

SOMEONE RUSH ME TO THE ER. PLEASE HELP.

“I get that this is probably like a meteor crashing into the minions in your brain,” he added with a chuckle, “but I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” A strained smile appeared on his lips as he gestured toward himself, shaking his head. “I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You scoffed, amused. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

OH SHIT.

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling your face heat up at his surprised expression. “I mean, I can handle a little physical contact.”

AT THIS POINT JUST TELL HIM YOU WANT HIS HANDS ALL OVER YOU.

Rafe raised his brows in genuine surprise. “So you’d be down to do that?”

You fidgeted with your bracelet, staring at one of the heart charms. “I just…” A nervous breath escaped your lips. “How long are you planning to keep this up?”

Silence.

Great.

You raised your gaze again, meeting his soft expression. He looked a little thrown off by the question, or maybe by the fact you were actually agreeing to FUCKING FAKE DATE HIM.

Then he blinked, shaking his head lightly. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, it’d be kinda suspicious if we broke up right after the dinner or the Gloaming, right?”

“I thought we were just dating,” you said with a shaky breath. "You know, a breakup implies an actual relationship."

Rafe’s brows twitched but he nodded quickly. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Right.” He laughed awkwardly. “Same thing, though.”

IT’S NOT, BUT OKAY.

He motioned toward you casually. “I don’t know, what do you suggest?”

ME???

Heat crawled up your neck because, for no damn reason at all, this felt like whatever you answered would be a confession. WHICH WAS SO STUPID. BUT STILL.

BUT GIRL THIS IS YOUR CHANCE. FAKE DATING RAFE, HELLO???

Okay, if it were up to me, we could keep this going forever hahahahahah.

PLEASE. HE’S LITERALLY WAITING FOR AN ANSWER.

You smiled awkwardly. “Um… I guess that depends on how long we’ve supposedly been dating already, right? Or maybe you tell me first what exactly you told your dad about us in the first place.”

“Uh, yeah.” Rafe nodded. “So I basically said we started dating like a month ago, and I didn’t tell anyone because you wanted to keep it lowkey. And—”

“Me?” You raised your brows, amused.

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, it only makes sense that way because I sure as hell wouldn’t be hiding you.”

JESUS CHRIST. WHATEVER THAT MEANT.

“And I didn’t wanna pressure you,” he went on, still smiling. “Because you’re important to me and shit, so obviously I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable and scare you off.”

OKAY, NOPE. SOMEBODY CALL 911.

You had no time to spiral over that right now, so you just nodded, suddenly feeling like the awkward girl from earlier last week. “Okay… and then?”

“Yeah well, I also mentioned the project,” he said with a chuckle. “You know, to add some truth to the story.”

Oh.

So the part about you being important to him and all that wasn’t true?

“What?”

Shit, your face had given you away.

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing, I just— is that all?”

Rafe furrowed his brows. “No, I mean, yeah, but… what’s bothering you?”

That this will all be pretense and eventually it’s going to end and that is what’ll break me.

“I just…” you exhaled quietly, tracing your finger over the texture of your purse. “If we’re doing this, I need you to be super clear about what’s part of the act and what’s not. I’m already struggling to keep up with your… flirting, and stuff, but I learned to accept it.”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “But you know how my brain works by now. I don’t do well with mixed signals. So if something you say or do is just part of the act, I need you to clarify it as such.”

For a moment, he just looked at you with this innocent expression, like a boy soaking up info about a brand-new topic.

Then he nodded. “I will… if you do the same.”

OH!

Rafe needing clarity like that? That—wait.

DID THAT MEAN HE THOUGHT YOU WERE GIVING HIM MIXED SIGNALS TOO?? AND WHAT DID THAT MEAN?

OKAY OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN.

He probably just wanted to keep things clear. That wasn’t weird.

“I will,” you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “But what are you gonna tell your dad when the whole fake thing’s over? I mean,” a way too tense laugh escaped your lips, “we’re not like… parting ways or something, right?”

“What?” Rafe shook his head fast, a deep crease between his brows. “Shit, of course not.” He motioned between you two. “We’ll just say it didn’t work out but we stayed friends or shit like that. Easy.”

A huge wave of relief washed over you.

Sure, you hadn’t really thought he’d cut you off afterward, but hearing him say it out loud had probably just saved you from spiraling.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, anticipation flickering in his expression. “So you’re okay with this?”

I’M SCREAMING INTERNALLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

“I think so,” you replied with a soft smile. “So, this act… it’s basically just for the dinner and the Gloaming and maybe a little bit after to keep things realistic?”

Rafe scratched his chin. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you should probably tell your parents too, in case they end up talking with my dad or Rose.”

UGHHH. That was going to be the most awkward and uncomfortable conversation of your life, filled with a million questions and a dramatic “WE KNEW IT.”

But you nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. And for the same reason, we should probably let our friends in on it too.” You paused for a second, hesitating. “And Sarah and Wheezie as well.”

And because Rafe’s face immediately twisted into a deep scowl, you quickly added, “I mean, I can take care of Sarah and you can talk to Wheezie, but I assume they’re going to be present at the dinner too, so better tell them beforehand before they accidentally blow our cover.”

Please don’t get mad, please don’t get mad.

Rafe exhaled and ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, shit, I guess you’re right.”

Oh. That was easier than expected.

“Let’s talk about the rest of this crap tomorrow, okay? I’ve had enough of this damn deal and Ruthie for one day,” he said, his expression turning smug. “And I think that was enough food for your little minions today too.”

You laughed. “True that.”

Then you suddenly became aware of where you actually were. Your mind had been so focused on the conversation, you hadn’t even noticed Rafe had driven you to some secluded grove at the far end of Figure 8. (If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was planning to kill you and bury your body here ahahahaha.)

Outside the car, sunlight filtered through the oak trees, casting golden patterns across the grass below. Everything looked still, calm, and just a little unreal in the warm afternoon light. The branches swayed slightly in the breeze, but it was quiet behind the glass.

It felt like the day was finally beginning to slow down.

“Where are we?” you asked in awe, eyes fixed on the scene outside. You didn’t recognize the place at all and hadn’t been paying attention on the way here either.

The sound of Rafe unbuckling his seatbelt made you turn your head.

“You’ll see,” he said with a grin, snatching his keys and phone from the center console, then got out of the car.

A rush of adrenaline shot through your body, and for a moment you just sat there, stunned—nerves buzzing at the fact that Rafe had brought you somewhere this beautiful.

“C’mon,” he said as he opened your door, grinning like an idiot. “Or does the lady need to be carried?”

CARRIED WHERE, THOUGH?

Your cheeks flushed and you quickly shook your head with a baffled little laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt too. With a soft thud, Rafe shut the door behind you.

The grove looked even more magical from outside the car—like you’d just stepped into one of those vivid landscape paintings in a museum. In the distance, you could hear seagulls calling, and above you the whisper of treetops rustling. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean and salt, and the warm air was thick with the smell of pine, oak, and damp earth.

It all felt almost fairylike.

So how the fuck did Rafe even know about this place?

“Where are we?” you asked again, turning to meet his eyes.

“You’ll see,” he repeated, smiling as he walked to the back of his car and opened the trunk. He slung a huge gym bag over his shoulder and you couldn’t help but admire the way his arms flexed as he lifted it.

AND THEN YOU DIED.

When he reached up to close the trunk with his other hand, his polo shirt rode up slightly, giving you a glimpse of his FUCKING V-LINE. BYE.

And of course, his cocky little chuckle told you he’d definitely caught you looking, which made your entire face heat the fuck up.

I’M SERIOUSLY DONE FOR TODAY.

With two quick clicks, he locked the car and gently nudged you forward with a “C’mon,” stepping beside you again.

Your heart pounded like it was training for a marathon, but you fell into step beside him anyway, shoulders brushing lightly as you walked.

A wooden path stretched through the grove, seemingly guiding the way. Birds chirped in the canopy above, and the rustling of leaves filled the silence between the two of you.

“Does this place belong to your family?” you asked, slightly alarmed by the signs of ownership.

“No,” Rafe said a little too casually, and a flicker of unease crept into your chest at the idea that you might be trespassing on someone’s private land. You weren’t exactly planning to get shot today.

You frowned, letting out a nervous laugh. “Okay… so whose is it then?”

“Relax, alright?” he said, casting you a slightly amused look. “We’re allowed to be here.”

AND WHO ALLOWED THAT?

Jesus, this guy was the reason you were going to need a pacemaker someday. The number of mini-heart attacks he’d already given you was concerning.

You just nodded, unconvinced, and tried not to bump into him too often as you continued down the wooden path.

Soon, the scent of freshwater started to mix with the earthy air, and shortly after, you stepped into a clearing.

And the sight was breathtaking.

A small lake stretched out before you, reflecting the brilliant blue sky like a shimmering mirror, framed by a stunning wall of oaks and pines.

And in the center of it all: a white pavilion, accessible by a wooden pier just a few meters ahead.

The warm touch of Rafe’s hand on your lower back snapped you out of your trance.

“Move your ass,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t bring you here just to play fucking tree.”

Still overwhelmed by the view, you managed a quiet laugh and let him guide you toward the pier. His hand never left your back, all the way to the pavilion it rested on the place just inches from your butt—and you didn’t even notice when it dropped, or when he set the bag down, because you were completely floored.

Sand-colored curtains wrapped the pavilion in a golden shimmer, and a beautifully carved wooden railing gave the whole space a feeling of calm and safety. In the center, a round firepit filled with fresh coal and wood. On one side, a wide lounge bed. On the other, a cute little table with two chairs.

But that wasn’t what had you completely speechless.

No, it was the little things in between—the details that made your heart skip in a way it never had before.

The upper beams were strung with dozens of star-shaped fairy lights, wrapped like ivy around the posts. The lounge bed was covered in a fluffy Fluttershy-themed blanket, and tucked between the soft beige cushions were two plushies—one Psyduck and one that looked like a cursed Minion. And on the side table, surrounded by glowing fake candles and perfectly arranged decor, was a massive bouquet of flowers—the scent of sweet peas, forget-me-nots, anemones, peonies, and astrantias already filling the air.

Everything was just...

Perfect.

“Do you like it?” Rafe’s quiet voice pulled you out of another daze.

When you turned to look at him, your heart dropped. Blue eyes stared back at you—uncertain, a little nervous, and maybe even afraid.

“At first, I had been thinking I could just take you out for dinner,” he said, letting out a shaky chuckle, “but I figured that's kinda lame and… someone like you deserves something a little more special, so I wanted to do something else instead.” He pressed his lips together for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time to set it up, though. You know, because of the convo with my dad and our hangout awaiting, I only had like two hours.”

He exhaled through his nose, brows pulling together. “But I really wanted to do this today before another fucker decides to give it a shot, and I...” Another shaky breath. “I know it’s not much. Not sure what you had in mind when you asked for more effort, and your friend was absolutely no help, so I...” He frowned. “Okay, fuck that — will you be my date for the shitty-ass Gloaming?”

Completely overwhelmed by the setup, by the fact that he’d actually put in this much effort despite being so busy, that he’d even reached out to Cara for help, and then the way he asked—awkward and nervous and just a little passive-aggressive—and the fact he was worried someone else might ask you even though you only wanted to go with him...

The butterflies in your stomach went feral. The little minions in your head were full-on losing their minds, rushing around, screaming, jumping up and down. And your heart? Beating all the right kinds of fast.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brows drawing tighter, and the anxiety in his voice was impossible to miss. “You look disappointed.”

You quickly shook your head, laughing in disbelief. “What? Oh my god, no! No. Not at all, that’s...” You took in the whole setup again before turning back to him, a wide smile on your face. “It’s perfect, Rafe. I... I don’t even know what to say, I totally wasn’t expecting this.”

“Yeah, well, you could say ‘Yes’ for example,” he muttered impatiently, clearly tensed.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused.

“What?” he said, nearly panicking. “No way you already said yes to some other fucking loser.”

You laughed softly and smiled, shaking your head. “No.”

Now he raised his brows, anticipation written all over his face.

Alright. You should probably put him out of his misery before he had a full breakdown.

“Yes,” you said with a soft laugh. “I’d love to be your date for the Gloaming.”

And just like that, the biggest grin broke across his face and all that tension left his body. “So the 10k I spent renting this place was worth it.”

“WHAT?!” Your heart dropped straight to the floor.

NO WAY HE’D ACTUALLY SPENT THAT MUCH ON YOU.

That bastard laughed. “Just kidding. Place belongs to Kelce’s grandpa. So I only paid half.”

You blinked at him, completely shocked.

“Alright, calm down, it was free,” he said, giggling as you lightly smacked him with the back of your hand. “Hey, not sure I wanna date an abusive girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the word date before you remembered—hahah yeah, right, you were fake dating now. Kind of.

YOU’D NEED AT LEAST A WEEK TO LET THAT FACT SINK IN. HOLY SHIT.

Anyway.

No freaking out now. Not after Rafe went through all this trouble just to make you feel special.

You just shot him an amused side-eye at his comment, then turned away to inspect the flowers on the table.

Their scent so sweet and lovely, and each individual bloom looked so beautiful on its own. The whole arrangement of soft pinks and blues with little green fillers in between—just perfect.

And the fact that these weren’t just random flowers or boring roses, no, the bouquet felt like Rafe’s way of showing you that he’d actually thought this through, that he’d really put effort into it.

Your fingers gently brushed over the petals, a smile tugging at your lips. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re probably thinking the same about you.”

You hadn’t even noticed him walking up behind you, now standing just slightly behind your shoulder, his warm breath ghosting over the skin of your neck, sending a shiver running down your spine.

You turned around, a baffled laugh slipping out at both his comment and the close proximity. Your heart was already screaming so loudly, you were sure Rafe could hear it.

And then you saw it.

A weirdly shaped present in his hands, about the size of a football. Horribly wrapped—like a 5-year-old had been handed wrapping paper and scissors.

“And that’s also for you,” he said, face slightly sheepish.

You blinked, completely startled. Two gifts in three days, and on top of that, this whole beautifully arranged setup?

More than feeling excited, you felt guilty for not having anything to give in return. Something to show him how much you appreciated all this, and—

“Shit, take the fucking thing,” he said, pressing the gift into your hands. “Didn’t spend an hour on this shit just for you to stare at the shitty-ass wrapping.”

WHAT.

DID THAT MEAN HE MADE SOMETHING HIMSELF?

Okay, bye—you were either going to pass out or cry in the next five minutes.

“Go on,” he said, nudging your shoulder, sounding like an impatient schoolboy, “open that shit already.”

Ignoring the anxious buzzing under your skin, you set the present down on the table and tugged at the ribbon. As you carefully tore open the wrapping paper, you could feel Rafe standing right behind you, leaning in to look over your shoulder like he was the one receiving the gift.

And as soon as the present was revealed—

—you immediately burst out laughing.

You didn’t even get a full look at what it was. The first glimpse alone was so unexpected you had to turn away and giggle like a total idiot. Your stomach hurting, and you even had to wipe away tears from how hard it hit you.

“What?” he asked, voice sounding both amused and offended. “It’s that bad?”

You shook your head, trying to stop laughing, your face flushed from surprise.

“No, it’s...” you began, but almost broke into laughter again as your eyes landed on the gift once more. “I love it, but,” You gestured toward the little miniature scene in front of you, trying to keep your grin under control. “What the fuck is that?”

A chuckle slipped from his lips. “You want me to explain?”

“Yes, please elaborate,” you said, still catching your breath, wiping away the last of your laugh-tears.

“Okay, so right here,” he said with a crooked smile, pointing to a bloody FunkoPop that looked like it had originally been Levi Ackerman from Attack On Titan, two blades in hand, black curtain bangs painted over with a sort of dirty-blonde shade. “That’s me, alright?”

You nodded, lifting a hand to your mouth to stop you from breaking out into a laughing fit again.

“And that fucker,” he continued, brows raised as if this part was important, pointing at a Minion FunkoPop laid out on some cardboard-style ground, bruises and blood drawn on the poor thing, “that’s one of your fuckass minions. I killed him.”

You stifled another laugh. “But his eye is open.”

“Yeah, well,” he said deadpan, gesturing to his chest with both hands, “I forced him to keep it open, okay? So my face is the last thing he sees.”

You nodded slowly, barely holding it together. “Of course.”

“Yeah, and that one is you,” he said, pointing to a smiling female FunkoPop you couldn’t quite connect to a franchise, but she resembled you a lot—though some color adjustments had clearly been made. “Any questions?”

Why was he acting like he was presenting a science project? Help.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, leaning in to inspect your figure more closely. “Why does she have blood on her chest? Did you stab her too?”

Rafe frowned dramatically. “What? No.” He pointed between your figure and the dead Minion. “You see how close you were standing when he was killed? Realistically, some blood would’ve splattered onto you.”

Wow. He really thought this through. Attention to detail.

You chuckled, nodding. “Okay, so you didn’t care that I was standing right next to you swinging those blades? You could’ve hit me too, you know.”

“Maybe I should have,” Rafe muttered, scowling. “If I’d known you were gonna mock my masterpiece like this.”

“I’m not mocking it,” you said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. “I’m actually really impressed. Like…” You gestured to the entire setup, smile softening. “It’s genuinely impressive and… so much thought behind it too.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, okay, real funny. You know if—”

“I mean it, Rafe,” you interrupted, turning to face him completely, meeting his eyes with real sincerity. “This whole setup—the flowers, the lights, this whole place—everything is just perfect. So… thank you, this means a lot to me.” A crease formed between your brows. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put that much thought and effort into something for me.”

“Into asking you out?” Rafe asked, almost disbelieving.

You shook your head, a somewhat sad smile tugging at your lips as you gazed at the blue patterns in his eyes. “No. I mean ever.”

Rafe’s brows twitched, like he couldn’t quite follow. And then, a jolt went through you as his hand gently reached out for your bracelet, lightly playing with one of the charms.

“Yeah, well, gotta have some proof we’re dating,” he said with a soft chuckle, eyes still fixed on your bracelet.

Your smile faded, and you instinctively pulled your hand away just a little.

Rafe looked up immediately, a frown forming as the bracelet slipped from his fingers. “What’s wrong?” His expression softened instantly when his eyes met yours. “Shit, I was joking. I—I didn’t do all this because of that.” He tapped his chest. “I planned this before even talking to my dad, okay? Spent all of English class thinking about how I could use this second chance.”

He nodded toward the little gift with a crooked grin. “I mean, seriously, you think I’d put in that much effort just for show?” His brows furrowed. “Which, by the way—you are not telling anyone about this fuckass gift, alright. If word gets out, you're switching places with the Minion.”

A chuckle escaped you at that. “Embarrassed about your little masterpiece?”

“Nah,” he said, mouth turning downward. “It’s a limited edition. Don’t need anyone else requesting the same shit.”

Yeah. He was so embarrassed.

You nodded smugly. “Uh-huh, sure.”

“Alright, enough talking now,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he nodded behind you. “Get your ass on the bed.”

UM.

Somehow, instead, your eyes drifted toward the massive gym bag he'd brought, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the actual fuck was in there.

Rafe followed your gaze and turned back around with a nasty little grin. You quickly shook your head, frowning as you pushed him lightly in the chest. “Ew.”

“What?” He chuckled, boyishly. “You’re the one always turning everything sexual.”

You eyed him, deadpan. “Okay, but seriously, what’s in there? Because right now it looks like you’re either getting rid of someone or doing some other sketchy shit.”

“Okay, you know what,” he said, frowning, making a hushing motion with his hand, “how about you move your cheeky ass to the couch and shut the fuck up.”

Always so gentle.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “And you? You gonna—”

You stopped mid-sentence as he suddenly stepped toward you, determination in his eyes, and you shook your head with a baffled smile just as—

A startled squeak left your lips as he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up. Instinctively, your hands flew around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, your brain barely keeping up with what was happening.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a breathless laugh, heart hammering wildly, half-expecting him to just throw you into the lake.

Rafe scowled as he walked over to the lounge bed, one hand under your knees, the other supporting your back. "What does it look like?"

WELL THE WAY HIS BICEPS WERE FLEXING DEFINITELY LOOKED A LITTLE TOO DELICIOUS.

OKAY GIRL, THAT'S WHAT YOU’RE FOCUSING ON RIGHT NOW?? RAFE JUST FUCKING CARRIED YOU IN HIS ARMS BRIDAL STYLE???

But before you could even freak out, he had already set you down on the lounge bed—carefully and gently.

And when he straightened back up and looked down at you with that stern expression of his... uh, let's just say it wasn’t just your heart that started screaming.

“Stay there and keep your mouth shut,” he said—soft and firm and OH MY FUCKING GOD, SUDDENLY YOU WISHED YOU'D TAKEN CARE OF THAT PRESSURE EARLIER. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

OKAY SIR.

Trying to ignore HOW CRAZILY FAST YOUR HEART WAS BEATING, you snuggled into the lounge bed, kicked your shoes off, and slipped under the fluffy Fluttershy blanket (WHICH, OH MY FUCKING GOD). You chuckled to yourself as you inspected the Psyduck plush and the cursed Minion plush, arranging them neatly beside you on the right, silently wondering if he had bought them or already owned them.

“Okay,” he said, placing the gym bag on the lounge bed as he came back, his eyes flicking to the two plushies for a second (literal death glare) before unzipping the bag and reaching in. “Hall said these are your favorite snacks.” He tossed four packs of your actual favorite snacks your way.

“You know her name is Cara, right?” you said, amused, gathering the snacks in front of the plushies.

Rafe ignored you and pulled out a hoodie, tossing it onto the empty spot next to the plushies. “Mine,” he said, then threw another one your way. “And yours.”

UM EXCUSE ME WHATTTTTTTTTTT.

You blinked, baffled, staring down at the dark gray hoodie now lying in your lap.

“What?” he said, confused (BOY I AM IN CONFUSION HERE), gesturing toward you. “It gets cold real quick out here, and you didn’t bring a fucking jacket.”

SO HE RANDOMLY PACKED TWO HOODIES???

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me we’d be hanging out outside,” you replied, an awkward smile tugging at your lips.

Rafe held your gaze for a second like you were talking gibberish, then turned back to the bag, pulling out a smaller, black, square-shaped case. “Wheezie’s Switch. So take fucking care, alright.”

Okay, first of all, how much fit into this fucking bag? Was he Hermione Granger or something? Second, the way he always looked out for Wheezie was literally the sweetest thing ever. And third—CAN WE NOT JUST BREEZE PAST HIM BRINGING YOU A FUCKING HOODIE???

I’m cool :) I’m fine :)

And lastly, he pulled out two 1-liter water bottles, tossing them onto the couch—one almost crashing into your knee. Then he let the bag drop to the floor and turned quietly to the fireplace.

While he tried to light it, you (still very much overwhelmed) turned toward the stuff he’d brought, gathering the bottles in front of the snacks, folding his hoodie neatly and placing it beside you, and grabbed the Switch case.

A smile tugged at your lips when you saw the Animal Crossing-themed console. You left it in the case for now and started looking through the games. Everything was there—from Zelda to Animal Crossing (duh), a bunch of Mario games, even FIFA.

“No.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when he came back over to the lounge bed.

You looked up from the games, catching him dramatically frowning at the spot right beside you. He gestured to the plushies and snacks. “What the fuck is this? You building a wall between us or some shit?”

A baffled laugh escaped you. “I just figured that way we both have easy access.”

“Fuck that,” he said and climbed onto the bed, grabbing both plushies and tossing them toward your feet, muttering something like, “Fuckers” under his breath. Then he placed the snacks and drinks onto the wooden shelf behind the backrest of the bed, which you hadn’t even noticed before.

Then he kicked off his shoes aggressively, slipped under the blanket, and scooted closer so that his shoulder and legs were brushing against yours (mind you, this lounge bed was bigger than the one at the open-air event).

But you just chuckled, not moving an inch as a warm feeling spread in your chest when he finally exhaled a deep, tired breath (boy acting like he just invented fire).

“Putting these fuckers between us like they were the ones who set all this up,” he muttered, glaring at the plushies by your feet like they’d committed ten felonies.

Okay, getting angry/jealous/possessive (?) over stuffed animals—did that fall into a gray area or what? HAHAHAH

You know what? I don’t even care.

You laughed and leaned forward to grab both the Psyduck and the Minion, setting them in your lap. “Then why’d you bring them?”

“Because I saw these fuckers in the store and they reminded me of us,” he said, not breaking eye contact with the plushies.

“Us?” Another baffled chuckle slipped past your lips, your stomach doing somersaults at the thought of him buying something that made him think of the two of you.

Rafe nodded and gestured to the Minion. “Yeah, that fucker's your loud-ass, annoying asshole minion.” His hand drifted to the Psyduck. “And this guy? He’s the one getting harassed by him. Like me.”

“What?” you laughed, disbelieving.

“Yeah, that’s the Pokémon with the headaches and stuff, right?”

You nodded, trying to hold in another laugh. “Psyduck, yes.”

“Yeah, whatever. And where do you think those headaches come from?”

“Well, it’s tied to his—”

“Yeah, because of that fucker,” Rafe interrupted, pointing right back at the Minion.

You chuckled and raised a brow at him. “So if they represent us, I guess that means I’m giving you headaches too.”

Rafe nodded, blinked, then quickly shook his head and gestured toward his temples with both hands. “Your minions piss me off. Not you.”

This felt like a kindergartener trying to explain his emotions with stuffed animals. Lord help.

“But they are me,” you said, amused.

Rafe grimaced and snatched the Minion from your lap, glaring at the poor guy with pure disdain. “He’s fucking ugly and you’re not, so yeah, nah, definitely not you.”

A weird way of saying you’re pretty BUT I’LL TAKE WHAT I CAN GET.

“Alright,” you said with a chuckle, holding the Psyduck up next to Rafe’s face. “But this one’s pretty accurate though. Same pissed-off face.”

Rafe pushed your hand with the plush aside and placed the Minion somewhere next to him, his expression nearly offended. “I thought you’d like him.”

“I do,” you said, still chuckling at how the Psyduck was holding its head with a pained expression. “He’s cute.”

“See? Him and me have so much in common,” Rafe said, voice back to cocky, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his smug grin.

You set the Psyduck down on your left and leaned against Rafe’s shoulder, looking up at him with a smile. “He’s a little too quiet for my taste, though.”

A soft chuckle escaped Rafe’s lips as he raised a brow. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I much prefer your annoyed, passive-aggressive yapping.”

“I’m not aggressive,” Rafe said with a frown.

“Passive-aggressive,” you corrected him with a smile.

Rafe nodded, lips curling. “You know what? I’m gonna beat your ass passive-aggressively in Mario Kart.”

That made you sit upright again, raising a brow at him. “Not sure you know who you’re sitting next to.”

You and Cara had been playing Mario Kart since you were kids—on the DS, Wii, Switch, you name it. You’d be dragging Rafe’s ass through the fucking mud.

“Yeah,” he said, a crooked smile forming on his lips. “The soon-to-be loser.”

Excuse me?

“Bold words for someone who’s about to act like a grumpy toddler,” you replied, blinking at him unimpressed.

Rafe scoffed. “Wanna bet?”

“On what?”

For a moment, you nearly lost composure as his eyes dropped to your lips, but he quickly looked back up. “If I win, you’re staying over at my place after the dinner on Wednesday.” A smug grin tugged at his lips as he added, “You know, to support the act.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT.

“And if you win, I get to stay over at yours.” He didn’t even blink when he said it.

WHAT KIND OF TERMS WERE THOSE.

Your face heated up instantly at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Rafe, but you somehow managed to raise a brow. “How is that fair?”

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY—WHY THOSE CONDITIONS.

Rafe chuckled. “You got a problem with that?”

You nodded, a crease forming between your brows. “Well, yeah. We’ve got school the next day.”

AND I’M ALREADY PANICKING AND THE BET ISN’T EVEN SEALED YET.

“And?” Rafe raised a smug eyebrow. “You think we’ll be busy the whole night or what?”

THIS MOTHERFUCKER. BYEEE.

You chuckled nervously and shook your head, cheeks basically on fire. “I just…”

But you had no clue how to finish that sentence. Your brain had officially short-circuited.

“You think I’d try something?” Rafe asked, suddenly on the defensive again.

“Of course not,” you replied, a little annoyed he kept bringing this up. “Stop assuming that. I know you’re not a creep.”

Rafe didn’t look convinced.

He pulled a face and threw his hands up. “Then what’s the issue? You sleep on your side, I sleep on mine. It’s not that different from what we’re doing right now.” His voice softened a little. “And I genuinely think this could prove my dad that I'm serious about you. I usually never let a girl sleep over with all my family knowing."

Of course, you’d love nothing more than to sleep beside him, like OH MY FUCKING GOD—being wrapped in his blanket, sharing his warmth, breathing in the scent of his room and him and just... AJKDCMSKFEJ.

BUT.

“Rafe, I don’t know if this isn’t moving a little too fast for me,” you said quietly. “I mean… I know it’s just for the act, and I know you’d make sure I’m comfortable. It’s just…” You fidgeted with your bracelet. “My brain is already struggling to catch up with this right here. I barely processed us being friends and now three days later, you’re asking me to act like your fake girlfriend and sleep in your bed. That’s just…” A shaky breath slipped out. “It’s a lot.”

He needed to understand that. Whether he liked it or not.

Also… whether this was actually for the act or maybe correlated to his clinginess or attachment, you needed to slow things down a bit.

LIKE SLEEPING NEXT TO HIM IN BED???

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH.

You probably wouldn’t even be able to sleep. You’d just lie there, staring into the dark, heart thundering in your chest, trying to make sense of the fact that you were actually sharing a bed with Rafe.

“I don’t get it,” Rafe said, clearly hurt. “I thought this wouldn’t be an issue for you. I mean, you do the same with your girl friends, right? How is this different?”

You let out a baffled laugh. “Because those are sleepovers and...uh...”

Shit. You had no valid argument. Other than the fact that he was a guy—the guy you were badly in love with.

“And?” There was something almost sad in his expression. He turned his body toward you fully, gesturing to himself. “If I were a girl, would you still say no?”

Okay. Fair. This wasn’t about him being a guy. THIS WAS ABOUT HIM BEING RAFE FUCKING CAMERON, YOUR CRUSH.

You chuckled softly. “I think you’d say no. Girl sleepovers involve things you probably wouldn’t do.”

“Says who?”

“What?”

“That I’d say no.”

OH. MY. GOD.

Your eyebrows shot up. “So you’re telling me you’d be down for pajamas, gossip, giggling about guys, doing face masks and makeup and all that stuff?”

“Cut the giggling and the makeup and I’m good with the rest,” he said, way too casually.

You laughed. “Rafe, that’s—”

“I’m serious,” he cut in, frowning. “You said you wanted to be friends, so why can’t we do friend shit? Sarah and Kie always left me out of that shit too. Like, is that some fuckass girl code or shit like that?”

Okay, new theory: maybe this wasn’t just about the act or his clinginess. Maybe he never actually had a real sleepover growing up and felt excluded his entire life.

And somehow, that… shifted your entire perspective on this situation.

You smiled softly. “So you wanna have a sleepover like that?”

He paused for a moment, arms crossed. Then shrugged. “Shit, I guess.”

AJSKFKSMFEK.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened like a starving medieval peasant getting tossed a piece of bread. “For real?”

You nodded, stifling a laugh. “But I don’t think the dinner night is the right time for that.” His frown was already returning, so you added quickly, “Because sleepovers like that take preparation, you know? You go shopping together, pick out snacks and stuff—that’s part of the whole experience.”

Rafe shook his head lightly, brows furrowed. “But the dinner night would be—”

“You need to understand, the whole act is already a lot for me,” you interrupted gently. “And not because of you. It’s just… a ton of pressure. Playing pretend in front of your dad and Rose, convincing them it’s real, and I also wanna make a good impression independent from the act, because I’m gonna be around even after this whole fake thing ends. Then coming home with you on the same night, Sarah will probably pull me aside and talk to me about it, and then it’d also be my first time sleeping over at a guy’s place and—”

“Alright, alright,” Rafe said, smile tight (great, now your panic was rubbing off on him too). “You need to chill the fuck out. It was just an idea to support the whole thing, okay?” His expression softened. “You’re gonna do just fine. Just be yourself, that’s enough. My dad already thinks you’re the perfect catch anyway.”

Your face twisted. “But he doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows your parents, and he respects them a lot,” Rafe explained, letting out a half-laugh. “And there’s never been any drama with you or them. Plus, you’re polite, kind, and pretty on top of that. He already thinks I've won the jackpot with you.” A small smile curled on his lips. “And he’s probably right.”

OH MY HOLY FUCKING GOD.

How did he keep on casually dropping comments like that?? He probably thought they’d calm you down, but they were only making you freak out more, HELLOOOO???

“So just the dinner on Wednesday then. No sleeping over,” he said. “That cool with you?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Aight.” Rafe exhaled quietly, visibly relaxing. He shifted back next to you, his shoulder resting against yours. Then he reached for the Switch. “Now let’s drop this shit till tomorrow. I wanna crush your ass in Mario Kart now.”

A chuckle escaped your lips and you sank deeper into the seat, grabbing the controller he handed you.

"What about the bet?", you asked, gazing up at him.

Rafe’s brows twitched, and he shifted his gaze from the Switch to you. “Yeah, well, that shit doesn’t really make sense anymore, does it?”

“We could come up with a new one,” you offered, absentmindedly tracing the joystick’s curve with your thumb—until you noticed the crooked grin forming on Rafe’s face. Clearly, he thought that motion implied what would be part of the bet.

You stopped immediately and frowned at him. “Seriously.”

A cheeky chuckle escaped his lips. “Didn’t say a thing.” He made a poor attempt at looking serious. “Alright then—what did you have in mind?”

You pressed your lips together, hesitation bubbling in your chest, but--no. Screw it. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

Rafe blinked. The surprise washed over his whole face as he stared at you for a second before nodding. “Like... the whole night or just the evening?”

“The whole night.”

He tilted his chin, raising his eyebrows. “To do what exactly?”

HORNY-ASS BOY.

“Having a sleepover. We literally just agreed on planning one,” you clarified, deadpan. “And my mom’s yacht is docked not far from our house and it’s basically a small apartment. Fully furnished lounge with a TV and everything. Perfect for spending the night.”

Rafe raised a brow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me to hook up with you.”

You gave him a blank stare.

“What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just wondering why you'd choose a private setting like that over one of our places.” He pointed at himself, wearing a teasing smile. “Just being cautious about your intentions here, okay.”

This fucker was mocking you. Wow.

A frown appeared on your face. “I literally just told you I'd feel pressured about sleeping over with one of our families around. And I know my parents would be checking in every ten minutes, asking if we needed anything and whatever.”

You grimaced. “They’d make the whole thing so awkward just because a boy is sleeping over, and then they’d start poking around about us dating and stuff and just… ugh, no thanks.”

Rafe chuckled and picked up the Mario Kart game case. “Alright, alright, I get it.” With a soft click, he pulled out the game card. “So what are the new bet terms?”

“If I win, you pay for snacks and everything,” you said, eyes following his hands. “And if you win, I will.”

Rafe scoffed and paused, looking up. “That’s lame as hell.”

“What? Why?”

“I was gonna pay for that shit anyway,” he said, sounding borderline offended.

NOT HIM WANTING TO PAY AGAIN, OMFG.

Your cheeks flushed but you didn’t dare argue. “Okay, what then?”

He slid the game card into the Switch slot and closed it, shifting his gaze back to you with that crooked little grin again. “What if we get a little fun out of this fake-dating thing?”

UM. WHERE EXACTLY WAS THIS GOING NOW.

You let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean?”

His face could mean literally anything from let’s do it right now to let’s tell our parents you’re accidentally pregnant.

“Nothing wild. Not tryna make you uncomfortable,” he said, still grinning. “But I think we should use this opportunity to our advantage. So” he raised his brows, “if you win, we stick to the original plan. Just pretend for our parents and that’s it.”

UH-HUH.

“But if I win,” he went on, grin turning cockier, “we do the same thing in front of our friends—without telling them it’s fake.”

WHAT.

You kind of saw that coming but it still hit you like a truck.

"Think about it. It just makes sense," he said with a casual shrug. "What’s the first thing they're gonna ask when we tell them we randomly decided to start fake-dating?"

You just shook your head, too stunned to think.

“Why we’re doing it all of a sudden,” he said, brows drawing together. “And if we say it’s to influence my dad’s decision on the deal, they’ll start digging. Asking questions. About Ruthie and all that shit. And Kelce will throw a tantrum over why I didn’t tell him and your friend will probably do the same.”

He raised his chin, voice dropping. “Or does she already know?”

You shook your head. “No. I promised not to tell anyone.”

“See? So not telling them just makes things simpler.” He shrugged. “Avoids unnecessary drama, and we can completely focus on the Ruthie shit and the deal—without anyone else trying to get involved.”

This was insane.

Pretending not just in front of your families, but also your friends? Lying to them like that didn’t just feel wrong, it was also a ton of pressure.

“Or,” you said with a sheepish smile, “we could just tell them half the truth. Say you accidentally dropped the dating thing during an argument with your dad and that’s it. Same outcome and no one needs to know about Ruthie or the deal.”

Rafe frowned. “Shit, don't you get it? They’ll still start bothering us. Annoy us by trying to help us or some shit, I don't even wanna know. Doesn’t matter what excuse we’ll give them.”

“Then we tell them not to.”

“You know damn well that's not gonna stop their nosy asses from meddling.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to respond.

Shit. He was right. But still...

“Look,” he said, voice softening, but the strained edge still very much there. “Like I said, I’m not asking you to throw yourself at me or anything like that. We’ll keep it lowkey, and I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?” He raised his brows slightly, almost pleading. “It’s just for a few days, okay? Once all the Ruthie shit is over, we can tell them everything. I just… I don’t have the energy to deal with their bullshit and this whole mess at the same time.”

Oh. So this poor boy was just overwhelmed and trying to lighten the load.

You got that. Like, how many times had you nearly had a meltdown juggling two big problems at once?

And… you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. They would throw lots of questions at you two. And considering your friends had been rooting for you and Rafe anyway, maybe it really was easier to not tell them it was fake.

Just today, Cara had suggested you two should just put the friendship aside and start dating, so it would even be believable that you two suddenly did. And since Kelce already knew about the little setup Rafe created here as well, it wouldn’t be a stretch to claim you two talked, got closer, and boom—now you’re dating.

HELPPPPPP.

Everything in you wanted to say no, to keep it limited to your parents, keep it managed and under control, so you wouldn’t fall any deeper and get hurt and—

“Okay,” you said, cutting off your spiral before it could consume you.

The tension fell from Rafe’s face immediately. “You sure?”

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Guess you were right when you said I make simple things complicated. Maybe I should try the easy path for once.”

Rafe let out a relieved breath and sank back down beside you, turning his head your way again. “I promise I won’t do anything—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that just fine,” you cut him off with a chuckle, picking up the controller from your lap. “Now let’s play before I change my mind.”

A big grin spread across his face as he reached for his controller too. “Aight, but I guess the bet’s useless again now, huh?”

Uh. Yeah. You had basically just agreed to his idea. No need to use it for a bet.

OH! WAIT.

You grinned at him.

“What?” Rafe’s lips twisted into a curious smirk.

“If I win, I get to do your makeup and nails tomorrow night,” you said, watching the color and life drain from his face. “And if you win, you get to do mine.”

And just like that, the light came back into his eyes.

Although, the grin that stretched across his face—a huge winner expression—made you question just how many hours Rafe actually spent on gaming, and whether you were doomed to lose since the beginning.

“You're on”, he said, and started the game.

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

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faebled-stories · 8 months ago

Text

The Echo of Three

Kinkvember Day 22: Cuckolding (Cuckqueen)

Kiss of Life Haneul and Belle x Male reader

13k words

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.

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