#the way this really made me feel something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafesangelita · 2 days ago

Text

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @sweetstrawberrianne @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

922 notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 2 days ago

Text

for @a-chance-of-raine - t4t jegulus - very slightly nsfw

“Wait. Stop,” James panted into Regulus’s mouth, making him pause.

And for a moment, Regulus had to curb his annoyance.

They’d been dating for six months. Six months. And at first, he’d very much appreciated James being a gentleman. Chaste kisses for a while, then his hands firmly on Regulus’s shoulders or behind his neck or around his waist when their encounters got more heated. It made him feel safe, especially when he was still working on his feelings toward his body, and his fears about how James might react.

But then time stretched longer and longer. And Regulus started trusting James more and more.

He didn’t worry as much about the other boy’s reaction to him. He just worried about the deep, gnawing need pulsing inside him.

But, six months later, and James was still stopping him every time he so much as ran his hand down his chest.

“James,” he muttered, sitting back and giving him a hard stare. “It’s okay. You don’t have to…to go slow with me anymore. I want…”

But the other boy grimaced, causing Regulus’s stomach to flip. “No! No, Reg it’s not you!” James immediately reassured him, realizing how Regulus had taken his look. “I…I’m going slow for me.”

“Oh!” he swallowed, sitting back, feeling a bit guilty. “Oh, okay! We can go as slow as you want, of course…” but he trailed off, because he was a bit confused. The way James looked at him, with hunger in his eyes and clear desire written over every part of his face, didn’t match up with this.

“I just…” James sighed, and moved back from him a bit as well. “I need to tell you something. But I don’t know how.”

“Oh,” he said again, mind starting to spin towards the worst conclusions. Was James straight, maybe? Or–fuck. Had someone told him?

“I’m trans.”

Regulus gaped for several long moments, certain James was fucking with him.

“Yeah…I…sorry. For not telling you,” the taller boy said sheepishly. “I just…I really like you. And I was nervous…and then, I got worried you’d be mad about me keeping it from you, and it kind of spiralled, and–”

But Regulus burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s kind of shit of you to laugh…” James mumbled, eyes moving down and face turning red.

“No! No, just…I am, too!” Regulus gasped, lightly grabbing James’s cheek and meeting his eyes.

James gasped. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well…that’s great, then!” he replied, eyes lighting up. But then, he frowned. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Regulus asked, tilting his head.

“That explains why Sirius told me we have a lot in common. I thought he meant we both like Quidditch,” James laughed, eyes bright.

Regulus could only chuckle before pulling him back into a kiss. “Idiot,” he mumbled against his lips.

503 notes · View notes

hanniescookie · 3 days ago

Text

are you bald yet? - yjh

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - fluff, established relationship, idol au, 250316 jeonghan and that's a warning, tiny bit suggestive, mentions of showering together, use of petnames, kissing, reader is a simp for jeonghan (so are we all), not proofread

word count - 1K

summary - you come home to find through the internet that your boyfriend is apparently bald.

author's note - i took a nap bcs i was exhausted from screaming over this jeonghan and when i woke up @wonkierideul asked me to do smth about this haired jh SO HERE IT IS!!! this is also for my fav hannie stan @kissbyoon bcs we'll both forever remember just how crazy 250316 jeonghan made us 😣😣😣

---------------------------**~**-------------------------

You blinked at your phone with your mouth agape as the fan taken video played on the screen. Your heart jumped to your throat, and you couldn't believe what you were seeing.

There was no way your boyfriend was bald.

Especially not without you knowing.

You knew he was going to meet Soonyoung and Jihoon, and that he had dinner with Cheol. You knew he was going to come home to you after that. But he did not mention shaving his head off even once.

The more you squinted at the low quality video, the more you died a little inside.

Jeonghan knew how much you loved his hair and how happy you were when he didn't have to shave it all off. But now, it made sense because he had to go for basic military training. He could have shaved his head.

Why would he not tell you, though? You were beyond mad. You wanted to be prepared for the sight. He even promised you he’d let you shave it all off if he ever had to.

Now he couldn't just show up to your apartment without a strand of his pretty hair on his head.

You were going to cry.

You dialed his contact in a hurry, your teeth gritted as the phone rang.

“Are you not asleep yet, love?” His voice met your ears through the phone, and it was so sweet that you almost melted. Almost. Not entirely.

“Where are you?” You asked, your tone dangerously low and the line went silent for a while. You almost thought he ended the call, but then his voice came, still as soft as cotton. “I'm on my way back. Is something wrong?”

You shut your eyes, trying to contain your frustration but failing at it. “First, you spend your whole damn day off with Cheol as if he's your girlfriend, then you don't even call me once in the last four hours, and then you go bald without even telling me?! Really Jeonghan?!”

There was silence on the other end again before you heard his soft laughter. It took you a few seconds to realize that the sound of his laughter was not just coming from your phone.

Your head whipped to the door of your bedroom where he was standing with a shit-eating grin on his face.

His head was covered with his hood, and you couldn't help melting on the spot this time. Any thoughts of his hair or his day not spent with you flew out of the window when he walked closer to the edge of your bed and opened his arms.

You jumped into his embrace, melting in his warmth that you missed beyond your own comprehension. It had been long since you both had time for each other, and with his service it was even harder.

His arms wrapped around you firmly, and you could feel him smile as he pressed a few kisses in your neck. “I spent the day with Seungcheol because you were busy and I needed company. I didn't call you in the last four hours because you told me you were at a team dinner,” he paused, pulling away to see the pout on your face before continuing as he pulled the hood off his head. “And I'm not bald.”

You gasped, backing away from him a little to properly examine his new look. It made your jaw drop to the floor.

“You—”

He rubbed the side of his neck with his palm sheepishly, his smile turning hesitant. “The boys said I look more manly. What do you think?”

It had been long since you were dating Jeonghan, yet you felt your heart beat in your throat at the sight of him. “Wow— you… you look so hot, hannie. I'm not even kidding.”

Any hesitation he had on his face flew right out of the window. He smirked slightly, adjusting his spectacles. “Really, baby? You think so?”

You sighed, not really believing how attractive he looked. You loved his long hair so much, and you always asked him to not cut it short. But right now, you felt a little too feral, and a little too lucky to have him all to yourself.

“Oh God I need to kiss you right now, come here,” you took a step close to him but he laughed and stepped back. “No no! I need to shower first. I stink, and I didn't want to hug you like this too, but I couldn't resist. Now let me wash up first. Be nice and wait for me, yeah?”

You looked at him astonished as he grabbed his spare clothes from your closet. You wished you could smack him right across his beautiful face. “Jeonghan. It's not fair how you always make me chase you, you know?”

He bit his lip, a mischievous grin spreading on his face. “I'm not making you chase me, love. You wouldn't like kissing your stinky boyfriend. It's for your good.”

You whined. “You're not stinky! You smell like yourself! Cotton candy and marshmallows and—”

You paused when you felt his lips against yours, warm and soft as he briefly kissed you. He giggled against your mouth, pausing to take off his spectacles. “Do you think you'll be fine if we shower together after this?”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, cheeks reddening slightly as you nodded. “Yes because you're too hot right now for me to let you go.”

“Yet you said I smell like cotton candy and marshmallows.”

You giggled, running your hand on his extremely short hair. “Good lord, hannie how in the world do you look so good?”

He laughed, hugging you tighter against him. “Stop this or I'll call you a simp.”

“I am a simp.”

“You stopped me from showering to kiss me. Where did that go?” He looked at you, his eyes narrowed in disappointment. You smiled innocently. “I'll do a lot more than just kissing, baby. Are you fine with that?”

“As long as you shower with me later.”

Your lips found his within an instant.

---------------------------**~**-------------------------

487 notes · View notes

halfmoonaria · 2 days ago

Text

he doesn’t know

pairing: sub!tara carpenter & dom!female reader

summary: every sunday, she finds herself in the backseat of your car instead—legs shaking, breath hitching, and trying to keep quiet.

warnings: smut (18+), cheating, secret relationship, oral sex (tara receiving), strap-on sex

author’s note: never done this so tell me if it’s too much.

Tara wasn't ashamed. She never had been.

When she was four, she decided she wanted to wear her fairy costume to preschool—not for Halloween, not for a special event, just because she felt like it.

The glittery wings were bent from being stuffed in the dress-up bin too many times, and the tulle skirt was a little too short after a year-long growth spurt, but she didn't care. It made her feel pretty, so she wore it.

Her mom tried to talk her out of it, and Sam sighed like she was already embarrassed on her behalf, but Tara had been stubborn even then.

She had marched out the door, wings bouncing with every step, and refused to acknowledge the weird looks from other kids.

It was the same when she cut her own bangs in the first grade.

She had gotten bored, found a pair of dull craft scissors, and decided she wanted a change. The result was uneven and way too short, a jagged mess that made her mom gasp when she saw it. Sam winced and tried to smooth it down for her, saying she'd regret it when she looked back at pictures.

Tara just shrugged. It was her hair. If she didn't care, then why should anyone else?

That was how she had always been—bold, impulsive, never second-guessing herself. She wasn't reckless, not really, but she never understood the point of worrying about what people thought.

Her parents didn't know where it came from.

Sam was careful, always weighing her choices, always thinking ahead. She cared about things like reputation, about saying the right thing and making the right impression. She was the responsible one, the one who took after their mom, the one who fit into every expectation placed in front of her.

Tara was different.

She did things because she wanted to, because they felt right in the moment. She never thought too hard about whether she should. And when people questioned her, when they looked at her like she was weird or childish, she never let it get to her.

When she was eight, she declared that she was going to be a superhero for career day, no matter how many times her teacher told her to pick something realistic.

And when she was ten, she ran straight into a fight with a kid twice her size because he made fun of her friend's lisp. She had come home with a bloody nose and a proud grin, and Sam had scolded her the whole time she was pressing an ice pack to her face.

"You don't just fight people, Tara," Sam had said, exasperated. "What if he had really hurt you?"

"He didn't," Tara had replied. "And he won't make fun of her again."

That was what mattered to her—doing what she felt was right, standing by the choices she made, never letting anyone make her feel small.

And shame? That wasn't something she carried.

When other kids went through awkward phases, blushing at old photos or cringing at past decisions, Tara barely blinked. She had no regrets, no embarrassment. She never understood why Sam stressed over things like reputation or what people might whisper behind her back.

Tara didn't let people's opinions shape her. She never had. She was bold, confident, completely sure of herself in a way that most kids weren't.

But that didn't mean she was immune to normal things. Crushes, for example.

Her first celebrity crush had been Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You. She was barely old enough to understand what a crush was, but she knew she liked watching him. He had that effortless charm, that mischievous smile—she figured that was what people meant when they said someone was attractive.

But as she got older, that crush faded.

She expected another one to take its place. That's how it worked, right? You grew up, your tastes changed, you found someone new to fawn over.

Except... she didn't.

At least, not the way she was supposed to.

Because when she rewatched the movie, waiting for that familiar feeling to settle in at the sight of Heath's smirk, it never came. Instead, she felt something entirely different—something she didn't understand—when Julia Stiles appeared on screen.

It wasn't just that she admired her. It wasn't just that she thought she was cool. It was the way her stomach flipped at the sharpness of her voice, the confidence in her posture. It was the way she suddenly found herself hyper-fixated on the little things—her smirk, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the sharp glint in her eyes when she delivered a cutting remark.

And it wasn't just her.

It was the girl in her chemistry class with the pretty hands. The soccer captain who always had her hair in a messy bun. The stranger she saw at the mall, dressed in a leather jacket and looking effortlessly cool.

But she didn't get it.

Because that wasn't supposed to happen.

She had always been confident in who she was. She never questioned herself, never second-guessed her choices. But this? This threw her off. It didn't fit into the version of herself she had always known.

So, for the first time in her life, she did the one thing she never thought she would.

She ignored it.

At least, she tried to.

But it was impossible to ignore something that followed her everywhere. Her eyes drifted—unintentionally at first, but then with growing awareness. The girls in her classes, the ones at the mall, the cashier at the grocery store. It wasn't just about noticing them, either. It was the way her stomach tensed when a girl laughed in that soft, pretty way, or the heat that crept up her neck when one of them brushed past her too closely.

And then there were the movies.

She used to argue hard whenever Mindy and Annika suggested a rom-com over a horror flick. But lately? She still huffed, still acted annoyed, but the protests weren't as strong as before. And when a sex scene came on, she didn't roll her eyes or fake gag anymore.

Because the problem was, she was watching.

Not the man. Never the man.

Her focus lingered elsewhere—on the curves of a woman's body, the softness of her skin, the way her lips parted on a moan. Tara didn't mean to stare, didn't mean to feel anything, but she did.

And that terrified her more than any horror movie ever could.

Not because she thought it was wrong. Tara hadn't grown up in a religious household, where being gay was condemned, or in a place where she'd been taught to believe it was unnatural. Her family never gave her any reason to think she couldn't be whoever she wanted, love whoever she wanted.

She had lesbian friends, gay friends. Mindy was out and proud, never hesitating to call a girl hot in the middle of a conversation. No one ever looked twice. It was normal. Accepted. Fine.

So why didn't it feel fine for her?

She knew it wasn't wrong—she wasn't stupid. She'd never side-eyed anyone for being into girls, never thought twice when someone came out. But somehow, when it was her—when the label curled around her throat and squeezed—it felt different.

Tara had spent her whole life knowing exactly who she was. She had never been unsure. She was bold. Confident. Unapologetic. She cut her own bangs with safety scissors when she was six and shrugged when Sam gasped at the mess she made.

She wore her Halloween costume from last year to school in the middle of March because she liked it. When she made a decision, she stuck to it, never second-guessed herself, never hesitated.

But this? This wasn't something she chose.

It crept up on her, slithered into her brain like an unwanted thought, a splinter she couldn't pull out. And it was infuriating, because she had never questioned herself before—never felt like she had to.

And yet, here she was.

Staring too long at girls in her classes, feeling her chest go tight when a woman laughed a certain way, blinking too fast at the TV whenever a female character undressed.

This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

It was okay for other people to be gay. She never questioned that. It was fine, normal, good for them. But when she looked at herself, at the thought of admitting it, of saying it out loud—it felt impossible. Like it didn't belong to her. Like the rules were different for her, even though she knew, logically, they weren't.

Maybe that was what scared her the most.

That for the first time in her life, she wasn't sure of herself.

That for the first time in her life, she felt ashamed.

She hated it. Hated how it made her feel like a stranger in her own skin, like she had something to hide when she had never hidden anything in her life.

And the worst part? Mindy was starting to notice.

Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she was just being Mindy, teasing for the sake of getting a rise out of her like she always did. But Tara felt exposed all the same, like she was standing in the middle of a room with a spotlight on her, like any second now someone would call her out and she wouldn't have a damn thing to say in return.

It started small.

It started with little things. A smirk when a pretty girl passed by. A knowing look when Tara stumbled over her words around someone attractive. A casual, So, you got a thing for brunettes now? when Tara glanced at someone for half a second too long.

It was nothing. Just jokes. But every time, Tara felt a spike of panic she couldn't shake.

Because she wasn't used to this—this hesitation, this awareness of herself. Normally, if someone called her out on something, she'd just own it. Shrug it off. Yeah, so what? But now, the idea of admitting anything made her stomach twist.

She could play it off, roll her eyes, throw a sarcastic comment back. But Mindy wasn't stupid. And she wasn't letting it go.

One night, they were walking back from a party when Mindy casually nudged her side and said, You totally froze up when that girl talked to you.

Tara scoffed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. I did not.

You did. And you were blushing.

I don't blush.

Mindy had just grinned, like she had already made up her mind. Uh-huh. Sure.

Tara had let it go, pretended it didn't bother her. But later, alone in her room, she caught herself replaying the interaction in her head, her chest tightening with frustration.

Why did she care so much?

Why did it matter what Mindy thought?

Maybe because deep down, she wasn't entirely sure Mindy was wrong.

And if Mindy could see it, then who else could?

That was what scared her the most. Because Mindy wasn't wrong. That was the worst part.

And whenever Mindy made comments about it, Tara would scoff, roll her eyes, shove her shoulder, mutter something about reaching—

But every time, her pulse would quicken, her ears would burn, and she'd feel the panic rise in her chest like a tidal wave.

It wasn't just the waitress at the diner, the one with the dimples and the low-cut uniform. It wasn't just the girl in her sociology class, the one with the raspy voice who always showed up with a cold brew and a half-smirk. It was everywhere.

At the gym, when she caught herself watching the way a girl tied up her ponytail, the smooth shift of her muscles.

At the grocery store, when she found herself staring just a little too long at the woman reaching for something on the top shelf, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach.

At movie night, when she no longer protested the romance movies Mindy and Anika picked—because she didn't mind watching them anymore.

That was the real problem. Because she still hated the cheesy dialogue and the unrealistic plotlines, but whenever there was a sex scene, whenever a woman undressed, Tara wasn't looking away.

She didn't want to.

And that terrified her.

Because it wasn't just a thought anymore, wasn't just something lurking in the back of her mind that she could ignore. It was becoming real, something she couldn't control. She started feeling like people could see it—like it was written all over her, like she had a neon sign above her head flashing Tara Carpenter likes girls.

And maybe nobody actually noticed. Maybe nobody gave a damn. But it didn't matter because she felt exposed anyway, like someone could call her out at any second. Like Mindy's teasing wasn't just teasing anymore—like it was an accusation.

It was in the way people looked at her, in the way her own skin felt too tight, too obvious. She started overthinking every little thing—how long she looked at a girl, whether she was staring, whether her voice sounded different when she spoke to someone pretty. Whether she was acting different.

And the worst part was that she didn't even know if she was right. She didn't know if people actually saw something in her that she hadn't seen before, or if she was just losing her mind over nothing. But it didn't matter. The fear was there, real and suffocating, and it was eating her alive.

So she did the only thing she could think to do.

She got a boyfriend.

Or, more accurately, she asked Chad out.

It wasn't some grand realization. It wasn't even a well-thought-out decision. It was desperation. Panic. Like a reflex, like slamming the brakes at the last second before a crash.

And Chad just happened to be there.

And in a way, it made sense. She'd known him forever. Before high school, before college, before parties and liquor and sneaking out when Sam wasn't looking. He was familiar. Safe. He liked her. Everyone knew that.

Ever since sixth grade, people had whispered about it. Girls in their class used to giggle and nudge each other whenever Chad so much as looked at her. It was obvious.

He was the guy who always found excuses to talk to her, who laughed a little too hard at her jokes, who got weirdly competitive when she dated someone else, even when there was no reason to be.

So when she asked him out, there was no hesitation.

He said yes before she even finished the sentence.

And that was supposed to be it.

She had a boyfriend now. That was supposed to fix everything.

It was supposed to make things go away—the butterflies in her stomach, the heat crawling up her neck whenever a girl smiled at her, the way she noticed things she wasn't supposed to notice.

It was supposed to make Mindy shut up.

It was supposed to be easy.

But it wasn't.

If anything, it only got worse.

At first, she told herself it was working. That it was fine. She had a boyfriend. She was in a relationship. If people had questions before, they wouldn't anymore.

And it wasn't like she hated Chad. He was sweet. Affectionate. A little too eager sometimes, but that wasn't new. And for a while, she let herself believe that this was how it was supposed to be.

But then he kissed her.

And it wasn't bad. There was nothing wrong with it. His lips were soft, his hands were warm, he knew what he was doing. But for some reason, Tara felt wrong.

Like she was trying to force something that wasn't there.

And maybe that would've been fine if it was just the kissing. If it stopped at making out on his couch, at him pulling her into his lap at parties, at his arm draped lazily around her shoulders.

But it didn't stop.

And that was when the real problem started.

Because the first time they had sex, she didn't feel relieved.

She felt nothing.

No spark, no excitement, no rush of pleasure or warmth curling through her stomach. Just the uncomfortable realization that she was waiting for it to feel like something more.

And it never did.

She knew what sex was supposed to feel like—what it was supposed to do to her. But with Chad, it was just... there. Mechanical. Predictable. And all she could think about was whether it would be different if it were a woman.

Would a woman's lips feel softer than Chad's? Would her moans be louder? Would Tara's own moans sound different—less forced, less careful—if she wasn't holding back, if she actually wanted it?

Would the right spots be hit without her having to guide him there?

Would she ache for it the way she was supposed to?

She didn't know.

But she wanted to.

And THAT was the worst part. Because she wasn't supposed to be thinking about this. She wasn't supposed to be comparing. But every time Chad touched her, every time his hands slipped under her shirt, every time he pressed her into the mattress and murmured her name against her skin, she found herself wondering.

Would it feel better?

Would it feel right?

And once that thought was in her head, it wouldn't leave.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to be normal, it wasn't working.

And with every day that passed, she started to realize—maybe it never would.

That thought alone should have terrified her. Should have made her try harder to make things with Chad work, to prove to herself that this was just a phase, a weird glitch in her brain that she could push through.

But instead, it just made her angry.

Because she had done everything RIGHT. She had played by the rules, followed the script, done exactly what she was supposed to do. And yet, here she was, stuck in her own damn head, questioning things she shouldn’t be questioning.

And it didn't help that you existed.

You weren't someone that necessarily stood out in a crowd—not in the way Mindy did, always loud, always on, impossible to ignore. But Tara knew you.

Everybody did.

Because you weren't just out, you were openly out. Unapologetically. The kind of gay that didn't need to be announced because it was just there. The way you dressed, the way you carried yourself, the way you talked about girls without ever hesitating.

Mindy was the same way, sure, but Mindy was Mindy. She had always been that way—loud, cocky, the self-proclaimed expert on all things queer.

But you? You weren't loud. You weren't in people's faces about it. You just were. And for some reason, that made it so much worse.

Because it meant Tara couldn't ignore you.

And she had tried.

God, had she tried.

But no matter what, her eyes always seemed to find you at parties, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, laughing at something someone said. Or in class, when you stretched in your seat, the hem of your shirt riding up just a little. Or when you passed by in the hall, chatting with Anika about some girl you had hooked up with the weekend before.

It made Tara's stomach twist in ways she didn't understand.

Because she wasn't jealous. Not really.

So then why did she care?

Why did it bother her so much?

Why did she hate how easy it seemed for you? How you never hesitated, never stumbled over your words, never had to second-guess every single thing you felt?

Maybe that's why she had looked at you that night at the party.

Maybe that's why she had kept looking.

And maybe that's why, when she finally realized you had caught her, she couldn't bring herself to look away.

The party had been the same as every other frat party—loud, overcrowded, the air thick with cheap beer and sweat and the distant scent of weed. The living room was packed, music shaking the walls, bodies pressed together, some dancing, some just using it as an excuse to grope each other. The kitchen was worse, sticky floors and an overworked fridge stuffed with liquor bottles, people shouting over each other as they took shots, beer pong cups scattered across every available surface.

It wasn't Tara's scene. Not really. But Mindy had dragged her out, Anika too, and after a couple of drinks, the haze had settled in just enough to make it bearable.

And then she had seen you.

She hadn't even known you were going to be there. But one second, she was standing near the edge of the living room, half-listening to some guy rant about his business major, and the next, her eyes had locked onto you—and everything else just faded into background noise.

Because you weren't just there.

You were hot.

Tara had always known you were attractive in the way someone KNOWS things without really thinking about it. She had eyes. She wasn't blind. But that night, it hit her. It knocked the air from her lungs, settled thick and heavy in the pit of her stomach, made her pulse in places she shouldn't have been thinking about.

The alcohol made it worse.

She should've been angry—angry that you were here, that you were making her feel things she didn't want to feel. But she wasn't.

She was just staring.

Her grip tightened around her cup, her lips parted slightly as she took you in—your outfit, the way it hugged your body in all the right places, the effortless confidence in the way you carried yourself.

You weren't wearing something basic, like a black cat or a schoolgirl outfit. No, you were dressed as something that exuded confidence, something cocky—mafia boss style, but with a spin that made it impossible to ignore.

A fitted black blazer, tailored to perfection, cinched at the waist with a sleek belt. Underneath, a deep-cut silk blouse, the first few buttons undone just enough to tease, the fabric clinging to your frame in a way that made it hard not to look.

The skirt was short—really short—hugging your hips before stopping dangerously high on your thighs, paired with sheer black stockings that ran smooth down to your heels.

A fake cigar rested between your fingers, just for the effect, and a thin gold chain sat against your collarbone, glinting under the dim party lights. The whole look screamed power, control— trouble.

Tara's body reacted before her brain could catch up.

Her stomach tightened. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, and she felt a rush of heat spread through her—low and needy and completely out of her control.

Because you weren't even trying. You weren't flirting with her, weren't giving her any special attention. You were just existing—laughing with your friends, a drink in hand, head tilting back slightly as you said something that made them all grin.

And yet, Tara felt like she was the one being hunted.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't normal.

And the second you turned your head, the second your eyes met hers, the smirk that tugged at your lips was enough to make her stomach drop.

Because Tara had never expected you to actually notice her.

She had been staring, sure—longer than she should have, more obviously than she meant to. But the idea of you catching her? The idea of you actually seeing her? That hadn't even crossed her mind.

She was frozen for a second, unsure if she should look away, pretend she hadn’t been blatantly checking you out.

But before she could decide, you were already moving—pushing off the counter with an effortless kind of confidence, weaving through the crowd like you had all the time in the world.

And you didn't hesitate. Didn't stop. Walked straight up to her like you had known her for years, like there was no question about it, like this was something that had always been meant to happen.

For a second, she thought you were going to say something cocky. Something teasing, something about the way she had been looking at you, something that would make her panic spike even higher.

Instead, you had just said her name.

Like it was obvious. Like of course you knew who she was.

Tara didn't even remember what she had said back, because her mind had been caught on you. On the way you leaned in a little when you talked, the way you smelled like expensive perfume and vodka, the way the room was too loud but she could still hear you.

And the worst part? She could barely even keep her gaze up.

Her eyes kept drifting—down to the smooth skin of your collarbone, the gold chain resting against it. Lower, to where your silk blouse was open just enough to show a teasing amount of cleavage.

She had snapped her gaze back up quickly, hoping you hadn't noticed.

You had.

After that, she didn't remember much. At least, not in detail.

She remembered you handing her another drink, remembered the feeling of your fingers brushing hers. She remembered how your lips looked around the rim of your glass, how you licked a drop of alcohol off your bottom lip without thinking. She remembered how close you stood, how the warmth of your body practically wrapped around hers, even though you weren't touching.

And she remembered that the second she was with you, she stopped thinking about HIM.

Chad was somewhere—probably off doing some stupid drinking challenge with his teammates, yelling over a game of beer pong, flexing or showing off or whatever the hell he and his sport-obsessed friends did. But the important thing was that he wasn't here.

And Tara didn’t care.

He didn't cross her mind once. Not when you leaned in to say something against her ear, your breath warm against her skin. Not when you laughed at something she said and touched her arm, your fingers grazing her through the sleeve of her jacket. Not when your eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again, slow, deliberate.

And definitely not when she found herself tilting her head, when the alcohol made her bold enough to not overthink, when she kissed you before she could stop herself.

That part was hazy.

All she knew was that one second, you were standing close, and the next, her lips were on yours. And she didn't regret it. Not even a little.

She didn't know who pulled who. Didn't know how it had escalated so quickly. All she knew was that at some point, your fingers curled around her wrist, and she let you guide her through the crowd, past the bodies pressed together, past the couples making out in dark corners, past the booming music.

And then you were in a bedroom.

And that was where everything really started.

Tara barely remembered how you got there. One moment, the party had been a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, the heat of bodies pressing in on her from all sides.

And then, suddenly, it was just you. Just the two of you, the noise of the party fading behind a closed door, leaving nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the pounding of her pulse.

Fuck.

She should have hesitated. She should have thought about Chad. But she didn't.

Not when you were this close, your scent filling her nose—something dark and sweet, like vanilla and smoke. Not when your fingers brushed her wrist, sending a spark up her arm. Not when your gaze flickered down to her mouth like you already knew exactly what she wanted.

And then your lips were on hers, and—fuck.

It wasn't like kissing Chad. With him, it had always been easy, predictable. She knew what to expect, what it would feel like. But this? This was something else entirely. Your lips were softer, but the way you kissed her was anything but. You didn't just kiss—you took. You grabbed her, pulled her into you, kissed her like you owned her.

Tara barely even noticed when her back hit the door. Not when your hands slid beneath her top, fingers ghosting over her ribs, dragging up her sides. Not when your knee pressed between her thighs, making her suck in a sharp breath.

She had never felt like this before.

With Chad, she had always been able to keep a part of herself detached. But with you? There was no thinking. No overanalyzing. Just the sharp, intoxicating press of your body against hers, the way your mouth trailed down her jaw, her neck, biting just hard enough to make her gasp.

Her hands moved on their own, slipping beneath your blazer, pushing it off your shoulders. She barely had time to register the sound of it hitting the floor before her fingers were on the buttons of your shirt, fumbling as she pulled it open.

And then she saw you.

The smooth curve of your shoulders, the way the dim lighting cast shadows along your stomach. The black lace of your bra, barely covering your chest. She couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop wanting.

You grinned like you knew exactly what was going through her mind, and then your hands were on her thighs, gripping tight as you lifted her onto the dresser. Her legs parted without hesitation, wrapping around your waist as your lips crashed back against hers.

Tara didn't remember how her top came off, only that suddenly she was half-naked, her back pressed against the mirror, your hands roaming her body like you needed to touch every inch of her.

And then you were lowering yourself, trailing kisses down her chest, over her stomach, sinking to your knees between her thighs.

Her breath hitched.

Chad had never done this.

And when your mouth pressed against her, when your tongue flicked against her in a way that made her spine arch—

She knew.

This was what she had been craving all along.

And Tara still remembered it.

It wasn't just that it had felt good—it was the way it had felt right. The way her body had reacted to every touch, every flick of your tongue, every bite, every fucking thing you did to her like she had been waiting for it her whole life without even knowing.

She had never felt euphoric before. Never felt her limbs go weak, her head go light, her stomach twist with something dangerously close to desperation. But that night, with your hands gripping her thighs, your mouth between them, your voice murmuring something low and filthy against her skin—it was like a switch had flipped.

With Chad, it had always been just...fine. Nice, in the way that it was supposed to be.

He touched her the way a boyfriend should.

He kissed her the way a boyfriend should.

He made sure she was taken care of, in the way that a boyfriend should.

And Tara had always figured that was enough.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

It was the way you didn't just kiss her—you devoured her. Like she was something to be tasted, something to be enjoyed. It was the way your hands gripped her like you needed her closer, the way your nails dragged over her thighs, the way your tongue moved like you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

And fuck, did she fall apart.

She had never been this loud before. She had never shaken like this, never clutched at the sheets, never let her head fall back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as you pulled every single sound out of her like you owned them.

And you did.

Because it wasn't just what you were doing—it was the way you did it. The way you looked up at her with those fucking eyes, the way you didn't stop, not even when she swore she couldn't take any more, not even when her legs trembled around your shoulders.

And when she finally did come apart, gasping your name, head thrown back, body arching, back hitting the mirror so hard she thought it might crack—she had never felt something like that before.

She knew it was wrong.

She should have felt guilty. She should have felt sick to her stomach, ashamed, horrified at what she had just done. She had Chad—sweet, loyal Chad—waiting for her somewhere downstairs, probably wondering where she had disappeared to. She had a boyfriend, and she had just—

But it didn't feel wrong.

It should have. God, it should have. She should have been scrambling for her clothes, should have been choking on regret, should have been thinking of ways to explain it away. But instead, all she could feel was the aftershocks still pulsing through her body, the ghost of your hands on her skin, the warm, lazy hum in her limbs.

It didn't feel like a mistake.

It didn't feel like something to regret.

It felt like something she had needed.

But she should have pushed you away.

She should have looked at you with disgust, should have spat out some excuse about being drunk, about making a mistake, about how this wasn’t her, about how this couldn’t happen again.

But she didn't.

Because it didn't feel like a mistake.

And when you moved closer, when your fingers trailed lazily over her bare skin, when your lips brushed against her neck as if you were inviting her to take more—to take everything—Tara didn't pull away.

Instead, before she could even think, before she could stop herself, she heard herself asking if you could do this again sometime.

The words had slipped out so easily, like she had been waiting to say them, like they had been sitting on the tip of her tongue for months, just waiting for the chance to be spoken.

And when you smirked, when you leaned in and murmured something she could barely register through the haze in her head, when your lips brushed over hers one last time before pulling away—Tara knew.

She wasn't going to stop.

She couldn’t stop.

Because no matter how wrong it was, no matter how much she should have felt guilty—she wanted it. And that was the worst part.

Or maybe the worst part was that it happened again.

She should have known it would.

Because the moment she walked out of that frat house, the moment she left you behind in that bedroom, she couldn't stop thinking about you. About what had happened. About how fucking good it had felt.

She should have felt guilty.

She should have gone home, called Chad, done something to make this feel like a mistake. But instead, she laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, body still humming, hands gripping the sheets because she couldn't fucking sleep—because she wanted more.

And then, a few days later, she got a text.

meet me in ten.

No context. No explanation. Just an address and a ticking clock.

She shouldn't have gone.

But she did.

She told herself she wasn't going for that, that she just wanted to see what you had to say, that she just wanted to—fuck, she didn't know. But she found herself getting in her car anyway, her hands tightening around the wheel the closer she got.

The address you had sent led her to an empty parking lot just outside of town, the kind of place people went when they didn't want to be seen. Your car was parked in the farthest corner, backed up against a row of trees, tinted windows hiding whatever happened inside.

It was the perfect spot.

And Tara knew exactly why you had picked it.

Her heart was pounding when she parked beside you. Her body was already warm, already tingling with anticipation as she climbed into your passenger seat.

And the second you looked at her—smirking like you knew she had been thinking about this all fucking week—she realized she had been waiting for this to happen again.

That was how it started.

One meeting turned into two.

Two turned into three.

And then, before she even knew how it had happened, it became a routine.

Every Sunday.

A text. A location. Your car parked somewhere no one would find you. And then hands on skin, lips crashing together, nails dragging, teeth biting, clothes being pushed aside because neither of you ever had the patience to take them off completely.

She knew it was fucked up.

She knew it was wrong.

But that didn't stop her from showing up every damn week.

And the worst part wasn't that she was lying.

It was how she was lying.

Because of all the excuses she could have used—homework, hangouts with Mindy, anything that actually made sense—the one she found herself using the most was that she was going to church.

Fucking church.

She didn't even believe in anything. Had never been the type to sit through a sermon, had never even entertained the idea of faith, and yet—somehow—Chad never questioned it.

Maybe it was because he was just that gullible. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to suspecting her of anything. Or maybe it was because, despite knowing her for over a year, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

Either way, every Sunday when she told him she couldn't hang out, when she said she had to go to mass, when she put on some half-assed ugh my mom’s making me go tone, he just accepted it.

Told her to have fun.

Asked her what the sermon was about later.

And Tara had to sit there, staring at her phone, trying to come up with some bullshit answer while still catching her breath.

Because she hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been in church.

She hadn't been praying.

She had been on her knees, mouth wrapped around your cocky little smirk, hands digging into your thighs. She had been moaning a name that wasn't his, head thrown back against the seat, panting like she had just run a marathon.

She had been gripping the leather interior with trembling fingers, legs wrapped around your head with the strength of metal bars, back arching so hard she thought she might snap in two.

And Chad had gone about his Sunday completely clueless.

___

"Fuck." Tara moaned, breath hitching, nails digging into your back as her head hit the window.

Like every other Sunday.

The windows were fogged up, streaked with condensation, the air inside thick with heat and the sharp scent of sweat.

The car rocked slightly with every movement, the backseat cramped but familiar, the leather sticking to her skin. It had been like this every time—fast, desperate, no hesitation.

You'd barely gotten inside before she was pulling you to the back, mouths crashing together, hands tugging at clothes, both of you too impatient to take your time.

Now, she was spread out beneath you, thighs trembling against your shoulders, fingers tangled in your hair as your tongue worked her over like you had all the time in the world.

Her skirt pushed up, undergarments long forgotten, her shirt still halfway on, bunched up under her ribs from when you'd shoved it out of the way. The feeling of your mouth on her was enough to send her spiraling, but it was the way you held her there—firm, unrelenting, like you had no plans of stopping anytime soon—that made her body shake with every flick of your tongue.

She could hear herself, the obscene wet sounds mixing with her ragged breaths, the moans she couldn't hold back no matter how hard she bit her lip. She had never sounded like this before, not with Chad, not with anyone.

It was a different kind of pleasure—overwhelming, raw, like her entire body was caught in a storm she couldn't control. Every Sunday, it was the same. You had her unraveling, melting under your touch, forgetting everything except the way you made her feel.

She didn't even realize she was grinding against your face until your grip tightened on her thighs, holding her still as you sucked at her clit just right. Her back arched, a sharp cry spilling from her lips, her mind blanking completely. Fuck. She was close. Already. Again. It was always like this with you.

And Chad had no idea.

Tara's head tilted back, lips parting, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "Oh my—fuck, just like that—" Her voice broke around the words, half a moan, half a plea.

She could barely think, her mind slipping into static, body tightening under your touch. Every drag of your tongue sent another pulse of pleasure through her, her hands fisting the fabric of your jacket like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

The air was thick, heavy, carrying the sound of her moans, the quiet creak of the leather beneath her, the wet, obscene noises of your mouth working her over.

It should've been embarrassing—the way she was falling apart so quickly, the way she could already feel the heat coiling in her stomach, twisting tighter and tighter—but it wasn't. Not with you.

Your grip on her thighs tightened as you hummed against her, and Tara nearly lost it. A broken cry ripped from her throat, her body jerking, hips bucking up against your face. "Oh, shit—" Her fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, one slipping into your hair, gripping tight. "Don't stop—don't—"

Like you ever would.

She felt the way you smirked against her, cocky as ever, before your tongue flicked over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes that had her whimpering, her legs shaking. "Jesus, you're so—fuck." Her voice was wrecked, raw, words tumbling out before she could stop them.

She wanted to say something more—something coherent—but the way you sucked at her clit, the way your nails dug into her hips, the way she could already feel herself spiraling again—

She was gone.

Tara came with a strangled moan, her whole body tensing, back arching, thighs tightening around your head like she never wanted to let go. Her hands gripped your hair, pulling, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless, trembling. Her head lolled back against the window, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath.

And then she felt it—your hands smoothing over her thighs, your mouth pulling away, your breath warm against her skin. She forced her eyes open, still hazy, only to be met with your gaze—dark, intense, that fucking smirk tugging at your lips. Like you knew exactly what you'd just done to her.

But you weren't judging.

You just watched her, taking in the way she was still trying to recover, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her skin was flushed. Then, slowly, you dragged your hands down her legs, prying them from where they were still locked around you, letting them fall slack against the leather seat.

"So," you mused, voice low, teasing. "What excuse did you use this time?"

Tara bit her lip, still catching her breath, her fingers twitching against the seat as she let out a shaky little laugh. "Would you believe me if I said shopping?"

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

Shopping. That had been the excuse this time. And for a moment, Chad had actually questioned it—had cocked his head, confused, when she told him she was heading out alone. Shopping wasn't really her thing, at least not solo. But then he just shrugged, distracted by something on his phone, and that was that. No suspicion, no follow-up questions.

Tara had almost felt guilty for how easy it was. Almost.

She should have felt guilty now, too—sitting there, legs still weak, skin still flushed, while you smirked at her like you knew exactly how ruined she was.

But the moment she saw you shift, reaching for your bag, zipping it open with a deliberate slowness, guilt was the last thing on her mind.

"Well," you murmured, pulling something from inside, "I've done some shopping."

Tara's breath caught when she saw what it was.

A strap.

It was sleek, black, and bigger than Chad's actual one—noticeably so.

Tara swallowed. You and she had talked about this before. The first time you brought it up, she had barely hesitated before agreeing, because she had been sure—certain—that the whole P in V thing would be different with you. Better. More enjoyable. And after everything else you'd done to her, she had no doubt about that.

Still, she found herself shifting in place, heart picking up, torn between excitement and nerves. She hadn't done this with you before. Hadn't done this with any girl before. But fuck—just the sight of it, the thought of it, had heat curling low in her stomach all over again.

Tara gulped, eyes locked on the strap, but her mind was already ahead—already picturing it all before it even happened. How it would feel. How you would feel.

You didn't move yet. Just scanned her face, like you were waiting for some hesitation, some sign that she would be scared off. But she wasn't. She couldn't be.

Your smirk deepened, head tilting just slightly, the unspoken question clear in your eyes—want to?

Tara nodded. Too fast. Too desperate. She knew that. But she did.

So she moved without thinking, shifting onto all fours, her knees pressing into the worn leather of the backseat. Her back arched slightly, her hands splayed out in front of her as she tried to steady herself, breathing uneven.

Behind her, she could hear you—hear the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of buckles being adjusted, the quiet exhale you let out as you fit the strap into place. Then the warmth of your hand running down her back, over her hips, fingers brushing between her thighs before you paused.

Her stomach tensed at the thought. At the thought.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists where they rested against the seat. Then your hands were on her again—trailing down her spine, over the curve of her hips, fingertips brushing against her thighs, teasing her. She shuddered at the touch, hips rolling back instinctively, already seeking more.

You let out a quiet chuckle, low and teasing, before pressing yourself against her, letting her feel the weight of it. She sucked in a breath, her entire body tightening at the sensation alone.

You asked if she was ready.

She barely managed to whisper yes before you pushed in.

Her mouth fell open, a sharp, broken sound leaving her as her body stretched around you. Her arms nearly gave out beneath her, and her head dropped forward, forehead pressing against the window.

It was almost like the pleasure rushed straight to her eyes, like it was so intense she couldn't even see for a moment—just a wave of heat, of pressure, of something she had never felt before.

The first thrust was slow, teasing, like you were letting her feel every inch of it before pulling back just as carefully. Even that had her sucking in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the seat beneath her.

The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming in a way she hadn't expected. It was nothing like before. It was so much more. And when you did it again, thrusting just a little deeper, just a little harder, a gasp tore from her lips.

You didn't stop. Your hips snapped forward again, finding a rhythm that was steady but deep, every push forcing her further into the seat. The car rocked just slightly with each movement, the damp heat of the space making every sensation ten times more intense. The sounds of it—of skin meeting skin, of wet, filthy noises between her legs—filled her ears, mixed with the ragged breaths leaving both of you.

And the moans.

Tara bit her lip, trying to quiet herself, but it was impossible. A moan ripped from her throat as you hit a spot that made her whole body jolt, the muscles in her stomach tensing. Her head tipped forward, forehead pressing harder into the window, fogging it up even more. It was getting harder to hold herself up, her arms already trembling from the effort of staying up on all fours, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Not when you sounded like that.

The breathy little grunts leaving your lips—low and raspy, like you were getting just as lost in it as she was—made something coil tight in her stomach. She wished she could see you. She tried to picture your face behind her, how your brows must've been furrowed, how your mouth was probably open, panting, the way your jaw clenched every time she clenched around you.

"Jesus—" The word came out of her before she could stop it, breathless and desperate, her voice shaking. She felt you smirk against her back, your lips ghosting over her spine before nipping at her shoulder, sending a shiver down her body.

"What's wrong, baby?" you murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Tara's breath hitched.

It wasn't just what you said. It was how you said it—so low, so full of amusement, like you knew exactly what you were doing to her, like you loved watching her fall apart beneath you. And baby. Fuck, she hadn't expected that. The way it sounded coming from your mouth—rough, teasing, possessive—sent heat surging through her body.

She whimpered, fingers clawing at the seat. Her hips rolled back against you, desperate, wordlessly begging for more.

Then.

A buzzing cut through the thick air, sharp and insistent, demanding attention.

Tara barely registered it at first, still too caught up in the aftershocks of everything—her heavy breathing, the way her body still pulsed around you, the lingering heat of your hands gripping her hips. But then you stopped moving, and her moan died in her throat, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breaths and that damn vibration filling the car.

Then she turned her head slightly, trying to glance back at you.

You didn't look worried. Not even a little. If anything, you looked amused. Your eyes gleamed with something dark, something teasing, as you tilted your head toward the phone in a silent suggestion. Check it.

Tara swallowed. Her whole body felt hot, sweat sticking to her skin, thighs still twitching around you. The last thing she wanted to do was answer her phone right now, but the vibrating didn't stop. Whoever it was, they weren't giving up.

She exhaled sharply, adjusting her weight on her knees before reaching forward, stretching as far as she could without moving off of you. It wasn't easy. Her back arched deeper, pushing her against you even more, making her even more aware of where you still were, thick and unmoving inside her.

She tried to keep quiet, to focus, but the angle sent a wave of pressure through her core, and a quiet, breathy moan slipped out before she could stop it.

She clenched her jaw, swallowing hard, and finally grasped the phone. Her fingers were slick with sweat, struggling to get a grip as she flipped it over in her palm. She held it tightly, worried it might slip right out of her hand with how weak she felt.

Her breath was uneven as she turned the screen over, eyes flicking to the caller ID.

Her stomach dropped.

Chad.

Tara's grip on the phone tightened as she stared at Chad's name on the screen, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Her first thought was that she couldn't possibly answer. There was no way. Not like this—shaky, breathless, body still stretched and filled, the heat of you pressing against her skin. She wasn't even sure if she could form a coherent sentence right now, let alone talk to Chad without him immediately knowing something was off.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she tilted the phone just slightly so you could see.

Your gaze flicked down, taking in the name without any hint of concern, and Tara swore she saw the corner of your mouth twitch up like you were actually enjoying this. Like it amused you how completely fucked she was in this moment.

She gulped, feeling her breath hitch, fingers twitching around the device. Her mind spun, spiraling into every possible excuse she could come up with, every reason she had to not answer. Maybe she could just ignore it—say she was busy, say she didn't hear it, say her phone died. He wouldn't suspect anything, right? He never did. He never even—

Your voice cut through her thoughts, low and smooth. "Answer it."

Tara's breath caught in her throat. She blinked, eyes snapping to you, like she wasn't sure she'd heard you right. "What?"

Your smirk deepened. You leaned in, just enough for her to feel your breath ghost over her shoulder. And then, slower this time—deliberate, teasing, dripping with amusement—you repeated, "Answer the phone."

Her body tensed. Her stomach flipped. Her throat felt like it had closed up completely. There was no way. She shook her head, already stammering, "I—I can't—"

But before she could even finish, you gripped her hips and pulled her back onto the strap, burying yourself deeper with one swift motion.

Tara choked on a loud, surprised moan, her body jolting, the phone nearly slipping from her fingers.

She barely had a second to recover before your voice came again, low and firm and completely in control.

"Answer him, Tara."

So she did.

Because she couldn't say no to you—not when you made her feel like this. Not when her whole body was on fire, every nerve ignited, pulsing with heat. Not when you fucked her like you did, when you had her melting into every single touch, when you knew exactly how to make her fall apart.

Her finger shook as it hovered over the screen, hesitation tightening in her chest. But then, with a sharp inhale, she slid her thumb across to accept the call, bringing the phone up to her ear.

The device was warm, heated from the stuffy air in the car, and when it pressed against her flushed skin, she felt the contrast—felt just how overheated she was, how wrecked she already looked. Her breath wavered as she tried to pull herself together, forcing a swallow past the lump in her throat.

Then, as steadily as she could manage—sweet, happy, normal—she breathed out a soft, "Hi, baby."

It almost sounded real. Almost. If not for the slight tremble in her voice, the way it wavered at the edges, betraying her.

Chad didn't seem to notice. "Hey, babe," he greeted easily, his voice light and casual. "You still at the mall? They're closing soon, just wondering when you're heading back."

Tara's stomach twisted. Still at the mall. She barely stopped herself from laughing at the irony. She hadn't been anywhere near the mall. She hadn't been walking around all day, hadn't spent the afternoon wandering stores, browsing through clothes, or carrying shopping bags.

No, she'd spent it in your lap. On her back, on her knees, on all fours. She'd spent it with your hands all over her, your mouth on her, making her come over and over again until her legs had trembled and she thought she might actually black out from the intensity of it.

Chad kept talking, completely oblivious. "Mindy and Anika are having a movie night. Thought we could go, but if you're too tired from walking around all day, I get it."

Tara parted her lips, just about to answer—

And then you moved.

Her breath hitched violently as you pushed back inside her, slow but deep, making her grip the phone tighter. Her eyes fluttered, jaw clenching as she struggled not to react.

You weren't done with her. Not even close.

Her head dipped forward, eyes squeezing shut as you dragged out again, the pace torturously slow. She could hear it, could hear how wet she was, how easily you moved inside her, and the realization sent another wave of heat crashing through her body.

She started nodding—at nothing, at Chad's words, at whatever he was saying—just to distract herself. Just to have something to focus on besides the way you were ruining her.

But then you picked up the pace.

Faster. Harder.

Tara's breathing grew heavier, her mouth falling open as her fingers gripped the phone like a lifeline.

Chad finished talking, clearly waiting for a response.

She gulped, trying to focus, trying so hard to make her voice sound normal.

"Y-yeah, uhm—"

Her breath caught, her body jerking as you rolled your hips just right. She had to bite her lip—hard—to keep herself from making a sound.

You weren't making it easy.

You were deep, hitting the perfect spot every single time, making her entire body feel like it was burning.

Her lips trembled, fingers tightening around the phone as she struggled to push out the words. "I'd—" she inhaled sharply, voice breaking, "—I'd love to go."

Her thighs twitched. She tried so hard to keep herself still, to not move against you, to not push back for more.

She could feel your smirk. Could practically hear the amusement in the way you exhaled through your nose, in the way you didn't stop, didn't slow down.

She sucked in another shaky breath.

"I—" she panted, each syllable shaky, "I'm leaving soon. I'll—" her voice hitched again as you thrust just right, "—I'll text you when I-I'm done."

There was a short pause before Chad's voice came through again, casual, completely unaware.

"Why are you so out of breath?"

Tara's heart practically stopped.

She had to think fast. Her brain scrambled for something, anything, that would make sense, that would explain why she sounded like this.

"I—" her voice wavered, still breathless, "I'm just—trying to make it to Nordstrom before they close."

The lie slipped out before she could even process it.

And the worst part?

He fucking believed it.

"Alright," he said, not suspicious at all. Not even a little. "Just text me when you're on your way home."

Tara could barely focus, barely even hear him over the pounding of her own heart.

And then—then—he added it. The three words she'd been waiting for, dreading, knowing it was coming.

"I love you."

Tara squeezed her eyes shut. "I love you too," she panted out, forcing the words past her lips, rushing to get it over with—

But then you thrust forward. Hard.

So fucking hard.

A sharp cry ripped from her throat before she could stop it, before she could even think. It wasn't just a moan—it was loud, raw, completely unfiltered, and so obviously not the sound of someone running through a mall.

Her eyes flew open, her whole body freezing as panic crashed over her like a wave.

Oh, fuck.

Her mouth hung open, heart hammering, hands clenching around the phone. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"What the fuck was that?" He let out a small laugh. Not mad. Not suspicious. Just genuinely confused.

Tara's stomach twisted.

She could feel your breath against her skin. Could feel the way you stilled, the way you were watching her, waiting to see what she'd say.

Her brain was a fucking mess, completely scrambled, thoughts running too fast, too panicked.

She had to fix this.

Quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut again. "I stubbed my toe," she rushed out, her voice tight, breathless. Then she forced out a hiss through her teeth, as if to sell it. "Fuck, that hurt."

Chad chuckled on the other end of the line, that same stupid little laugh of his that made Tara's stomach twist. Completely oblivious. Completely unaware of what was happening, what had been happening for weeks now. "God, babe, you're so clumsy."

Tara barely managed to force out a weak "Mhm." It was all she could get out without completely giving herself away.

But the truth was, that sound wasn't for him.

It was for you.

Because she was desperate.

And she needed you to keep going.

She was so fucking close—every muscle in her body was tensed, her thighs trembling where they pressed against the leather seats, her breath coming out in shallow little gasps as she tried to keep some level of composure. And you knew it. You fucking knew it.

She felt the way your hands flexed against her waist, felt the teasing drag of your fingertips as they traced up her stomach, slow, calculated, making her shiver. Felt the way your hips barely moved now, holding back, waiting, making her want to fucking scream.

She wasn't going to make it if Chad kept talking.

Her jaw clenched, and she could already feel herself slipping, feel the heat pooling lower, spreading through her entire body. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and she couldn't be on the phone with Chad when she came.

Her fingers gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, the screen slick against her sweaty palm. She couldn't even register what Chad was saying anymore, his voice a distant, meaningless hum in the background.

"Well, alright," he finally said, sounding distracted, like he was half paying attention, "just hurry up before they start the movie without us."

You shifted behind her, your fingers pressing just a little harder against her burning skin, and Tara's breath hitched.

She couldn't do this anymore.

Her voice came out rushed, breathless, almost strained—"Yeah, I will—bye."

She fumbled with the phone, barely managing to end the call before her entire body gave out, slumping forward onto her forearms as she let out a shaking exhale.

And then, the second the call disconnected, you slammed into her again.

Her forehead pressed against the window as she let out a choked gasp, her entire body trembling. She was so fucking close—so close she could taste it, feel it in every inch of her, her thighs burning, her back arching as she tried to push herself back against you.

She wasn't even thinking anymore. Couldn't think.

Not with how fucking deep you were, how perfectly you hit every spot inside her that had her toes curling and her fingers twitching uselessly against the seat.

She felt your hands tighten around her hips, grounding her, holding her exactly where you wanted her. And then—

"Good job, baby."

Tara's breath stuttered.

"You did so good."

And that—that was the last straw.

Her entire body tensed, pleasure hitting her so hard it nearly knocked the air from her lungs. And then she broke.

She came with a loud, uncontrollable moan, her back arching, her arms giving out beneath her. The orgasm ripped through her in wave after wave of unbearable pleasure, leaving her shaking, gasping, crying out as you kept going, dragging it out, making it last until she couldn't even fucking breathe.

The car was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. Tara felt like she could still hear the blood rushing through her ears, her body tingling in the aftermath. She barely registered the feeling of you pulling out until the loss of contact made her whimper slightly, her legs trembling as she collapsed fully onto the seat beneath her.

Her arms felt weak. Her thighs burned. And her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. You weren't much better, panting as you sat back, but fuck—Tara was completely spent.

Still, she did what she always did. Without a word, she forced herself to sit up on shaking arms and began fixing her clothes, her fingers clumsily pulling her underwear back up, straightening her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. She was still flushed, her skin still burning, and her hair was an absolute mess, but at least she didn't look completely wrecked.

You watched her, an amused glint in your eyes, and then, just as she was running her fingers through her tangled hair, you smirked.

"How's that toe you stubbed?"

Tara froze for a second, then let out a breathless laugh, rolling her eyes as she shoved you lightly. "Fuck you," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it—just the kind of teasing exasperation that made you grin wider.

She reached down, grabbing her shoes from where they had ended up discarded on the floor. She slipped them on, lacing up her white Converse with slightly shaky fingers. When she was done, she glanced back at you, hesitating for just a second before pushing open the car door.

The cool night air hit her instantly, and she took a deep breath, stepping out onto the pavement. But before she shut the door, she turned back around, looking at you over her shoulder.

"Next Sunday?"

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you met her gaze.

"Next Sunday."

And with that, she shut the door and walked away.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #mabel x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #ask #sam carpenter x reader #smut #tara carpenter smut

538 notes · View notes

bootycallin · 2 days ago

Text

i’m yours

꩜ .ᐟ basically; free use w sevika. that’s it.

cw: wlw. free use (obviously). domtop!sevika. somno. sevika’s mean mean mean. overstim. strap usage (r!receiving). brief mentions of blood. mention of sevika cumming quick lol. the woman’s stressed. angry sex if you squint. no foreplay she just shoves it.

💿 ะ currently playing; isabel larosa - i’m yours

a/n: just as a cautionary warning, everything in this fic is, obviously, fictional. both parties are consenting adults. all actions are strictly consensual. remember; foreplay and safe words are essential. be safe my loves!

free use with sevika, who was honestly ecstatic at the thought of using you anytime she wanted. she’s a busy woman, alright? constantly running errands, beating up whatshisname and godknowswho in the name of silco, takin’ care of a certain blue haired brat who just can’t seem to keep her ass out of trouble—it’s a miracle her head hasn’t exploded yet, purely from migraines.

what’s a better way for her to destress, if not to fuck your brains out? the first few times, it worked just fine. in the kitchen, bathroom, couch, bed, wherever—the real problem arose when she started working more late hours, getting back home at the early hours of the morning. two or three A.M, she walked into you two’s shared bedroom, only to see you deep in your sleep.

now, sevika’s many things. a criminal? yes. tough? very. rude? most of the time. horny? more often than not, when you’re around. controlled? hardly—not with you.

all that being said, she’s not a monster. she couldn’t even dream about fucking you without your say-so.

(she did, once. she swears up and down she doesn’t feel guilty about anything, but that shit has her at gun point. lives in her head like it pays rent. still embarrassed at how she woke up to mortifyingly wet boxers, having to quietly slip out of bed and into the bathroom to take care of the throbbing between her legs.

begrudgingly, she must admit it; still turns her on, still gets her off. every fucking time. comes crawling back whenever she needs to rub one out, leaving her wet, horny and ashamed. the fuck is wrong with you, woman?)

then, you talked to her about it. you mentioned how low her sex drive has been—and she wanted to roll her eyes. because hell no. her libido’s never been higher. she swears her brain just turns anger into (im)pure, debauched hunger, when you’re around. all she wants to do when she comes back home from work is have your pussy all for herself, whether she’s plowing you into the next century or rubbing her own cunt against yours. she just fucking needs you. and yet, she she’s been masturbating like a teenage boy who just discovered porn. it’s embarrassing.

“you’re always asleep,” sevika grumbled, arms crossed over her chest. her eyes are averted, avoiding your gaze. she’s never been shy, but the thoughts that are running through her head are making second guess herself.

“and?” you say, from the kitchen where you cooked. it’s like something in her brain switches. she perks up, eyebrow raised in that familiar way.

“what do you mean, and?” she asked. you had said that so casually. so normal, like she wasn’t slowly getting more and more excited at that mere, single-word reply.

“you can use me, if you want.” you said, turning the stove off and grabbing plates for the two of you.

use me. you said use me. use me, use me, use me.

she’s absolutely dumbstruck.

that night, dinner was only eaten a good hour or two later. might’ve as well been seconds, she had you as her main course. gods, how much she missed it—how you cried and moaned, screamed her name, writhed beneath her. she tries not to think about how quickly she came because of it all, because that’s just embarrassing. she made up for it by giving you more orgasm than we’re really necessary, so by the end of it, you could barely give a fuck about whether she came in two minutes or ten.

you talked about it, after. sure, you were kind of dumb and tired, but you still did. she asked you all possible questions. are you sure? you know what that means? what’s gonna be our safe word? she’s still worried. the last thing she wants to do is to hurt you.

(oh, how soft she’s gotten. fuck you, you little nymph. she can’t get you out of her head.)

the next day, she already has work. slipping out of your shared bed early in the morning, gaze briefly flicking towards your sleeping form.

fuck, you’re so cute. she still feels a pang of guilt over the thought of freely using you. she’s probably not gonna do it. it feels wrong, even with consent. she’s not that bad.

her day was exhausting. absolutely infuriating, too. silco had her running all over the goddamn place, running errands, going on meetings, shimmer and more shimmer, and not to mention jinx being a pain in her fucking ass—

she has to fight the urge to slam the door behind her when she comes back home, a good two in the morning. and as soon as she steps into the room, you just have to be there. sleeping peacefully, one leg hitched up, arms under your pillow, loose, nearly transparent sleep shorts just barely covering your ass.

you did this shit on purpose.

“fuck.” she groaned out loud, because, just when she’s trying to be a better person…

no. scratch that. she needs to be inside you, stat.

she damn near rips all her clothes off, crawling into bed with you. her arms, surprisingly gentle for how stressed she was when they flipped you around . she didn’t want to wake you yet, no. she wanted you to wake up with her cock filling you up. wanted you to feel that first thing out of sleep.

you’re so fucking angelic under her. pretty, semi-transparent, silky baby-doll hanging off your body, hitched up to slightly show a sliver of your tummy. she might just spontaneously explode. and when she tugs your shorts down? fuuuck.

“you fucking minx.”

of course you’re commando. of course you’d wear no fucking panties. just to tease her.

sevika grunted, wrenching your legs open. your pretty cunt was already so pliant for her, folds shiny. slick. you’re wet and you’re still asleep. call that pavlov’s pussy; soon as you feel her close, you’re wet. ready. you’re not even awake and yet look at you. begging.

god, she was planning on getting you ready, but you were making it hard.

“the things you don’t do to me,” she grumbled, shifting in bed to get her harness on, movements nearly sloppy with how quick she tried to be. she pauses when you shuffle, body reacting to the feeling of her heavy silicone cock tapping against your stomach. your body knows her so well, huh?

she considers just shoving it all in, wake you up whining. as the considerate lover she is, she doesn’t—rather, she douses her cock in lube, ‘til it’s practically dripping, then presses her tip against your hole.

there’s a tiny squelch noise from the contact. oh, your pussy’s just so ready.

her palm finds your lower stomach, her mechanical one holding your hips to stabilize herself as she slowly but surely fills you up. inch. by. inch.

of course, you’re quick to notice—sevika doesn’t have one small strap, after all. it’s always the ones that completely fill you up, like she’s in your guts.

you whimpered in your sleep. writhing, eyes still shut. you’ve obviously noticed, though you’re still in that half-asleep state. she shushed you, thumb rubbing little circles on your skin.

“still. still. i’ve got you,” her voice was reassuring as she could make it, even through all the panting and grunting. sevika’s not a comforting woman, but oh well.

“shhh… fuck, just take it, baby,” her hips draw backwards, pulling out halfway and then back in. the amount of self-control it doesn’t take for her to just slam herself inside you…

“mh—“ you whimpered, squirm, but her firm hand kept you still, stopping you from running away. its sudden, you just feel something thick, big filling you up. of course, you’re confused at first.

then your eyes flutter open. bleary, slightly teary. you’re met with the eyes of your girlfriend. on top of you, flushed and sweaty already. that’s all it takes for her to start picking up her pace.

“vika—“

you can barely get a word in, her thrusts going from slow and shallow to deep and hard real quick, as soon as she saw you were at least semi-aware of your surroundings and could tell it was her.

“shh. shh. fuck, i’ve got you,” she grunted, soothed as best as she could. grabbing your hips. she could feel herself filling you up, cock bulging your tummy ever so slightly. she can feel how deep she is, and god does that turn her on.

“‘vika—ah!”

she’s not thinking anymore. her brain is numb. empty. filled with thoughts of just fucking you, filling you up, dumbing you down on her cock like she isn’t the dumb one, fucking you like an animal, a wolf in a rut. all she can think about is filling you up ‘til she can’t tell where you end and she begins.

the room is a nasty concerto of skin smacking against skin, shared grunts and moans and whine, your little whimpers of ‘ah! ah! ah!’ and her cursing, unable to keep herself quiet. you’re chasing your peak before you can even think about it, thrashing, head spinning. screams of her name ripped from your throat. you’re sure you would get some nasty looks from your neighbors, but who said you could give any fucks about that? not when you’ve got your amazing girlfriend balls deep inside you.

she watches as your back arches, eyes rolling as you let out a breathless, loud cry of pleasure. your legs shake, tense, muscles trembling as your pussy clenched, creaming all over the expanse of her cock. she fucks you all through it, tip repeatedly kissing your cervix. she’s not done. not until she herself cums, groaning loudly and collapsing on top of you.

and she won’t stop.

“vika!” you scream, tears forming in your eyes out of overstimulation. yet your legs are wrapped around her waist, grasping at her, nails scratching down and dragging down her back ‘til she’s sure you draw blood.

“i know. i know, baby,” she growls at the lobe of your ear, hips restless. “so much, yeah? so much. but take it, take it. i’ll give you everything. just.”

plap. “take.” plap. “it.”

plap, plap, plap.

she’ll make sure you do.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

#╰┈➤BOOTYCALLIN⨾#lesbian #wlw #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane smut #sevika x reader #sevika x fem reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane #sevika #x reader

707 notes · View notes

landoughnut · 3 days ago

Text

The Williams Rule

♡ masterlist - request - emoji anons

♡ pairing - carlos sainz x fem!reader

♡ summary - carlos finally wins over the teams chief strategist after way too many attempts asking you out

♡ warnings - simp/desperate/persistant carlos, flluffff

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.6k | posting this here because im so sad for Carlos 💔

"No."

"But—"

"Still no."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

You look up from your laptop to find Carlos Sainz giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, leaning against your desk in the Williams garage. It's a look that probably works wonders on most people, but you've built up an immunity. Mostly.

"Let me guess," you say, trying not to smile. "You were about to invite me to dinner. Again."

He grins, unashamed. "Actually, I was going to suggest breakfast this time. You know, mix it up a little."

"Carlos."

"What? Breakfast is very professional. People have business breakfasts all the time."

You give him your best unimpressed look, the one you've perfected after two years as William's chief strategy analyst. "And would this be a business breakfast?"

"It could be," he says hopefully. "We could discuss... race strategy?"

"We do that every day. Right here. In the garage. Where we work."

He drops into the chair beside your desk, and you pretend not to notice how good he looks in his race suit, sleeves tied around his waist. It's unfair, really, how someone can be both adorable and devastatingly handsome at the same time.

"You know," he says conversationally, "most people would be flattered that their driver keeps asking them out."

"Most people don't have to maintain professional relationships with their drivers."

"Ah, but I'm not just any driver. I'm your favorite driver."

You snort. "Charles is my favorite driver."

"You wound me, mi corazón." He clutches his chest dramatically. "After all we've been through?"

"All we've been through is you interrupting my work to ask me out seventeen times—"

"Twenty-three times," he corrects.

"You're keeping count?"

His smile turns softer, more genuine. "Of course I am. I'm hoping you'll say yes before we reach fifty."

Something warm flutters in your chest, but you squash it down. "Carlos..."

"I know, I know. The Williams rule." He sighs. "'No dating within the team.' But rules are made to be broken, no?"

"Says the man who got a penalty last race for track limits."

"That was different! The wind—"

"Sainz!" James' voice cuts through the garage. "Stop distracting my best strategist and get to your engineering briefing!"

Carlos stands with exaggerated reluctance. "This isn't over," he warns you playfully.

"It never is with you," you call after him, fighting a smile as he walks backward, still watching you until he nearly trips over a tire.

Emma, your assistant, slides into the seat Carlos vacated. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "the Williams rule isn't actually written anywhere."

"Don't you start."

"I'm just saying, have you seen the way he looks at you when you're explaining race scenarios? Like you're explaining the secrets of the universe instead of tire degradation data."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "He's just... intense about racing."

"Right. That's definitely it. Nothing to do with how he brings you coffee every morning—"

"He brings the whole strategy team coffee!"

"—or how he only sits next to you in briefings—"

"That's because I give the best feedback!"

"—or how he literally lights up every time you walk into a room."

You bury your face in your hands. "I hate you."

"No you don't," she says cheerfully. "You hate that I'm right."

The problem is, she kind of is. You've been fighting this attraction to Carlos since your first day at Williams, when he'd introduced himself by accidentally spilling espresso all over your carefully prepared notes and spent the next hour helping you recreate them, making you laugh despite your initial irritation.

Twenty-three asks later (apparently), and it's getting harder to say no.

Later that afternoon, you're focused on simulation data when a sandwich appears on your desk.

"You missed lunch," Carlos says simply.

You blink at the sandwich, then at him. "I had lunch."

"Coffee is not lunch."

"I'm fine, I'll eat later—"

"You get grumpy when you don't eat properly," he says, pulling up his chair again. "Remember Monaco? When you threw a pen at Alex?"

"He deserved it! He wouldn't stop talking about how cereal is a soup."

Carlos unwraps the sandwich and holds it out expectantly. You take it with a sigh, knowing he won't leave until you eat.

"This doesn't count as a date," you warn him.

His eyes crinkle with amusement. "Sharing a sandwich in the garage while you pretend not to like me? No, this is just Tuesday."

You take a bite to avoid responding, then make an embarrassing sound of appreciation. It's your favorite – prosciutto and mozzarella from that little deli down the street.

"You remembered," you say softly.

"I remember everything about you." He says it so simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Like how you take your coffee, and which pen is your lucky pen, and how you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating really hard..."

"Carlos..."

"And how you always say my name like that when you're trying not to smile."

You throw your napkin at him. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Probably." He makes no move to leave. "But I like it here better."

The garage bustles around you, mechanics and engineers going about their work, but somehow Carlos has this way of making it feel like you're in your own little bubble.

"Twenty-four," he says suddenly.

"What?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

You should say no. You always say no. But...

"Carlos, I—"

"Before you say no," he interrupts quickly, "just... think about it? Really think about it. Because yes, maybe dating within the team is complicated. But isn't everything in F1 complicated? We manage million-dollar cars going three hundred kilometers per hour. We coordinate hundreds of people across different countries. We deal with rain and red flags and rival teams."

He leans forward, and his eyes are so earnest it almost hurts. "But we do it all because some things are worth the complexity. And this?" He gestures between you two. "This feels worth it to me."

Your heart is doing that fluttery thing again. "That was a good speech."

"I practiced it in the mirror."

You laugh despite yourself. "Of course you did."

"Is it working?"

You look at him – really look at him. At the hope in his eyes, the nervous way he's playing with his watch strap, the soft curl falling over his forehead that you've always wanted to brush back.

"If," you say slowly, "and this is a big if... if I said yes, what exactly would you have planned?"

His whole face lights up. "Well, I know this amazing little restaurant in Maranello. Very private, incredible pasta. We could talk about anything except work. I could tell you about growing up in Madrid, you could tell me about your family. Maybe afterwards we could walk through the old town, get gelato..."

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Only about a hundred times." He grins. "So..."

You take a deep breath. "If – and I mean if – I said yes... you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If it doesn't work out, we stay professional. The team comes first."

"Always," he agrees immediately. "Although it will work out."

"Oh? You're that confident?"

His smile turns softer. "I've never been more sure of anything."

And maybe it's the way he's looking at you, or maybe it's Emma's words from earlier echoing in your head, or maybe you're just tired of pretending you don't feel this too.

"Okay," you say quietly.

He blinks. "Okay?"

"Yes. To dinner. Tomorrow night."

For a moment he just stares at you, like he can't quite believe it. Then the biggest smile breaks across his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Really? You're not joking?"

"Don't make me change my mind, Sainz."

He jumps up, practically bouncing with excitement. "You won't regret this, I promise. I'm going to plan the perfect evening. It will be amazing. You're going to fall so in love with me—"

"Carlos!"

"Right, sorry, getting ahead of myself." But he's still beaming. "Tomorrow night then? Eight o'clock?"

You nod, fighting your own smile. "Eight o'clock."

He backs away, still grinning, and this time he actually does trip over a tire. You hear him apologizing to the mechanics in rapid Spanish, but he doesn't stop smiling.

Emma appears as if by magic. "Finally!" she exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to lock you two in the simulator room."

"It's just dinner," you mutter, but you can feel yourself blushing.

"Sure it is." She hands you a file with a knowing look. "Just like it was 'just coffee' when he started bringing it to you every morning, and 'just being nice' when he waited two hours at the track in Malaysia because your flight was delayed."

"Whose side are you on?"

"The side of love, obviously." She dodges your swat. "And maybe the side of the garage betting pool."

"The what?"

But she's already walking away, humming what sounds suspiciously like the Italian national anthem.

You turn back to your work, trying to focus on lap times and tire strategies, but your mind keeps drifting to tomorrow night. To dinner and walks and gelato and the way Carlos looks at you like you're his favorite victory.

Your phone buzzes with a text:

Carlos: Twenty-four was my lucky number anyway 😉

You bite your lip to hold back a smile.

You: Don't push your luck, Sainz

Carlos: Too late. Already the luckiest man in Maranello 💙

And despite all your rules and reservations, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you're pretty lucky too.

After all, some things are worth breaking the rules for.

447 notes · View notes

urmum-lovesme · 3 days ago

Note

how would toxic! rafe react to the reader being toxic and like possessive?

ohhhh I fuck with this so bad get outta here. I want them both so bad 🫦

Toxic!Rafe x Toxic!Reader ???

The music thumps through the walls, a pulsing beat that reverberates in the chest and drowns out any chance of hearing over the noise. The air inside the house is thick, clinging with the mix of weed, alcohol, and the faint undertone of sweat. People move like shadows, their laughter and slurred words blending together in a haze. Rafe is settled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm draped over the backrest, his usual spot, the place where he knows everyone comes to find him. His eyes scan the crowd and he’s already had a hit, the coke kicking in just enough to make him buzz. His hair’s messier than usual, the weight of the night already pulling him deeper into his high. People keep drifting over, asking for a little bag of weed or a hit of something stronger. He’s got it all, and the casual exchanges of a small baggie for a wad of cash spread over the night.

But his eyes flicker to the side as a girl slides into his periphery. She’s leaning against the wall close to him, twirling her hair, sending glances in his direction like she’s waiting for him to make a move. She’s not subtle. And he loves it.

The validation.

The attention.

Rafe’s eyes flick up from his drink as he feels the girl’s presence getting closer. He notices her leaning against the wall, eyeing him and he smirks as he lazily leans back against the couch, one arm sprawled along the back. He glances her way and then nods his head toward the empty spot next to him.

"Yo, come here."

He calls, his voice smooth and a little low, that effortless pull only Rafe knows how to work. The girl giggles, her lips curving with that playful glint. She saunters over to him, hips swaying as she closes the space between them. Once she’s standing right in front of him, she leans down, just enough to catch his attention.

"Hey Rafe," she says, her voice low, almost teasing, "I heard you’ve got weed...?"

Her voice drops a little, lowering just enough to signal that she’s not just making small talk. She asks, her eyes gliding over him like she’s already made up her mind.

"How much for a little?"

Rafe tilts his head, the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. He’s heard this line a thousand times, he studies her for a moment, eyes flicking to the curves of her body as she leans in just a little too close. He’s not bothered by it- hell, he kind of enjoys it.

"Depends on how much you’re looking for"

Rafe says, voice smooth and casual, leaning back slightly as he looks to her, he’s not a fool, he knows what she’s trying to do. She tilts her head and smirks, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before brushing her hand along his arm, letting her fingers trail just enough to get his attention.

"Well, I was thinking... you could, you know, maybe make me a special deal?"

She teases, her voice dripping with flirtation, but her eyes never leave his. Rafe’s lips twitch into a grin as he takes a slow sip from his drink, his eyes locking with hers as he lets the tension build between them.

"A deal, huh?"

Rafe looks down at her hand for a moment, his grin widening. "How 'bout this," he says, voice a little quieter now, but still teasing.

"If you’re willing to work a little harder for it... maybe we could work something out"

Y/N had been at the party for a few minutes now, and she really doesn't play hard to get- she plays untouchable. She walks into the room, and heads turn, it’s always the same. Some guys stare like they’ve never seen a girl before and others whisper to their friends, hyping themselves up to talk to her. A few of them have tried before, only to be met with that slow, almost mocking smile she gives right before she shuts them down.

And tonight? It’s no different. Her tiny skirt clings to her hips, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor with every step. Her top? Practically non-existent. Some guy tries to step into her path, already leaning in with some rehearsed line.

"Hey Y/-"

She doesn’t even spare him a glance. Another one, a little bolder, brushes his fingers against her wrist as she walks by. She pulls away like he doesn’t exist because in reality, none of them do.

Not to her.

Y/N doesn’t come to these parties for them. She doesn’t bat her lashes for the guys watching her like they’ve got a chance, she doesn’t dress for their attention.

She comes for him.

And that’s exactly why, when she finally spots him- posted up on the couch, drink in hand, some girl practically draped over him- her lips curl into something amused. Possessive. Because Rafe might let her stand there, might let her giggle and lean in close. He might even entertain her, just for fun.

But he doesn’t belong to her.

He belongs to Y/N.

And whether he realises it or not, she belongs to him too.

Y/N doesn’t waste any time as she moves across the room. Without a word, she walks straight up to him and sits herself down in his lap, her back arching slightly as she settles in, her legs draped over his. Rafe’s eyebrows lift, his gaze flickering with something like surprise but then amusement. Y/N drapes an arm around his shoulder, fingers lazily tracing against the back of his neck as she leans into him. The girl beside him- who had been so confident just moments ago-falters, taking a small step back.

Y/N turns her head toward her, slow and deliberate, like she’s only just now noticing her existence. She tilts her chin slightly, a smile stretching across her lips. It’s fake, and ever so clearly forced.

“Hey”

The girl’s eyes flicker to Rafe, then back to Y/N, like she’s deciding if this is worth the fight. And Y/N’s fingers tighten ever so slightly on the collar of his polo and Rafe- so thoroughly entertained- lets his hand drift up Y/N’s thigh, squeezing.

The girl doesn’t leave.

She hesitates for a second, sure- but then she squares her shoulders, tossing her hair over one side and keeping herself planted right where she is, fingers still toying with the strap of her purse. Y/N sees the way her lips curve up, the way her eyes flick between her and Rafe like she’s deciding whether to call her bluff.

Rafe notices it too.

And it fucking amuses him.

Y/N can feel the shake of his quiet chuckle beneath her fingertips as she plays his collar, the deep breath he takes as he leans further back against the couch, arms stretching across the top of it like he’s settling in to enjoy the show. His hand however, never leaves her thigh... if anything it just creeps higher and higher. The girl tilts her head slightly, that same flirtatious smile returning as she addresses Rafe again, ignoring Y/N’s presence.

“So... what about that discount?”

Y/N’s jaw tenses, nails dragging against the fabric of Rafe’s polo before she slides her hand up his neck- slow, deliberate- and grips his chin, tilting just enough to force his gaze fully onto her.

“You entertainin’ this Rafe?”

Her voice is syrupy sweet, but there’s an undeniable sharpness beneath it. Rafe smirks, tongue pressing against his cheek as he looks up at her, finding far too much enjoyment in the situation. He doesn’t answer right away, just watches as Y/N’s expression shifts, as her fingers tighten on his chin. The girl giggles, fucking giggles, shifting her weight to one side as she plays with the hem of her top, revealing the lace of her bra.

“It’s just business, babe. Don’t stress.”

Y/N lets out a humourless breath, releasing Rafe’s neck before she suddenly shifts- swinging one of her legs fully over his lap so that she’s straddling him, facing him completely. His hands instinctively slide to her ass, which is almost peeking of her tiny skirt, his fingers pressing into her bare skin but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Her attention is solely on the girl standing there, looking at her like she’s the one out of place. Y/N asks, tilting her head slightly.

“You still here?”

“I don’t see your name on him.”

The girl raises a brow. Rafe fucking grins. He loves this. Loves watching how she gets worked up over him, knowing he’s the only one who can push her like this, the only one who gets her like this. Y/N scoffs, leaning in just enough that the girl gets the message- sees the way Rafe’s hands tighten around her waist, the way he’s so obviously hers.

But she’s not done yet.

She tilts her head slightly, letting her lips graze the edge of Rafe’s jaw before trailing lower, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against the side of his neck, her lipgloss staining his skin. She lingers, letting her teeth scrape against his skin before she sucks just hard enough to leave a mark- territorial, possessive, unmistakable. Rafe exhales sharply, his grip on her tightening as his head tilts back ever so slightly, giving her more access, more control.

His fingers press into the dip of her waist, thumbs stroking over the fabric of her tiny top as he lets her work. His hand slides lower, fingertips tracing the curve of her hip before finding the thin black strap of her g-string peeking out above her skirt. With a lazy smirk, Rafe hooks a finger around it and gives it a sharp little snap against her skin leaving a barely-there sting, just enough to make her breath hitch. The girl shifts uncomfortably beside them, her arms folding over her chest, pushing her tits up as she rolls her eyes, but Y/N doesn’t care.

This isn’t for her.

When she finally pulls away, she doesn’t immediately turn her attention to the girl. No- she takes her time, dragging her nails down the front of Rafe’s shirt, admiring the way his pupils are blown, the way his jaw is locked slightly. She turns her head slightly, lips just barely brushing the shell of Rafe’s ear as she murmurs,

“Tell her”

Rafe hums, dragging his hands down the curve of her ass, squeezing once before lifting his gaze to the girl still standing there, waiting for him.

“You heard her,” he says lazily his voice deep, his attention now clearly on someone else.

“Get the fuck outta here.”

420 notes · View notes

sierrale8ne · 3 days ago

Text

something about you / juju watkins x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ i’m tryna do something explicit. you askin me what i like about you, girl how long you wanna sit in this kitchen? ’

summary a few substances and some conversation has juju realizing that no time apart is gonna stop her from wanting you. warnings sexual content, smoking, fingering from lena “in the morning” yeah yeah i’m a liar we already knew that next 🙄🙄 here’s the first post of my lil collection and my first juju fic because y’all alr know… that’s my lil shit.

The chime of the bell is what causes your attention to shift from your spot behind the counter. You’ve been working at the smoothie bar on campus for quite some time now, any chance to get more money in your pocket and your roommates off your back.

It was a slow day today, luckily for you, the wind of southern California kept majority of your peers bundled up and in their own dorms rather than the commons or in the store.

Until now.

You’re cleaning the counter top, paying attention to every crumb that lands on the floor that you’ll have to sweep— when you see her.

It was hard not to recognize her, the typical baggy jeans and graphic hoodie, her Nike dunks thudding across the floor as she walks in, and a slicked back bun, different than her everyday game bun. Anyone on campus would be able to see her and point her out, the Juju Watkins.

But you recognize her for other reasons, as the only person in the world who knew you like no one else did.

You haven’t seen Juju in a few weeks, all thanks to her efforts in bringing home a national championship. But still, even through all that, she never once made you feel left to the side. You were involved in every moment of her life— texts, calls, FaceTimes— Juju made an effort to show you that she really did like you. That she cared.

She walks towards the counter, one hand gripping her wallet and the other tucked into her pocket.

“What’s up, baby?” She smiles, and it makes you smile at how her eyes scrunch together. Juju’s perfume travels over the expanse of the counter and to your nose, smelling just as good as you remember she did.

“What are you doing here, Ju?” You ask. It takes everything in your body to hide the blush growing on your face. By second nature, you start ringing her up for her smoothie— mango and peach with extra vanilla protein.

She shrugs, digging in her wallet for her card. “We ain’t linked up in a minute. I gotta pay my girl a visit, y’know?”

You nod, watching the way the girl never takes her eyes off you, even as she pays for her smoothie. Her card lazily held in the tips of her fingers. “Your girl?”

“Stop playing.” Juju shakes her head.

“Judea. You just tipped me 20 for a six dollar drink.” You groan. She was never shy to make a show of how much she liked you, even if you made it clear that money wasn’t the way to do that. It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, though.

The only lights left in the store are the ones low ones over the tables and the white light over the blenders, dim, but just enough for you to see the red haze over her eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you work faster so we can get outta here. I just wanna see you tonight.” Juju explains.

“I’m closing tonight, love.”

“Okay? When you finish?” She questions. You ignore her briefly, enough to turn your back and start on the athlete’s smoothie.

It gave Juju the opportunity to run her eyes over you. You wear black leggings that hug the curve of your ass perfectly. Your uniform shirt is cropped just enough to give her a view of your lower back. The bright lime green of your apron is nearly blinding, but also looks beautiful on your skin. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you.

“I get off in 30!” You yell over the sound of the blender, looking over your shoulder to see that nothing you said has registered in her head. “Ju?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You said what, mama?” Juju blots her lips together, glossy and slightly rosy. They look plump and a part of you wants to jump over the counter and kiss them until all the breath in your lungs gives out.

Her eyes meet yours, and just by the look in them you know she’s not lying about wanting to see you. It’s something, almost a sparkle, that you haven’t seen in so long. She wants you.

“I get off in 30.” You repeat, handing the girl her drink.

“I’ll wait right here then.”

You cradle Deuce in your arms, the dog being quite happy to see you in Juju’s apartment again. Her hoodie is long gone, tossed somewhere on the couch which leaves her in a cropped shirt that puts her abs on display.

The seat of her kitchen counter gives her only a few inches over you as you both talk. That seemed to be what you guys did often, picking each other’s brains apart for any and everything.

“How’s school goin’?” Juju asks in between puffs of smoke. The joint rests lazily in her fingers, teasing her bottom lip. Her eyes are already low, raking over you like you were candy. And the slope of her lashes was not helping you keep your cool.

That’s how it always seemed to be with Juju, she could do nothing— but also doo too much— and you still be completely enamored with her.

“It’s alright. Stressful, but s’nothin’ I can’t handle.” You nod, darting your eyes to the joint she passes off to you. “And you? Though I doubt you’re even focused with all this basketball shit.”

You take a puff, the drug swirling through your lungs and messing with your head before you breathe it out. The slight haze traveling through the yellow light of the kitchen.

“What? I’m focused. Sometimes.” She hums and you let out a laugh.

For as long as you’ve known the athlete she’d claim that school comes first, and then as the season continues it becomes pushed to the back burner. She had one goal— or really two— win a natty, and get the girl. You.

“Just sometimes?”

“Why else do you think I play worse when I see you? You’re the distraction, mama.” Blushed. You’re blushed fucking red. And Juju can’t help but smirk at it, she finds you adorable.

Deuce fights in your arms, and you make quick work of setting him on the floor. “Can I ask you something?” You question her, passing over the joint back.

“Of course.”

Your tongue tingles at the thought of the words about to come out of your mouth. You and Juju liked each other, that was clear— but what wasn’t was why things were still kept under wraps. Why she never asked you out officially and honestly why you didn’t do the same.

“What do you like about me, Ju? ‘Cause you keep sayin’ you do, but we’re not moving anywhere.” You trail off, feeling a little small under all six feet and two inches of her.

She ashes the joint, crossing her arms over her chest before making her way over to you. The tension is thick, almost too thick to even focus on anything other than the warmth that spreads through your body.

“How long do you wanna sit here, baby? I could talk about you for hours. It’s just… something about you, got me hooked from the minute I met you.” She explains. You look at how she plays with her fingers, almost like she was nervous. But you know her, Juju doesn’t get nervous. Especially with you.

“I-I dunno, I just feel like—”

“You don’t think I want you?” She wonders. Juju trails closer, hands pressing to the counter on each side of your thighs. “‘Cause I do. I could show you?”

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it. The words repeat in your head over and over again. But she’s standing here, smelling like lavender and something else that’s distinctly Juju Watkins. Her eyes are serious, telling you that everything she’s said isn’t a lie. And then you’re thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve even kissed her, weeks, maybe even a full month.

You remember it like it was tattooed in your brain. Just before Valentine’s day. She came to your job with flowers, much to the dismay of your coworkers. You two drove around for hours, Brent Faiyaz and Frank Ocean filling the car until you stopped at the beach. She kissed you with a purpose, so much so that the air left your lungs and all other thoughts left your brain.

You miss it.

“Show me, Ju.” You murmur, widening the gap between your legs for her to stand there.

Juju doesn’t even waste time. She grips your thigh with one hand, snaking her other into the crook of your neck and pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut and her lips meet yours. Soft and even sweeter than you remembered.

Her lips glide against your own— slow— like she was savoring the moment. And she was, the tournament was approaching and it wasn’t clear the next time she’d be able to have you like this.

She breaks the kiss and you groan in disapproval, chasing after those plump lips before you can even think not to.

“That’s good enough? Or—”

“More.” You sigh, tugging her back to you by her jeans. “I want you, and I want more.” Juju presses her knee closer to your cunt as the kiss grows hungrier. Her mouth opens further, tongue darting out to slide against your own tongue. Like she was begging for more, begging for entry with a small whine. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy with need.

Juju digs her hands into the band of your leggings, snapping the elastic onto your hip. “Can I?” She mumbles against you.

It’s your turn to break the kiss, licking the saliva string between you both. Her eyes stare into your soul, deep and full of longing. She’s yearning for you, you see it how she grips your clothes, how her legs just slightly buckle.

“Yes. Please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

The athlete leans into your neck, sniffing the fruity scent that lingers on you from work. Her lips find your sweet spot as she kisses along your skin. “Smell so good, baby. Taste even better.” She smiles against you.

“Ju, I need—” Your plea is cut off by the feel of her fingers inside your pants. She trails them down to your clothed cunt. Copping a feel of your clit through your panties.

“I know. You’re soaked. Just need me so fucking bad, yeah?” Her voice rings in your ear while her middle finger applied the kind of pressure that made your legs shake. You gush almost instantly, more of your slick drenching the fabric.

You nod fast—anything to get her to speed up—but you mean it. “Need you so bad, pretty girl.” Your hand holds the back of her neck, fingers toying with the flyaways of hair that reside there. “Please?”

“I don’t know, baby. I wanna make you my girl first.” She teases. Her fingers don’t stop, still running up and down your covered slit.

“Ask me.” You pant. Your hips buck up in need, free hand clutching the hem of her shirt.

Juju’s face comes back to view, looking down at you with a smirk she can’t hide, not in the slightest. “Y’sure? Here? Like thi—”

“Fucking ask me, Ju.” You stutter, and she doesn’t miss it.

She can’t miss it. How your mouth hangs open and your pants huff into her ears. You’re dying for it, for more. For anything she can give you.

“Will you be my girlfriend, beautiful? Please?” She smiled. Her fingers hook into your panties, tugging them to the side. Enough for the air to make you shiver, but not enough for her to touch you fully. She was leaving you on edge.

“You make your girlfriend feel good?” “You joke.

“Y’know I will, mama.”

“Then yes. Yes, baby, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Juju’s fingertips brush over your clit. Once, twice— and then the third time, she’s slipping her middle finger inside your pussy. Biting her lip as she does so.

“Take your shirt off.” She orders. Her voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, at least when she was with you. So you listen. Dragging your hands off her body and to your work shirt. It hits the floor with a thud that is ultimately drowned out by the sound of your moan.

She’s good. Better than you even imagined. Her finger is long, brushing along your g-spot with nearly every stroke. And when she curls them, God, it makes your eyes water.

“You feel so good.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like your life depends on it. Juju relishes in the sounds you give her, not even the moans but your cunt. It’s loud, ringing in her ears as she slips another finger inside.

“Yeah? Who’s makin’ you feel this good, mama.” She asks, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as she speeds up. “Y-you. You, baby. Only you, Ju.” You babble.

“Remember when you used to say you ain’t want me?” She starts, twisting her fingers in and out until your panties are all sloppy and you’re soaking your leggings. “Look at you now, legs shaking. Pussy just screamin’ for me.”

“Juju! Oh, fuck.” You grunt, meeting her halfway with each push of her fingers. Her hand trails up to your chest, squeezing your breast with a haste that makes you want to give her any and everything that she pleases. “I can’t—”

“Can’t take it? Really? ‘Cause I know you’re not a quitter. Ain’t nothing you can’t handle, right?” She hums, pressing her plump lips to your cheek.

You can smell the weed off her breath, the mango of her smoothie. And it’s all overstimulating.

Juju curls her fingers, and she knows she’s hit your spot when you nearly fly into her hold, arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

Your breath hits her ear, alongside the pleas of her name. “I’m so close.” You all but cry.

“Imma make you cum?” The question is rhetorical, she knows the answer. The way your body says all the words you don’t. “Yeahhhh, gonna make it feel good for you, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck, don’t stop! Don’t, Ju.” Your moans nearly make the athlete go blind with arousal. Soaking through her own underwear and they thought of having you finish here. On her kitchen counter.

“Lemme feel it. Cum, mama.”

It takes one more push of her fingers to make you nearly fall off the counter. Your legs tremble and your hands clutch Juju’s shoulders like a fucking life line. She works you through it, leaving kisses along your earlobe until she finally drags her coated fingers out of you.

They travel to her mouth, where she makes a show of licking them clean of you. Your eyes make sure they’re fully open to get the view, you’d rather die than miss it.

“Goddamn you taste good.” Juju groans, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just something about me, I guess.”

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @ryywyd @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#juju watkins #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins smut #usc wbb #wlw smut #lesbian #my fic #$$$4u collection

385 notes · View notes

pigfartsviatardis · 3 days ago

Text

I do definitely wish they’d given just a tiny bit more time to the rajan/kala/wolfgang thing because I ended up just very confused all through the finale movie as to what rajan knew and where they were all at??? I LOVE that they ended up poly and I was like UMMMMM THEY GOTS CHEMISTRY as soon as rajan and Wolfgang met, but still… confusing the way it was done.

Honestly I think the best thing they could have done there was to add something like this to the exchange between rajan and Wolfgang at the French villa before kala shows up:

Wolfgang: not many men would have done what you did for me.

Rajan: of course.

Wolfgang: I mean, knowing how I feel about your wife… really, you’re being very cool about it all.

Rajan: wait a minute… you and kala…?

Wolfgang: … I thought you said she told you everything?

Rajan: I thought she had. Wait, are all eight of you… involved?

Wolfgang: that depends on how you look at it. But between Kala and me… it’s special. I’m sorry, it should have been Kala who told you.

Rajan: true. But I’m glad to know. And I cannot say I’m surprised. The way she was talking about you, and fearing for you when you were imprisoned… it’s obvious that she loves you.

Wolfgang: she loves you, too. That’s why she married you, you know.

Rajan: I want to believe that. You really think so?

Wolfgang: I know Kala better than she knows herself. I know her heart. Both of us have a place there.

And then rajan would have been in the know the whole time and when we later saw Kala and Wolfgang cosying up and kissing in front of him, it would have made more sense to assume that Kala and rajan had an off screen chat about it and he’s decided he’s cool with it.

Zero notes on hernando/lito/dani though I LOVE them sm 🥰

Actually I love the two throuples in Sense8 because one is Kala in love with her husband Rajan but also kinda cheating on him emotionally (and then sexually) with her boyfriend Wolfgang that she's mentally linked with and then when Rajan finally meets his wife's boyfriend his reaction is

And then Lito,Hernando and Dani doing this

#sense8 #I just finished my rewatch and I’m full of feelings about this insane beautiful bizarre show #Kala sense8 #Wolfgang sense8 #rajan sense8 #Wolfgang x kala x rajan

6K notes · View notes

hyuckiefluff · 2 days ago

Text

Flipped Pt. 2 | Mark Lee

pairing: gryffindor!mark lee x slytherin!fem.reader genre: smut summary: the first time you met mark lee, you flipped his world upside down— literally. seven years later and after countless attempts to avoid you, you're still driving him insane. except now, it’s for an entirely different reason. wc: 6.3k+ cw: explicit content, cursing, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, semi-public sexual acts, oral (fem receiving) a/n: hi!! this is a continuation to my hogwarts au, so please read part one before checking this out <3 I originally wasn't even planning on adding any smut to this fic, and I think it works well without it, but still, a little smut is always a good bonus so here it is! enjoy!

By the time your seventh year rolled around, you and Mark felt like two halves of the same whole. You spent nearly every possible hour together and most of it was sweet and wholesome. He’d sit with you in the greenhouse while you tended to your plants, pretending to be helpful but mostly just watching you with this lovesick look on his face. Or sitting beside you in the library when you worked on assignments, though he hardly ever got any studying done himself. Or at the Quidditch games, where he’d celebrate his wins by flying over the stands and swooping down to kiss you.

But there were also the other moments. The ones where you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Most of your prefect shifts ended in heated makeout sessions behind the statue of the one eyed witch on the third floor. Or tucked away in the Astronomy Tower when everyone else was asleep. Or in the dark staircase leading to the dungeons, pressed against the cold stone wall with his hands roaming your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair. You two found a way to use any place that offered even a little privacy.

And it was getting harder and harder to stop once you started.

You could feel the way his kisses were getting hungrier. Like that time when his hands slid under your robes during Charms class. Or the time in the greenhouse when he kissed you so deeply his knee had ended up between your legs, and you’d gasped, clutching at his robes before hastily pulling away.

And last time things almost went too far.

You’d been tucked in a hidden alcove near the Transfiguration classroom, his back against the stone wall, your body pressed firmly against his as his mouth moved feverishly against yours. His hand had slipped beneath your robes, skimming up your thigh, and before you even realized it, he was fumbling with the buttons of your uniform. His breath was heavy, and you could feel how badly he wanted you, his hands trembling slightly as he tugged at your clothes.

“Wait—” you gasped, grabbing his wrist.

Mark froze immediately, his face paling like he’d done something horribly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” he pulled his hands back “I wasn’t trying to push you or—”

“No, it’s not—” you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat still simmering in your stomach. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I do. It’s just…”

Mark watched you carefully, still looking wrecked with guilt. “…Just what?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t… I don’t have any experience with this. I’ve never…I mean, I’ve kissed people before but not like… that. Or… y-you know.”

It took Mark a moment to process what you were saying. Then his face softened immediately, his brows knitting with so much tenderness it almost made you cry.

“Hey, that’s okay” he breathed, pulling you closer again but gentler this time. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You felt your face burn. “I don’t know… I guess I was embarrassed. I thought you’d expect me to…”

“I don’t,” Mark cut you off gently, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I swear. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just… I get carried away sometimes because I really, really like you. But you can tell me to stop anytime, okay?”

“Really?”

“Really,” he promised. Then he nudged your nose with his, grinning cheekily. “Besides… I think it’s kinda cute you’ve never done any of that before.”

You swatted his arm, groaning. “Oh my god, Mark.”

He just laughed, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Later that night, you were curled up in the common room with Karina when the question came bursting out of you like word vomit.

“How does sex feel like?”

Karina choked on her pumpkin juice, coughing violently as her eyes practically popped out of her skull.

“I’m sorry— what?” she spluttered, whipping her head toward you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Like… is it painful at first?” you pressed on, your face heating up. “I imagine it is. It probably depends on the… y’know… size. I mean, I read about it in a Muggle book back home but it was mostly about conception, not really the experience itself, so I—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it.” Karina held up a hand, looking half-horrified and half-amused. “Where is this coming from… Since when are you so curious about sex?”

“Rina, I’m seventeen.... almost eighteen. It’s perfectly normal for me to start being curious about these things.”

“Oh, so it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you spend every free period snogging the Gryffindor Seeker?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, glancing around the room.

“What?” Karina giggled. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know. I think half the school’s caught you guys in the corridors by now”

You groaned loudly, covering your burning face with your hands. “Forget I ever asked.”

“Oh no, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and then back out—”

Before you could beg her to drop it, Haechan strolled into the common room in his Quidditch uniform, hair damp with sweat, looking like he’d just finished practice. His eyes immediately landed on the two of you and of course, he caught the tail end of Karina’s cackling.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, flopping onto the couch next to you.

Karina turned to him, grinning like the devil. “Oh, nothing. Our sweet, innocent little Y/N here just wants to know what sex feels like.”

“Karina!” you shrieked, whipping around to glare at her as she howled with laughter.

Haechan’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He turned to you, scandalized. “You—? You wanna know about... holy shit…”

“Oh my God, stop,” you groaned.

Haechan’s face split into a wicked grin. “Ohhh, I’m so telling him you’re asking about this—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not? I think he’d love to know that his girlfriend’s getting all hot and bothered thinking about—”

“Haechan!”

“I’m kidding!” he laughed, hands raised in surrender. “But seriously. What exactly do you wanna know, huh? Like… the logistics of it? Or do you just wanna know if Mark’s packing—”

You lunged at him with the pillow. “I swear...”

“Alright, alright!” he howled, practically collapsing onto the floor in laughter as you rained down pillow smacks. “I’m just saying, if you want details, I’m right here—”

“Absolutely not.”

Haechan, despite his teasing and borderline inappropriate comments, was surprisingly chill about Mark and you. You had made it clear months ago that you had no romantic feelings for him. He’d taken it well, saying he saw it coming, and from that moment on, he treated you just like he would anyone else. He even became close friends with Mark, realizing he had more things in common with the seeker than he initially thought.

Karina, still crying from laughter, gasped, “Oh my God, you should ask Mark yourself. See how he reacts.”

You froze, mortified. “Are you insane? I’m not asking Mark what sex feels like!”

“Why not?” Haechan snickered, finally pulling himself back onto the couch. “It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it already. Honestly, I’m shocked you two haven’t done it yet, considering how often we catch you practically shagging in the corridors.”

“We do not!”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “You two make the entire school feel single.”

You groaned, absolutely done with this conversation. “I hate both of you.”

“But seriously. If you’re curious, just… talk to him about it. He’ll probably combust on the spot, but he’ll definitely be honest with you.” Karina suggested.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar.

…Yeah. Like that conversation wouldn’t end with you both tearing each other’s clothes off.

Mark was in the Gryffindor locker room, gulping down water after finishing practice, when Peeves suddenly popped up right in front of him with a loud "Boo!"

He flinched, nearly choking on his water and dropping the bottle to the floor.

“Peeves, what the hell!” Mark coughed, clutching his chest as the poltergeist erupted into a fit of maniacal laughter, floating circles around him.

“What do you want?” Mark huffed, yanking off his gloves. He was the last one in the locker room since he stayed behind to practice a little longer for the upcoming match.

“Ooh, Peeves has a message for you! A juicy little message about your pretty girl!” Peeves sing-songed, grinning mischievously.

Mark froze mid-motion. “Y/N? What about her?”

“She’s in the prefect’s bathroom right now, calling out for you!” Peeves giggled.

Mark furrowed his brows, confused. “Why would she be looking for me there? I’m not a prefect, I can’t even go in there.”

Peeves simply shrugged dramatically, floating upside down. “Peeves is just telling you what Peeves saw! Go, don’t go, who cares! But your pretty girl seemed awfully eager to see you…” he teased before disappearing with a loud pop.

Mark stood there for a second, his heart suddenly hammering. Were you really asking for him in the prefect’s bathroom? That made no sense. But if Peeves was telling the truth…

“Shit,” Mark muttered, quickly tossing his gloves aside and hurrying out of the locker room.

He knew Peeves wasn’t exactly known for being helpful, but what if this time he was actually being serious? Mark’s gut twisted at the thought of you upset or needing him for something.

When he reached the entrance to the prefect bathroom, he hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to be here— it was strictly for prefects and Quidditch captains— but he couldn't just walk away if you were inside asking for him. With a deep breath, he gripped the handle and pushed… but the door didn’t budge.

Mark cursed under his breath. Of course, there was a password.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if you’d ever mentioned it. But you’d never told him the password. Why would you? He wasn’t a prefect, so he had no business knowing it.

“Think, think, think,” Mark muttered to himself, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure no one was around to catch him. Then he remembered that Jaehyun, the Gryffindor team captain, also had access to the bathroom. Mark recalled how he had once bragged about how nice it was, especially with the giant bath and fancy soaps. He’d also, at some point, mentioned the password in passing. What was it again? Pine something…?

“Pinewood?” Mark tried hesitantly, his wand out.

Nothing.

He groaned and ran a hand through his damp hair, his nerves bubbling up again. Peeves had said you were in there looking for him. What if you were hurt or crying, and he was just standing out here like an idiot?

“Pineapple? No, that’s stupid. Pine scent?” Mark paced in front of the door, feeling his frustration rise. He was about to give up when it finally hit him.

“Pine Fresh,” Mark said, his wand raised with more confidence this time.

A soft click echoed from the door, and Mark felt it give under his touch. His heart thudded in his chest as he pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was warm and steamy, the faint smell of soap and fresh water filling the air. Massive white marble walls surrounded a pool-sized bathtub filled with shimmering water.

“Y/N?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly.

Silence.

Mark’s brows furrowed. His stomach sank. The room looked empty like you’d never been here at all. His gut twisted as he realized Peeves’d probably just duped him. That little poltergeist lived for messing with students, and Mark had fallen for it like an idiot. He was about to turn and leave when—

“Mark?”

His head snapped around, his heart leaping to his throat.

You were there.

You were sitting against one of the walls, your legs curled up to your chest, looking small and anxious. Your face was a little flushed, though Mark wasn’t sure if it was from the steam in the room or something else. The second you locked eyes with him, relief flooded your features.

“Oh my god, you are here,” you breathed. You scrambled to stand, your socks slipping slightly on the wet tiles as you rushed toward him.

“Wait, wha... what’s going on? Are you okay?” Mark asked quickly, meeting you halfway. His hands instinctively went to your arms, his concern spiking when he realized how clammy your skin felt. “Why did Peeves say you were asking for me?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously. Mark watched as your gaze darted around the room like you were trying to muster up the courage to speak.

“I…” You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t actually ask for you. I mean... not out loud. I just- I was in here thinking and I really, really wanted you here. And then Peeves showed up and I think he just… I don’t know, sensed it or something and—”

Mark’s stomach did a little flip. You were thinking about him so intensely that Peeves picked up on it?

“Wait, wait.... slow down,” Mark said gently, his thumbs rubbing circles on your arms. “Why did you want me here? What’s wrong?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, you almost looked embarrassed. “I… I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t know how to say it and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Mark interrupted softly, his hand tilting your chin to look at him. “It’s okay. I’m here"

You took a shaky breath, and then “I want to do it.”

Mark blinked. “…Do what?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you averted your gaze, suddenly looking incredibly nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me,” he urged softly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering back up to his wide, shiny, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place. But it stole the breath straight out of his lungs. Suddenly, you rose onto your tiptoes and kissed him.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses. It was deep and desperate, your fingers curling into the fabric of his Quidditch robes tightly. Mark instantly kissed you back, his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you there. But just as his head started to spin from how good it felt, you broke away and before he could even ask what was going on, you blurted it out.

“I want to have sex with you, Mark.”

He felt his entire body stiffen as his eyes snapped open, sure he had misheard you or that you were joking, or that Peeves had somehow cursed his ears. But the look on your face was anything but playful.

You were serious.

“W-what?” Mark croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Your face flushed, but you didn’t back down. You held his wide-eyed gaze, your hands now clenching into fists at your sides. “I… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And I know we’ve never really talked about it or anything, but I just—” You swallowed hard. “I want you. I really want you.”

Mark’s brain was malfunctioning. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again like a complete idiot. “You mean like… like now?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high.

“I mean if you want to,” you rushed out. “We don’t have to. I just… I don’t know. I thought about it and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and… and I didn’t know how to bring it up so I just—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark interrupted, his hands shooting up like he was trying to slow down time itself. His pulse was roaring in his ears. “You seriously, like, actually want to…?”

“Have sex with you?” you finished bluntly, your voice small but certain. “Yes.”

Mark swore he nearly passed out.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, running a hand down his face. “Are you…I mean, not that I don’t want to, but are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, your voice shaking a little. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, Mark. I just… I think about you all the time. And not just like—” You gestured wildly, your face burning. “not just like normal thinking about you. I mean like thinking about you. Like in ways that make me—”

Mark made a strangled noise in his throat. “Holy fuck.”

You groaned, covering your face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, this is so humiliating”

“No, no! It’s not! It’s hot,” Mark blurted without thinking. “I mean… it’s not embarrassing. Like at all. I’m just... wow.” He paced back a step like he was trying to physically process this information. “You’ve been thinking about it?”

“Yes,” you practically cried. “For months.”

Mark clutched his chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“So you… you’d want to?” you asked quietly, watching him carefully.

Mark let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-disbelieving wheeze. “Angel, if I knew you’ve been wanting this for months we would’ve done it a million times by now.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mark choked. His face was practically glowing red now. “I’ve been... I’ve wanted you like that since forever. I just didn’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable or— oh my god.” His hands flew to his hair like he was about to rip it out. “You actually want to?”

“Yes, Mark!” you laughed, still flushed. “I literally just said that.”

“And you mean like right now?”

You hesitated for half a second, then took a deep, shaky breath. “If you want to.”

Mark stared at you. Then his gaze dropped to your lips, and then lower, and then—

“Holy shit.”

And then he was kissing you again. Harder, more desperate, like the floodgates had finally burst open and he couldn’t get enough. His hands found your waist, gripping you tight as he walked you backward until the small of your back hit the marble edge of the enormous bathtub. You gasped into his mouth, and Mark swallowed the sound like he was starved for it.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he groaned between kisses. His fingers splayed against your waist, digging in like he was trying to anchor himself. “Like, stupid thoughts.... Constantly. Every time we’re alone together I just—”

“Me too,” you panted, tugging his sweater up slightly so you could touch his skin. “Every time you so much as look at me, I just... god, Mark.”

“Fuck,” Mark cursed, his teeth catching your bottom lip as he kissed you even deeper. “You’re gonna kill me.”

And Merlin help him—he was ready to let you.

Mark yanked your robes off in one swift motion, his touch eager but careful, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Your vest followed just as quickly, and when his fingers made quick work of the buttons on your shirt, you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. He was so quick like he knew what he was doing, and for a fleeting, horrible moment, you wondered how many times he’d done this before.

...Had he done it with Mia?

Your stomach dropped and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thought away. Not now. You were not about to ruin this for yourself by thinking about that. Not when Mark was kissing you like his life depended on it, not when his hands were brushing over your skin like he needed to touch you.

And Merlin, his mouth felt so good. Soft and warm, his tongue curling against yours as his hands ghosted over your waist. Your shirt was completely open now, hanging loosely off your shoulders, and you barely had a second to feel self-conscious before Mark was already tugging it off.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice strained. “You’re so—” His words trailed off into a low exhale as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze devouring every inch of exposed skin.

Heat rushed to your face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Mark asked, his voice rough.

“Like you’ve never seen a girl in a bra before.” You tried to sound playful, but your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands finding your waist. “I haven’t. Not like this. Not you.”

Oh.

Your stomach flipped violently.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it because you were already tugging at his uniform, desperate to get him equally undressed. His Quidditch robes were a nightmare to get off, heavy and tangled around his feet, and you couldn’t help but giggle when he nearly tripped trying to kick them off.

“Sorry— sorry, fuck,” Mark laughed breathlessly, finally ripping the damn thing off and tossing it aside. His sweater followed, and then you were tugging at his tie, trying to loosen it enough to get it over his head.

“Why is your uniform so complicated?” you grumbled, your hands fumbling.

“Tell me about it,” Mark huffed, yanking the tie off himself and tossing it somewhere behind him. You barely had a second to catch your breath before his hands were on your waist again, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

And oh my god.

Your mouth ran dry. His skin was burning hot, still slightly damp from Quidditch practice, and his lean frame was ridiculous. The toned muscles of his stomach, the sharp lines of his collarbones, the veins running down his forearms. You couldn’t stop staring.

“Holy shit,” you breathed without thinking.

Mark blinked. “…What?”

“You’re, like… really fit,” you admitted, your face heating up.

Mark stared at you for half a second, and then he laughed a nervous, slightly disbelieving sound. “What? No, I’m not—”

“Mark,” you cut him off, your eyes still glued to his chest. “Yes, you are. Do you even realize how many girls at Hogwarts talk about you?”

He looked scandalized. “What?”

You laughed, your hands running over his sides just to feel him. “I’m serious ‘Hot Seeker Mark Lee.’”

Mark actually choked. “Stop— what the fuck”

“You think I’m joking?” you teased, loving how red his face was getting. “Girls love you.”

Mark groaned, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder. “Oh my god, stop. I’m literally trying to hold back right now and you’re—”

“Hold back?” you laughed breathlessly. “Why?”

He lifted his head, and the look on his face was almost pained. His gaze dropped to your chest, to the lacy black bra you hadn’t exactly planned for him to see, and then back to your face. “Because if I don’t, I’m gonna, like—” He swallowed hard. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Heat flared in your stomach.

“Then lose it,” you whispered against his lips.

The second the words left your mouth he crashed his lips back to yours, messier this time. His hands gripped your waist and he pushed you even closer. Your legs instantly parted to make room for him, and he stepped between them, pressing his erection against your core.

“Mark,” you gasped, your brain short-circuiting. “Your pants—”

“Oh, right” Mark breathed, realizing he was still half-dressed. His hands fumbled with his belt, but his fingers were clumsy from how badly he was shaking. “Fuck, can you—?”

“Yeah, I got it,” you said quickly, reaching down to unbuckle it yourself. Your hands brushed against the prominent bulge in his pants, and Mark whimpered.

You froze. “Did you just...?”

“Don’t,” Mark groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder again. “I’m barely hanging on right now, please don’t.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re so cute.”

“Agh, stop laughing” Mark whined, his face burning.

“Sorry, sorry,” you giggled, finally managing to unfasten his belt and push his pants down his legs. They pooled around his ankles, and Mark practically kicked them off in desperation. Now you were both down to your underwear, and the sight of the outline of his arousal straining against his boxers made your mouth water.

And apparently, Mark was having the same reaction because his eyes were glued to you. His chest heaved, his jaw slack, his gaze devouring every inch of bare skin like he couldn’t believe it was in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your smiled shyly. “You think so?”

“Do I think so?” He exhaled sharply, his hands skimming over your bare thighs. “Angel, I’ve literally had dreams about you. Fantasies. Every time I see you in those stupid little skirts—” He broke off, his hands gripping your waist tighter and pushing you impossibly closer.

Mark’s gaze snapped to yours, and you swore his pupils somehow dilated even more.

“Can I touch you?” you both blurted at the same time, and then immediately burst into breathless laughter.

“Jesus—” Mark groaned, his head dropping as he laughed. “We’re such losers.”

“Losers who are about to have sex,” you reminded him, grinning.

Mark laughed harder, but his amusement quickly dissolved into something primal when his hands slid up your thighs again, fingertips skimming dangerously high.

“…Please,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s hands were shaking slightly as he tugged at your panties. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him start to pull them down, and for a moment, you almost closed your legs instinctively, but his gaze was full of a hunger and a kind of desperate focus that made you feel weak in the knees.

He paused for a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise, pretty girl,” he whispered, the words low and heavy.

You felt your pulse quicken at his words, the rush of heat between your thighs making everything feel too much, but all you could do was nod. You had no idea what you were doing, but the need to have him all over you was enough to make you forget any uncertainty.

With one last look to make sure you were okay with this, he dropped to his knees and dove between your thighs. You gasped, your legs trembling as his tongue licked a long, clean stripe up your already wet core. It felt too good, too overwhelming, and your hands scrambled to grip at his hair as his mouth moved over you, sucking on your clit with a fervor that made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my God, Mark,” you moaned, your body involuntarily trying to press closer to him. Hehummed against you, his hands caressing your thighs.

His mouth wasn’t slowing, even when your thighs tried to squeeze around him. Every flick of his tongue made you feel like you were floating and falling all at once. You couldn’t help the moans that kept escaping you, the tightness in your stomach that was building up with each second.

Your breathing was erratic, and your body was trembling from the pleasure, all you could think about was how badly you needed him—how badly you needed to feel more of him.

“Mark… please,” you whimpered, but you didn’t need to say anything more. He knew exactly what you wanted.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as his tongue continued its delicious work. You were already so close, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each second.

The pleasure built slowly at first, a steady, insistent warmth curling in the pit of your stomach. It coiled tighter and tighter with every flick of Mark’s tongue, every soft hum that vibrated against you. Your fingers clutched at his hair, unsure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

It was too much, too intense, and yet you couldn’t stop chasing it. The sensation crackled through you like static, lighting up every nerve in your body, making your breaths come in short, desperate gasps.

Then—something inside you snapped.

Your body tensed, your legs trembling as a strangled moan tore from your lips. You had never felt anything like this before—like you were shattering and unraveling all at once, floating somewhere between pleasure and something dangerously close to madness.

Mark didn’t stop. He kept his mouth on you and his hands firm on your thighs while you trembled through the aftershocks. Your body twitched, hypersensitive. He only pulled back when you gasped out his name in a broken plea. His lips were glistening, his eyes blown wide with awe and the sight was almost sinful.

You pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groaned into your mouth, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. It wasn’t until you felt him—hot, heavy, bare against you—that you realized at some point his boxers had come off too.

The realization made your breath hitch, and when you pulled back slightly to look down, your stomach clenched.

Oh.

You’d never seen him naked like this before. You’d imagined it, sure, but now that he was here completely bare in front of you, flushed from head to toe, his cock hard and pressing against your slick folds; you felt a different kind of heat spread through you. He was beautiful. And big. Your throat went dry, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

Mark must have noticed your sudden hesitation because he stilled, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, his lips swollen, but there was something tender in the way he was looking at you—patient, waiting.

“I just…” You exhaled a shaky breath, fingers drifting tentatively down his torso, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “You’re… um.” You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks.

Mark let out a breathless laugh, his hands smoothing over your waist. “Yeah?” His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “What about me?”

You swallowed again, your eyes flickering back down. “You’re just… bigger than I thought.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and as soon as you realized what you’d said, you squeezed your eyes shut in mortification.

Mark choked out a laugh, his head dropping against your shoulder. “Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands flexing on your hips. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Ugh... sorry” You buried your face in his neck, burning from the inside out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

Mark pulled back slightly, tipping your chin up so you’d look at him again. His expression had softened, though his eyes still burned with desire. “You’re sure you still want this?” he asked, thumb brushing your cheek.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself take in the sight of him again—his flushed skin, the way he was holding himself back, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You nodded, heart pounding. “I want you, Mark.”

That was all it took.

Mark groaned, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands guided your hips, and you felt him rut against you, his cock sliding against your slick folds. The contact alone made you gasp into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, his voice breaking as he fought to keep himself together. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you, and he swallowed it like he was starving for more of you.

Your head was spinning and your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but the ache for all of him only grew more unbearable.

“Please, Mark… I need you,” you begged, your fingers gripping his biceps.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut trying to control himself, keeping in mind that you’d never done this before and he needed to be careful. But the way you were pleading for him made it nearly impossible.

“Shit—okay, okay, angel,” he promised, his voice cracking under the weight of his need. His hand slid between you, gripping himself at the base, and you gasped when you felt the hot, blunt tip press right against your entrance.

His breath caught. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded quickly, your chest heaving. “I will… just—please—”

And then he pushed in, slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you might break. The stretch burned, a sharp sting that made your breath hitch and your nails dig into his shoulders, but you didn’t ask him to stop. Mark’s face contorted, his brows furrowed like he was in pain just trying to hold himself back.

“Fuck…you’re so tight,” he gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pushed in a little more. Your walls clenched around him involuntarily, and his whole body shuddered. “God, Y/N—”

“You’re so big, Mark,” you whimpered, your thighs shaking as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch.

“Angel, you’re doing so good,” Mark gritted out, his voice strained as he stilled inside you, trying to give you time to adjust. His fingers were digging into your waist like he was using all his strength to not start pounding into you. “Just tell me when, okay? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your body slowly accommodating him. The sting soon melted into a dull ache, and the pleasure started creeping in. You rolled your hips experimentally, and the friction made you both groan.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, your voice shaky but sure. “You can move.”

Mark let out the most wrecked sound you’d ever heard and then he did. He pulled out just a little before sinking back in, the drag of his thick length against your walls making you throw your head back against the tile.

“Holy fuck,” Mark rasped, his grip on your ass tightening as he thrust into you again, a little deeper this time. “You feel so…so fucking good”

The pace he started was slow but there was no mistaking the sheer desperation in his touch. And you were losing your mind. Every stroke made you gasp, the head of his cock brushing places you didn’t even know could feel that good, and the tension in your core was already building again.

“Mark, faster...please,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. The ache had turned into pure bliss now, and you needed more of him.

“Fuck…yeah, okay—” Mark practically growled, and his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming rougher. His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

Your body jerked in reaction, your walls clenching down around him so tight it made his hips stutter.

“Shit… do that again, baby. Please—” Mark begged, his voice cracking as he pounded into you harder. The sound of skin slapping filled the steamy bathroom, mixed with the high-pitched whines leaving your throat and the desperate grunts coming from Mark.

Your nails raked down his back and he hissed. “Mark… I’m—oh my god—I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, angel,” Mark growled, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his thrusts losing rhythm. “Please—fuck—I need to feel you cum on my cock.”

And that was it. Your body tensed as the coil in your stomach snapped again. You sobbed his name, your walls clenching down so hard around him it made his hips falter. Mark cursed loudly, his thrusts growing erratic before he finally stilled inside you, his whole body shaking as his own orgasm ripped through him.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, his face buried in your neck as he came hard, his fingers bruising your hips as he emptied himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the castle. Mark stayed inside you, his arms still trembling as he held you against him.

“You okay?” he finally rasped, his voice hoarse and breathless.

You managed a soft, blissed-out laugh. “I think… that was the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Mark pulled back just enough to look at you, his flushed face breaking into a dazed grin. “Yeah? That good?

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling into his lips. “I don’t think I can get enough.”

And Mark laughed, his nose nudging yours as he kissed you again. “Fuck… me neither.”

The train wheezed as it prepared to depart, and you and Mark stumbled onto the platform, both breathless and disheveled from sprinting to catch it in time.

Your hand was still clutching Mark’s as you tried to straighten out your clothes. Your skirt was askew, your shirt half tucked in, and your hair a mess from the rushed… activities prior. Mark didn’t look any better, his tie crooked, his shirt rumpled, and his hair sticking up in odd directions.

“What were you two freaks doing?” Haechan called through the open window as you approached. Karina was beside him, smirking like she already knew the answer.

“Um…” you fumbled, glancing at Mark for backup. “I forgot my… uh… thing, and Mark was helping me find it,” you stammered, tugging at the hem of your skirt in a poor attempt to look composed.

Haechan scoffed. “Right. And I’m the bloody Minister of Magic.”

“Right,” Karina snorted, her eyes narrowing with amusement. “So you’re telling me you two weren’t shagging in the empty dorms while everyone was on the train?”

“What?” Mark drawled, trying to sound appalled but his voice cracked halfway through. “That’s… ridiculous. Do you really think we’re capable of such.. depravity?”

You bit your bottom lip to keep from laughing, but the little grin trying to peek through made it impossible to sell your innocence.

“Mate, your shirt is literally on backwards,” Haechan deadpanned, pointing at Mark’s disastrous state. “Just get on the train, you bloody nymphos.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Mark, always quick with his mouth, gestured wildly. “This is a gross violation of our characters, honestly.”

“Yeah, yeah, get in before we leave you,” Karina waved dismissively, biting back a laugh of her own. “And fix your clothes, lover boy.”

Mark squeezed your hand, grinning like an idiot as he led you onto the train. The two of you practically collapsed into the first empty compartment you found, still a little breathless, and when you finally caught your reflection in the window, you burst out laughing.

“God, we look a mess,” you giggled, trying to smooth down your hair.

Mark plopped down next to you, his head falling back against the seat.

“Worth it though,” he mumbled, a small smile playing on his lips.

He turned his head to look at you, his soft brown eyes melting with affection as he took in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair still a mess from his fingers. His chest tightened with the overwhelming urge to kiss you again, but he just smiled instead. “So worth it.”

The train began to move, and you turned your head toward the window. The castle was still visible in the distance, and your heart clenched at the sight of it shrinking away.

You felt Mark watching you, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… hard, you know?”

Mark’s gaze flicked to the window, watching the last of the castle towers disappear from view. “Yeah… it really is.”

For a moment, you let yourself mourn it— the end of an era, the end of childhood, the end of the place that had been your entire world. But then you felt Mark squeeze your hand, and when you turned to look at him, he was already smiling softly at you.

“But hey,” he said, nudging you gently. “It’s not really the end, we’ve got plans, remember? Summer at mine, then we’ll find our own place. Maybe a flat in London, or I don’t know… wherever you wanna go. We’ve got forever now, Y/N.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled through the sting in your eyes. “Forever?” you repeated softly.

“Forever,” Mark promised, lifting your intertwined hands to press a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I mean, if you’ll have me, obviously.”

You scoffed, giving him a playful shove. “Mark Lee, we literally defiled the Gryffindor dorms fifteen minutes ago. I think you’re stuck with me now.”

Mark let out a loud laugh, his head tipping back, and it was like the heavy weight in your chest finally lifted. Because yes, you were leaving Hogwarts, and yes, things would never be the same again but you had Mark now. You had forever. And that made it all okay.

“Goodbye, Hogwarts,” you whispered under your breath. “Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, the castle disappeared from sight.

asjkjdh i loved writing this so much :(((( i could literally make a whole hogwarts series

#nct x reader #nct dream fic #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct fic #nct imagines #mark lee x you #nct mark #mark lee x reader #nct mark x reader #nct mark smut #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fanfic #mark lee x y/n #mark lee fic

400 notes · View notes

buck-star · 17 hours ago

Note

can you imagine having to ask bucky to genuinely stop/having to use your safe word

Definitely yes! Though, Bucky always takes care of you, keeping an eye on your expression and body language to make sure he doesn’t push you too far. But there can be certain situations where you have to use a safe word anyway.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

18+, Minors DNI, smut

Boyfriend!Bucky made sure you’re choosing a safe word when you both started dating. He wouldn’t have went further than kissing and cuddling if you would have refused.

Boyfriend!Bucky who was forced to do so many things he didn’t want to, would never want to overstep anything. So when it comes to intimacy you have your safe word and Bucky’s constant check in’s.

Boyfriend!Bucky who can read you better than anyone else. He can say if you really enjoy something or not, and if you don’t he immediately stops. Assuring you that you don’t have to let him do anything no matter how much pleasure it might bring him. If you’re not into it, he doesn’t want it either. “Babydoll, there are enough other ways to give me the same amount of pleasure.”

But imagine Bucky on top of you, his cock splitting you open while he thrusts his hips hard against yours. Bucky’s skilled fingers work your sensitive bundle of nerves as he tries to get yet another orgasm from you.

“Come on, babydoll, I know you have one more into you,” he whispers against your lips. Bucky’s fingers press harder against your clit, the speed of the tight circles he’s drawing increasing. A soft whine leaves your lips, your hips bucking when the pleasure turns into pain.

Your poor clit way too overstimulated, the constant touch too much for you. As much as you want to give him another orgasm to let him feel your tight walls squeezing him further, you just can’t. Another whine slips past your lips, followed by your safe word. It’s only a small whimper, almost too quiet to understand but Bucky hears it, immediately stopping all of his movements.

“Shhhh, too much?” He asks softly, pressing his warm lips against your forehead and along your nose to sooth you. You nod slightly, taking a deep breath when you feel his still hard cock inside of you. Bucky pulls back slightly, earning another whine from you. All the stimulation only increases when he moves an inch. “Jus’ wanna pull out, baby doll.”

“No, don’t move,” you whisper, shaking your head while your fingers dig into his muscular back. “Just don’t move.”

Bucky chuckles but stays still, his fingers running through your hair, along your cheeks and down your throat before he trails them back up. All the while he pecks your lips, your forehead and every other part of your face he can reach. He tries as best as he can to keep himself hovering above you without pressing you too hard into the mattress with his weight.

“Better?” You nod, leaning into his touch as you pull him closer. Bucky groans, giving in to your attempt of pulling him down to lay on top of you. “If you need me to get up you have to tell me, don’t want to squeeze you too much.” It’s only a mutter against your lips but he knows that’s what you want right now. What you need. So he lays on top of you, warming and shielding your body from everything while he enjoys the closeness as well as your fingers trailing along his shoulders. “I love you, babydoll. ‘M so proud of you for letting me know about your limits. So fuckin’ proud, my precious.”

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

301 notes · View notes

svt-luna · 2 days ago

Text

𝜗℘ SAY YES TO HEAVEN, SAY YES TO ME

❛ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺— 𝘪’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮, 𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳— '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: Beneath the moonlit skies of Berlin, a moment years in the making sparks a whirlwind of love, laughter, and unspoken promises, with a diamond shining as bright as their future.

warnings: cursing, establish relationship, fluff, crying, JEONGNA DATE!, slightly suggestive moments, mentions of passing out, simp!Jeonghan, simp!Luna, teasing, Jeonghan the rizzler, FLIRTING!, pda… in public, JeongNa having no care in the world whatsoever, may result in the feeling of being single

WE HAVE FINALLY MADE IT, MY LOVES!!! after months of asking and requesting and teasing, we have finally made it! to this highly anticipated day… “drum roll please!” *drum roll* it’s officially proposal day! 🎉🥳 this has to be my absolute favorite work of mine so far and i hope you guys enjoy it as well! happy reading, my loves! 🤍

Luna’s instgarm post for this which i have posted months ago is here— 240910: Berlin

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

It started with a yes.

Not the one Jeonghan was hoping for, not yet, but a quiet, unassuming yes. A yes to a question so ordinary that it almost felt unfair how much weight the final one would carry.

Berlin was unfamiliar terrain, yet it hummed with a certain vibrancy that made SEVENTEEN’s first visit feel both electrifying and fleeting. The city sprawled before them, waiting to be explored in the rare sliver of free time before their upcoming performance at Lollapalooza in a few days. For once, schedules weren’t dictating their every move, and the members took full advantage of it.

Some of the members chose rest, their hotel rooms dark and silent, filled with the slow rise and fall of their steady breathing as they recharged for the days ahead.

Others had ventured out, drawn to Berlin’s streets, its towering landmarks, and the endless stretch of shops waiting to be perused. A few had split off in groups— Mingyu and Dokyeom had excitedly set out in search of the best local food, Hoshi and Dino had somehow convinced Wonwoo to join them on a sightseeing adventure, and Joshua, ever the connoisseur, had been eyeing record stores and coffee shops.

But Jeonghan had chosen neither.

Instead, he sat in the quiet of their hotel room, his long legs stretched out lazily on the couch, eyes trained on the woman sprawled across their bed. Luna lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen as she FaceTimed her cousin and her cousin’s baby.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop— not really.

But it was impossible to ignore her voice, the way it softened into something impossibly gentle, dipped in a warmth that Jeonghan swore made the room feel smaller, cozier.

“Who’s my little baby?” Luna cooed, her voice laced with adoration. She giggled as the baby on the other end let out a high-pitched squeal, his tiny hands flailing toward the screen. “Oh my goodness, you’re getting so big! Are you eating well? You better not be giving your mama a hard time.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, observing the way her entire face softened, her eyes crinkling as she cooed nonsense words at the baby, who was happily babbling back. There was something profoundly mesmerizing about the scene before him— Luna, in her natural state of warmth, love spilling from her in quiet, unguarded moments like this.

“Bubba,” she continued, addressing the baby with a nickname that made Jeonghan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Are you being good for Mommy? Are you? Or are you being a little troublemaker, huh?”

Jeonghan swore he felt something shift inside him, something deep and unspoken that had been resting just beneath the surface for years now. He’d carried the weight of a single question for so long, the ring tucked safely in his possession for what felt like a lifetime.

But suddenly, it felt heavier, as if urging him, nudging him toward the moment he had been waiting for.

Not yet, but soon.. very soon by the looks of it.

He had always known Luna was it for him.

The only question had been when.

And maybe— just maybe— that answer was forming itself now, right in front of him, in the way she smiled, in the way she spoke, in the way she so effortlessly made love something that felt like breathing.

He barely registered when the call ended, when Luna sighed in contentment, placing her phone down on the bedside table beside her before lying on her back. It was only then that Jeonghan found his voice again, though it came out unsteady, like his thoughts had barely caught up with his heart.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk and go sight—”

“Yes.”

Luna didn’t even let him finish.

If fate had a sound, it would be the way she said ‘yes’ without knowing she was sealing her own destiny.

Before she even knew what he was about to ask, she had already said yes.

Jeonghan took that as a good sign.

A slow smile curled on his lips as he stood from the couch, making his way towards her with an air of quiet amusement. He crawled onto the bed, shifting his weight until he was hovering over her, his elbows propped on either side of her as he gazed down at her, his long ash-blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes.

“You always say yes so easily,” Jeonghan teased, reaching down to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you even know what you’re agreeing to?”

Luna hummed, unfazed by his sudden proximity. Instead, she lazily lifted her hand, threading her fingers through his hair, playing with the strands that had grown long again.

“I don’t,” she admitted, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “But that’s us… we’re both only spontaneous when we’re together. I wanna go but only if you promise not to get us lost again.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but the sound was light, almost distracted.

She didn’t know. She had no idea just how much weight he was holding onto at this moment, how her words— spoken so casually— were sinking into him like a prophecy.

His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against her arm as he let himself linger in the moment, drinking her in. “You say that like getting lost with me isn’t one of the best parts of our trips, Nana-ya.”

Luna scoffed, poking his cheek playfully. “It is, but it also means I have to listen to you pretend like you did it on purpose. Like you meant for us to wander into that random alleyway in New York, or that time in Bangkok when we ended up at someone’s actual house instead of the temple.”

Jeonghan gasped in mock offense. “That was one time.”

Luna arched a brow. “It was three times.”

“Details.” He waved off her accusation, letting his weight settle more against her as he sighed in contentment. “You act like you don’t love it when I get us lost. If anything, it’s just another adventure. You should thank me.”

“Oh? Should I?” Luna challenged, tilting her head slightly, fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Mm.” Jeonghan grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe you’ll find something unexpected this time.”

Luna narrowed her eyes, sensing his teasing tone but unable to decipher what exactly he was hinting at. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only hummed, feigning innocence, but there was something in the way he looked at her, something that made her heart stutter just for a moment.

“It means, we should go.” Jeonghan grinned at her.

Thankfully, she let it go, brushing a thumb against his temple before murmuring, “I know, I know. Let’s go.”

“Yeah?”

And then, without thinking, without realizing the sheer irony of it all, Luna said, “Yes.”

Jeonghan exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if the universe itself had just given him its own silent approval.

Luna didn’t know yet.

Didn’t know that her day would begin with a yes so small it seemed insignificant, and end with a yes so life-altering it would rewrite the rest of their tomorrows.

And that’s how Jeonghan and Luna found themselves exploring the streets of Berlin.

They had barely any time in Berlin, but that didn’t stop them, hands intertwined, laughter spilling between them as they wandered through the streets like lovestruck teenagers with nowhere to be. The cool breeze carried the faint scent of roasted nuts and fresh bread from the bustling market nearby, and the distant sound of street musicians played a soft melody that somehow made everything feel even more surreal.

Jeonghan and Luna weren’t in a rush.

If anything, they wanted time to slow down, to stretch every moment they had in this city into something infinite. So, they did everything they could with the little time they had— walking through the cobblestone streets, peeking into boutiques without the intent to buy, taking pictures at random corners just because they liked the lighting. Their phones were filled with blurry selfies, stolen kisses, and the kind of photos only they would find beautiful.

Hand in hand, they strolled through an open-air market, where vendors called out in German, offering everything from handmade crafts to vintage trinkets. Luna dragged Jeonghan to a stand selling delicate flower crowns, placing one atop his head and giggling when he rolled his eyes but didn’t take it off. He, in turn, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before playfully placing a ridiculously large sunhat on her head, declaring, “This is it. This is your new fashion statement.”

With nowhere particular to be, they allowed the city to guide them. They stopped by street artists painting along the sidewalk, watched a mime perform with exaggerated expressions, and even debated over which ice cream flavor was superior— Jeonghan was adamant that pistachio was elite, while Luna stood firm in her love for strawberry.

Every step, every turn, every glance they shared was filled with a warmth that couldn’t be replicated— an unspoken promise that they were happy, here, together.

And then, naturally, they found themselves standing in front of a high-end jewelry store and started to act like they absurdly wealthy socialites choosing items they’ll ‘buy.’

Of course, it was Jeonghan’s idea.

“That will look good on you when you are cooking,” Jeonghan mused, pointing at an extravagant diamond necklace displayed under glass.

Luna, catching on immediately, tilted her head and pursed her lips in faux contemplation. “I think I’ll get that one. For my party in Monaco.”

Jeonghan nodded, completely serious. “A great choice, pretty. I’ll take the diamond-studded cufflinks. To wear… while gardening.”

Luna smirked. “Oh, and we shouldn’t forget our dog’s new diamond-studded collar.”

Jeonghan gasped dramatically. “Oh, of course! Fluffy deserves only the best.”

A store employee, who had been watching them with amused eyes, finally stepped forward and greeted them knowingly. “Would you like to see the collection up close?”

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan and Luna turned to her and, in perfect sync, said, “No, thanks.”

The employee smiled but didn’t retreat. Instead, she launched into a well-rehearsed explanation about the store’s exclusive deals and the quality of their latest collection.

“This season, we have introduced a new range of ethically sourced diamonds, featuring intricate designs inspired by classic European elegance,” she began, gesturing toward a display. “Many of our pieces are custom-made, and we offer personalized engravings at no additional charge—”

Luna, being Luna, felt guilty. She hadn’t meant for the employee to waste her breath on them, and with each passing second, the guilt weighed heavier.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, found it hilarious. His eyes danced with amusement as he watched Luna nod as she shifted on her feet, her conscience warring with her common sense. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “You do realize this is how you get scammed, right?”

Luna waved him off, much too soft-hearted to just walk away now. “I’ll just get something small.”

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath as she stepped inside, already scanning the jewelry cases. “This is why I can’t take you anywhere,” he muttered, following behind her.

The employee, thrilled by the change in pace, immediately directed Luna toward the diamond tennis bracelets.

“These are some of our finest pieces,” she explained. “Crafted with high-quality diamonds set in either white gold or platinum. The design is both timeless and elegant, perfect for everyday wear or special occasions.”

Luna ran her fingers along the glass, eyes twinkling. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured.

Jeonghan, standing behind her, wrapped his arms loosely around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Just so we’re clear, you walked in here out of guilt, and now you’re actually considering buying one?”

Luna ignored him. “Do you have these in a matching set?”

“Yes, of course,” the employee nodded eagerly. “Would you like to see how they fit?”

Before Jeonghan could protest, Luna was already slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. She turned to him with a triumphant grin. “Let’s get matching ones.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I don’t recall agreeing to this.”

Luna batted her lashes at him. “You love me.”

Jeonghan sighed dramatically. “That I do.”

Satisfied, Luna reached for her black card— only for Jeonghan to gently smack it out of her hand, replacing it with his own.

Luna gasped, playfully glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“I pay,” Jeonghan said smoothly.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Luna snatched his card and swapped it with hers again.

Jeonghan raised a brow, taking hers and replacing it once more. “I do.”

Luna, narrowing her eyes, did the same. “You don’t.”

This went on for a full minute, back and forth, exchanging cards with increasing speed, until finally, they both had the same idea.

“Let’s play our game,” Luna declared, already shuffling both their black cards together.

Jeonghan grinned. “I love this game.”

The employee watched, bewildered, as they held up both identical black cards and gestured for her to pick.

Hesitant, she reached forward and selected one, flipping it over.

It was Luna’s.

She beamed, turning to Jeonghan with a victorious smirk before sticking her tongue out at him.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes but leaned in, pressing a soft peck to her lips. “Fine. I’ll let you have this one.”

With that, Luna happily paid, and they left the store hand in hand, both of them now wearing matching diamond tennis bracelets.

A few hours later, they found themselves in a quaint little restaurant tucked away in a quiet alley, the kind of place that wasn’t flashy or tourist-ridden but radiated warmth and authenticity.

The restaurant was the kind of place you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it— small, tucked into a quiet street, with wooden tables that bore the scratches of time and soft yellow lights that cast a golden glow over everything. It was warm inside, the scent of fresh bread and simmering sauces filling the air, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn chill outside. It felt homey, lived-in, like a secret only a few were lucky enough to stumble upon.

Jeonghan and Luna sat across from each other at a small, candlelit table by the window, the flickering light casting shadows over their intertwined fingers. They hadn’t let go since they walked in, their hands naturally gravitating toward each other as if they belonged nowhere else.

The server had greeted them in German, to which Luna, always interested in languages, responded effortlessly with a simple hello in German. Jeonghan, ever the observer, had only smirked as she ordered for them, watching the way she so easily charmed the waiter without even trying.

“Impressive,” he murmured as the server walked away, leaning his cheek against his palm.

Luna raised a brow. “You say that as if I spoke entirely in German. I could only say hello, Han.”

“Still impressive,” he admitted, tilting his head. “Plus… it’s different hearing you speak in a foreign language. You sounded kind of…” He paused, eyes twinkling.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Kind of what?”

Jeonghan took a slow sip of his water, letting the anticipation build. “Hot.”

Luna blinked, then let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

She bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Maybe not.”

Their food arrived shortly after— a spread of freshly baked bread, a bowl of creamy soup, a plate of pasta that smelled like heaven, and a charcuterie board filled with cheeses and meats they could leisurely pick at. It was simple, unpretentious, yet everything about it felt indulgent in the way that only slow meals shared between lovers could.

Jeonghan, of course, wasted no time in stealing from Luna’s plate.

She caught his wrist mid-motion, giving him a pointed look. “Jeongie.”

He blinked innocently. “Yes, my love?”

She sighed, loosening her grip just enough for him to snatch a piece of bread from her plate. He took a triumphant bite, chewing happily as if he had won a battle.

Luna shook her head, but there was no real annoyance in her eyes— only affection. “You have your own food.”

“Yes, but yours tastes better.”

She scoffed, picking up her fork. “You haven’t even tried yours yet.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Yours is still better, Nana-ya.”

Luna rolled her eyes but let him get away with it, nudging his foot under the table in silent retaliation.

They ate at a leisurely pace, talking about nothing and everything, the kind of conversation that didn’t need direction because it flowed so easily.

At one point, Jeonghan took a sip of soup and hummed in approval. “Mm, this is good.”

Luna, already mid-bite of pasta, gave him a knowing look. “You’re going to steal mine next, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan gasped, feigning offense. “I would never.”

Luna gave him a deadpan stare. “Yoon Jeonhan.”

“…Okay, but just one bite.”

She sighed but held out her spoon for him anyway. He leaned forward, taking the spoon into his mouth in a way that was far too slow, eyes locked on hers as he pulled away.

Luna felt warmth creep up her neck. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

He smirked. “Doing what, love of my life?”

She huffed, stabbing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Being insufferable.”

“You love it.”

Luna didn’t dignify that with a response, but the way she hid her smile behind her glass of water gave her away.

Jeonghan just watched her, the rest of the world fading into a quiet blur.

She looked effortlessly beautiful like this— soft, relaxed, glowing in the candlelight. Strands of her hair fell loosely around her face, framing her features in a way that made his heart clench.

He had always thought she was stunning, had always known it, but something about seeing her like this, in the simplest of moments, made him feel like he was discovering her beauty all over again.

And then, the thought crept in.

I could just ask her right now. Jeonghan thought.

The realization hit him so suddenly that it almost startled him.

He could do it— right here, right now.

He had the ring.

He always had the ring with him ever since he got it… two years ago.

He had everything he needed.

And God, wasn’t this enough?

Wasn’t she enough?

She was sitting right in front of him, laughing, stealing bites of his food now in retaliation, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way he loved. She was warmth and light and the only person he had ever wanted to spend forever with.

His fingers twitched against the fabric of his pocket, where the small velvet box had rested for two years now, waiting.

He had carried it with him more times than he could count, always thinking, Maybe this is the moment.

But it never was.

And now, as he sat across from her, watching her twirl pasta around her fork with a quiet hum, he realized that this wasn’t the moment either.

It was too… ordinary.

Not that he minded ordinary— not when it came to her, not when it came to them. He didn’t need anything grand or fancy. He didn’t need anything crazy or out of this world. Jeonghan was a simple man and so was Luna. But if he was going to ask the question, it couldn’t be here. It couldn’t be in a restaurant, no matter how charming or intimate.

It couldn’t be in a place where they were still careful, where their love was something they had to keep hidden.

They were public figures in a very public space, their relationship a carefully guarded secret for the past five years.

He couldn’t do it like this here.

It wasn’t perfect enough for him.

And Jeonghan had waited too long— loved her too much— to settle for anything less than perfect.

So he didn’t ask.

Not yet at least.

Instead, he reached across the table, brushing a stray crumb off the corner of her lips with his thumb, letting it linger there just a second too long.

Luna blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden touch, then softened. “What?”

Jeonghan only smiled. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying him. “You’re looking at me weird.”

He shrugged, leaning back lazily in his chair. “Can’t a man admire the mother of my future children?”

Luna choked on her drink, coughing as she reached for her napkin. “Yoon Jeonghan—”

He grinned, watching her fluster. “What? You’re going to be the mother of my kids one day, aren’t you?”

She huffed, shaking her head as she regained composure. “Not if you keep making me choke on my water.”

Jeonghan’s smirk only widened. “I make you breathless, huh?”

She groaned, tossing a piece of bread at him, which he caught effortlessly. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he said, popping the bread into his mouth.

Luna sighed, but the corners of her lips betrayed her. “Unfortunately.”

He reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers effortlessly. “Fortunately,” he corrected, voice softer now.

And when she looked at him then— really looked at him— Jeonghan knew he was right.

He would ask.

Just not yet.

After eating they ended up walking to a park. The park stretched before them, bathed in the soft golden hues of the late afternoon sun. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves and distant roasted chestnuts from a street vendor somewhere nearby. The path beneath their feet was lined with towering trees, their branches swaying gently as if whispering secrets to the wind.

Luna tightened her grip around Jeonghan’s hand, her fingers lacing between his effortlessly, as though they had been molded to fit together. His touch was warm, grounding, steady— like the very presence of him always was.

A fluffy Samoyed trotted past them, its thick white fur catching the sunlight like a halo. The poor owner at the other end of the leash struggled to hold on as the excitable dog bounded after a stray autumn leaf that had dared to escape the confines of the path.

Luna gasped, her entire face lighting up in an instant as she tugged on Jeonghan’s arm. “Hannie,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper but brimming with excitement. “Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Jeonghan followed her gaze, unimpressed, hands buried deeper into his coat pockets. He tilted his head slightly as if analyzing the situation before making a rather nonchalant observation.

“It’s cute, sure,” he said, nodding. “But imagine something smaller. More portable. I’m more of a ‘tiny dog in a handbag’ kind of guy. Like a Pomeranian I can carry in my bag.”

Luna came to an abrupt stop, turning to stare at him, scandalized. The sheer betrayal in her expression was almost theatrical. “You’re joking.”

Jeonghan smirked, ever the picture of mischief. “Nope. Picture it— me, in sunglasses, walking through the airport with a tiny Pomeranian peeking out of my designer tote. Full celebrity mode.”

Luna groaned loudly, throwing her head back in exasperation. “You would carry it around like an accessory.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, nodding in satisfaction. “Imagine the power move. Paparazzi photos of me casually sipping coffee, little dog in tow. We’d be iconic.”

Luna gave him a deadpan stare. “You’re the actual drama.”

Jeonghan squeezed her hand, feigning deep contemplation. “So, compromise,” he mused. “What if we get two? One fluffy Samoyed for you, and one high-fashion, pint-sized diva for me?”

Luna pursed her lips, pretending to consider it before shrugging. “Fine.”

“Good,” Jeonghan said, as if it had been a crucial negotiation. “You can handle the big one. I’ll be busy styling mine.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed her amusement.

They resumed their walk, deeper into the park, their hands still intertwined. The chatter of people slowly faded into the background, replaced by the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves beneath their feet. The golden glow of the setting sun peeked through the tree branches, casting elongated shadows across the path. The park was quieter here, the world slowing down to match their unhurried pace.

Jeonghan, ever observant, caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. A few people, phones discreetly raised, stood at a distance, filming them.

Fans.

Luna noticed too, but neither of them reacted much. Their fans knew how close they were— had known for years. Holding hands wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. They had spent half a decade in each other’s orbit, and while the world didn’t know the true depth of their relationship, moments like these weren’t unusual in the eyes of those who followed them.

Still, Jeonghan couldn’t resist stirring the pot. He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Do you think if I dip you like a ballroom dancer, they’ll start clapping?”

Luna, laughing but pulling him back, shook her head. “Don’t you dare. You’re already this close to making me trip over my own feet.”

Jeonghan grinned, unbothered. “If you fall, I fall. That’s romance, baby.”

Luna deadpanned, her expression utterly unimpressed. “That’s gravity, baby.”

He snorted, squeezing her hand tighter as they continued walking. The fans remained at a distance, respecting their space, and after a while, they seemed to fade away, as if realizing this moment wasn’t meant to be interrupted.

With the sun dipping lower into the horizon, the park grew even quieter. The warm hues of daylight melted into the cool shades of dusk, the air carrying a sharper chill now. Jeonghan instinctively shifted closer to Luna, his coat brushing against hers. She, in turn, burrowed against his side slightly, as if drawn to his warmth.

“Do you think we’ll ever get caught?” she asked, voice softer now, more pensive.

Jeonghan hummed. “If we do, I hope it’s when we look really good,” he said. “Like, I want the lighting to be perfect. Angles immaculate. None of that ‘caught off guard’ nonsense.”

Luna laughed. “Of course you’d think about that.”

“Obviously.” He smirked. “If we’re going down, we’re going down looking fucking expensive.”

She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You know what’s funny? We’ve spent five years sneaking around, and yet, one of the main reasons why we’re not fully outed is because people think we’re too obvious to be real.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Right? That’s the best part. We hold hands, wear matching outfits, disappear at the same time, and somehow, we’re still ‘just besties.’”

Luna nudged him playfully. “Maybe we should start acting less suspicious.”

Jeonghan feigned shock. “And deny the people their favorite mystery? What would they do without their detective work? We’re providing entertainment.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him regardless, their fingers still tangled together as they walked deeper into the park, where the world felt smaller, quieter, just the two of them against the backdrop of the fading sun.

They wandered deeper into the park, hand in hand, the air crisp with the scent of autumn and earth. The path before them was dappled with golden light filtering through the thinning canopy of trees, and a gentle breeze carried the soft rustling of leaves across the open space.

The further they walked, the more secluded it became— fewer people, fewer distractions, just them and the steady rhythm of their footsteps against the leaf-strewn ground.

Luna, still holding Jeonghan’s hand, let her gaze wander over the scenery, taking in the tranquil beauty of it all. And then—

She gasped, her fingers slipping from his as she suddenly bolted forward, her laughter trailing behind her like the lingering scent of something sweet.

Jeonghan barely had time to process before she was crouched before a massive pile of fallen leaves, her eyes wide with excitement, her entire face alight with a childlike joy that made his heart stutter.

“What— Jiyeonie—” He blinked, watching her run her fingers through the pile as if searching for something. “Uh. Are we… searching for treasure?”

“No,” Luna said, completely serious as she scooped up a handful of leaves and began carefully arranging them on the ground. “I’m about to make art.”

Jeonghan exhaled a small chuckle, stepping closer with amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Art?”

Luna nodded, already focused, her fingers meticulously sorting through the leaves with practiced ease. “I used to do this all the time when I was little. Every autumn, when the leaves started falling, I’d go outside and make designs with them. Animals, flowers, little faces— sometimes even whole landscapes if I had the time.”

She glanced up at him briefly, her expression soft with nostalgia. “Back in London, my mum and I would go for walks in the park near our house, and I’d stop every few minutes to gather the prettiest leaves I could find. Then I’d sit on the grass and arrange them into shapes while she read on a bench nearby. She used to say I had the patience of a sculptor.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he crouched beside her, watching the way she worked with quiet reverence.

There was something so inherently Luna about this— so meticulous yet playful, so creative and endearing. He could almost picture it: a younger version of her, bundled up in a coat and scarf, sitting cross-legged on a damp patch of grass, completely absorbed in her art.

He smiled. “So this is a lifelong passion.”

“Obviously,” Luna said, lips pursed in concentration as she placed a particularly vibrant red leaf in what appeared to be an ear. “You’re witnessing greatness in real-time.”

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning back on his palms as he observed. “What’s today’s masterpiece?”

“You— My Melody,” she answered matter-of-factly, gesturing at the loose but recognizable shape forming before them.

He hummed in approval, crossing his arms as he admired her work. And then, with the air of someone about to contribute something truly groundbreaking, he plucked two small twigs from the ground and carefully set them atop My Melody’s head.

Luna gasped in absolute horror. “You just turned her into an alien!”

Jeonghan leaned back, nodding with satisfaction. “Innovation, my moon.”

Luna dramatically clutched her heart. “How dare you ruin her?”

“Ruined? No, no.” Jeonghan shook his head, grinning. “Enhanced.” He pointed at the altered creation, his expression one of smug accomplishment. “You see, this is My Melody’s long-lost cousin from space. Intergalactic My Melody.”

Luna gawked at him, then scoffed as she grabbed the twigs and threw them at him with an exaggerated flick of her wrist. “Get out of my artistic vision!”

Jeonghan dodged effortlessly, laughing. “You’re just mad because I’m a visionary.”

She gave him a long, unimpressed stare before sighing and turning back to her creation. With careful hands, she fixed the design, her lips pursed in concentration before she finally pulled out her phone to snap a picture.

Jeonghan, however, wasn’t quite done watching her. There was something about the way she looked right now— completely absorbed, wholly unguarded—that made him pause. And then, softer, he murmured, “You know… I like watching you like this.”

Luna glanced up, tilting her head. “Like what?”

Jeonghan tilted his own head in thought before offering her a small, genuine smile. “Happy. Unbothered. Just… you.”

Luna blinked at him, warmth blooming in her chest, slow and golden like the autumn light around them. Slowly, a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, of course I’m happy,” she said, reaching for his hand without hesitation. “I’m with you.”

Jeonghan squeezed her fingers in return, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against her skin. Somewhere in the distance, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sound of quiet laughter between them as they continued venturing deeper into the park.

The air felt cooler now, but neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, Luna pressed closer to Jeonghan, and he, in turn, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side with a contented hum.

“You really used to do that all the time as a kid?” he asked, circling back to their earlier conversation.

Luna nodded, leaning into his warmth. “Every year. Without fail.”

Jeonghan grinned, amused. “I can’t imagine little you sitting still long enough to make a whole art piece.”

“Oh, I didn’t sit still. I’d dart around the park gathering leaves for the perfect colors,” she said, waving a hand dramatically. “It was a process, you see. I had standards.”

Jeonghan chuckled. “Of course you did.”

Luna sighed wistfully. “It was always my favorite part of autumn. That, and jumping into leaf piles.”

Jeonghan arched a brow, glancing down at her. “Are you about to tell me you want to do that right now?”

Luna smirked. “What, scared you’ll mess up your hair?”

He scoffed. “I’ll have you know, my hair is built for resilience.”

She hummed. “We’ll see about that.”

Before he could react, Luna suddenly spun out of his hold, taking off toward another large pile of leaves a few steps away. With absolutely no hesitation, she threw herself into it, landing with a laugh as the leaves crunched beneath her.

Jeonghan stared. “Bae Jiyeon— be careful— you’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Luna sing-songed, peeking up at him from the scattered mess.

Jeonghan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head fondly before stepping forward. He crouched beside her, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her with an amused tilt of his head. “Having fun down there?”

Luna grinned. “Loads.”

He sighed, giving her a long, considering look before finally muttering, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” And then, much to her delight (and his own inevitable regret), he flopped down beside her, sending another flurry of leaves into the air.

Luna gasped, eyes wide. “You did it.”

Jeonghan groaned, but there was no bite to his words. “This better be worth it.”

Luna beamed, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It totally is.”

And just like that, Jeonghan found he couldn’t argue.

Afterwards, Jeonghan let Luna tug him along by the hand, their fingers intertwined, their pace unhurried. There was a softness in the air, the kind that only came with autumn evenings, where the crisp breeze nipped at their cheeks, but the warmth of each other’s presence was enough to chase away the cold.

Luna was still giddy from her leaf art, occasionally glancing at her phone to admire the picture she had taken, and Jeonghan, ever the opportunist, took the moment to tease.

“Are you going to frame that?” he mused, peering over her shoulder.

Luna scoffed, locking her phone and giving him a playful shove. “Obviously. This is a masterpiece. It deserves to be remembered.”

Jeonghan hummed, tilting his head as if deep in thought. “Should we submit it to a museum? Maybe the Louvre? ‘Intergalactic My Melody’— it could be the next Mona Lisa.”

Luna groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Why do you have to ruin everything, Jeongie?”

“I don’t ruin things. I make them better,” Jeonghan corrected, bumping his shoulder against hers.

Luna shook her head, but there was a fond smile playing on her lips. “You’re impossible.”

Jeonghan grinned. “And yet, you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way her fingers tightened around his gave her away. “Unfortunately.”

He gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “The betrayal! After everything I’ve done for you!”

“Oh, yes, because ruining my leaf art is such an act of devotion,” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jeonghan chuckled, pulling her closer so he could drape an arm over her shoulders. “I’ll have you know, my dear, that my presence alone is a gift.”

Luna snorted, leaning into his warmth. “A curse, more like.”

“You wound me,” he said dramatically, resting his head against hers.

She sighed, but it was laced with amusement. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Jeonghan smirked. “That’s because you’re obsessed with me.”

Luna hummed, as if contemplating. “Hmm… obsessed might be a strong word.”

Jeonghan stopped walking, placing a hand over his heart. “Nana-ya,” he said in an exaggeratedly pained voice, “after years, this is how you treat me?”

Luna turned to face him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just keeping you humble, love.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oh, so that’s your game?”

She grinned, standing on her toes to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Mm-hmm.”

His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her in closer. “Then I guess I’ll have to remind you just how obsessed you are,” he murmured, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Luna, to her credit, kept her cool. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Jeonghan leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “By making you say my name in that lovesick voice you always use when you’re being needy or when you think I’m not listening.”

Luna’s breath hitched, her cheeks warming despite the chilly air. “I do not—”

“You do,” Jeonghan interrupted smugly. “It’s cute. Adorable, really.”

Luna huffed, poking his chest. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, still holding my hand, still hopelessly in love with me,” he teased.

She exhaled through her nose, feigning exasperation, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Fine. You win.”

Jeonghan gasped dramatically. “Say it again. I want to record it for proof.”

Luna groaned, but she was laughing, and Jeonghan knew— knew without a doubt— that he would never get tired of this. Of her. Of the way she looked at him like he was her entire world, even when she pretended to be annoyed.

And as the last sliver of sunlight dipped behind the horizon, casting them in the golden afterglow of autumn, he realized something— he had already won.

As the evening deepened, the soft hues of twilight stretched across the sky, casting a gentle glow over the secluded part of the park they had wandered into.

The air was cooler now, the crisp scent of the lake blending with the earthy fragrance of the grass beneath their feet. Towering above them was a majestic willow tree, its long, delicate branches swaying with the evening breeze, cascading down like a curtain shielding them from the rest of the world. Beneath the tree, the lake shimmered under the fading light, its surface rippling gently. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.

Luna’s eyes widened as she spotted movement in the lake. “Oh,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Two swans glided across the water, their pristine white feathers illuminated by the moon’s emerging glow.

Luna gasped, her face lighting up with childlike wonder before she instinctively stepped closer, her movements slow and careful so as not to startle them. The swans, however, remained unbothered, merely continuing their serene journey across the lake as if they had deemed her presence non-threatening.

Jeonghan, who had been trailing behind her, let out a quiet sigh before following. He watched as she crouched near the lake’s edge, her eyes locked onto the birds, mesmerized. The glow of the moon danced across her face, highlighting the softness of her features.

“Be careful,” he warned gently, stopping just a step behind her. “Swans still bite, you know.”

Luna turned her head slightly, flashing him a small, amused smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He exhaled, giving her a knowing look. “You say that, but you almost fell in trying to get closer just now.”

Luna waved him off with a dismissive flick of her wrist, her attention already back on the swans as she cooed at them softly. “Oh, hush. They’re so graceful… look at them, Hannie,” she murmured, completely enchanted.

Jeonghan didn’t respond— not because he didn’t agree, but because, for the past few minutes, he hadn’t been looking at the swans.

He had been looking at her.

The way her eyes reflected the water’s surface, gleaming with quiet joy. The way the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly, a small, wistful smile forming as she admired the birds. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, strands occasionally catching the wind and brushing against her face.

These were all things he had noticed before— things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

But then, there were the little things, the ones he hadn’t fully realized until now.

The way her nose scrunched slightly whenever she focused intently on something. The way her fingers curled over her knees as she crouched, as if anchoring herself to the moment. The way she occasionally hummed under her breath without even realizing it, a quiet melody of contentment.

He felt something deep within his chest tighten, warmth spreading through him like a gentle tide.

He knew he would fall in love with more things about her.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that this was the moment.

The moment to do it.

It was the moment to finally ask her.

The swans eventually drifted away, disappearing into the distance, and Luna, satisfied with her little encounter, pushed herself back up to her feet, stretching her arms above her head.

Jeonghan bent down, picking up a smooth stone from the ground, testing its weight in his palm before effortlessly flicking it across the lake’s surface.

It skipped three times before sinking.

Luna watched, tilting her head. “I’ve never been good at that,” she admitted.

Jeonghan smirked, tossing another stone up and catching it. “Want me to teach you?”

Luna pursed her lips in thought before picking up her own stone. She mimicked his movement, flicking her wrist— only for the stone to plop unceremoniously into the water without a single skip. She blinked, then slowly turned to Jeonghan with an exaggerated pout.

His laughter came immediately, warm and amused, before he reached over and affectionately flicked her nose. “Cute,” he murmured.

Luna scrunched her nose at the action but smiled nonetheless.

Jeonghan then grabbed another stone before stepping behind her, his chest pressing lightly against her back as he wrapped his arms around hers. His fingers ghosted over hers as he adjusted her grip, his voice low and patient.

“Loosen your wrist a little. You’re flicking it too stiffly.”

She nodded, feeling his warmth surround her, and let him guide her hand.

“Now, angle it slightly. You want the stone to touch the water at just the right tilt so it doesn’t sink immediately.”

His chin nearly rested on her shoulder as he spoke, his breath tickling her ear. Luna swallowed, focusing on his words rather than the way he was practically enveloping her.

“Got it?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, now flick— gently.”

She did as instructed, following the movement of his arms. The stone left her fingers, skipping once, twice, three times before disappearing beneath the surface.

Luna gasped, twisting in his hold to face him. “Did you see that?!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

Jeonghan chuckled, watching her burst with excitement. “I saw, I saw.”

She turned back, still beaming. “I did it!”

He smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Told you. Just needed my expert guidance.”

Luna playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Let’s see if I can do it myself.”

She bent down again, picking up another stone with renewed determination. Jeonghan stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched her prepare.

She inhaled, flicked her wrist— and this time, the stone skipped twice before sinking.

Luna let out a delighted squeal, immediately turning back to him. “Did you see that?! I did it again!”

Jeonghan chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You’re a natural now.”

Luna huffed, swatting his hand away, but her smile remained wide. “I should go pro.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “Pro at skipping rocks?”

“Yes.” She tossed another, this one failing miserably. She blinked, before laughing at herself. “Okay, maybe not.”

Jeonghan shook his head fondly. “Don’t quit your day job just yet.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before picking up another stone, determined to try again.

And as he watched her, her laughter echoing softly in the quiet night, Jeonghan’s heart swelled.

He really, truly, couldn’t wait to spend forever with her.

He’s about to.

The rhythmic plopping of stones against the water filled the quiet night air as Luna, standing at the water’s edge, let out a triumphant laugh. She had finally gotten the hang of skipping rocks, and the way the small stones bounced across the surface sent a rush of exhilaration through her.

“Did you see that?” she called over her shoulder, breathless with excitement. “That one went four times!”

Jeonghan, crouched a few feet behind her, hummed in amusement, his lips tugging into a smirk as he absentmindedly picked up another smooth stone from the ground. “Not bad,” he mused, running his thumb over the cool surface before handing it over. “But I think you can do five.”

Without looking back, Luna reached her hand behind her, her fingers blindly grasping for the next rock, and Jeonghan slipped it into her palm effortlessly. She adjusted her stance, took a deep breath, and flicked her wrist. The stone danced across the water— one, two, three, four… five.

“Yes!” she cheered, spinning slightly on her heel before looking back at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Did you see that?! Five skips, Jeongie!”

He chuckled, nodding, already fishing another stone from the ground. “I saw, good job. I knew you could do it,” he assured her, handing her another. “But now you’ve got to go for six.”

Luna grinned, her competitive streak flaring. “Oh, I can do six,” she declared confidently, turning back around as she lined up her next throw.

Jeonghan remained behind her, watching with quiet adoration as she lost herself in the simple joy of the game. There was something almost childlike in the way she celebrated each successful skip, in the way her body practically hummed with excitement. He kept supplying her with stones, handing them over whenever she reached back without thinking, their movements fluid and synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

“Okay, six skips,” she muttered to herself, bracing her stance before throwing another. The stone soared across the water— one, two, three, four… and then it sank.

“Damn,” she sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “I got too cocky.”

Jeonghan laughed, already placing another rock in her waiting hand. “It happens to the best of us, my moon.”

Luna huffed, but there was no real frustration in her voice, only determination. “Alright, next one. I feel it. This is the one.”

She threw again. Five skips.

“Ahh, so close!” she groaned.

Jeonghan smirked, his fingers already brushing the ground for another rock— but then he hesitated. His hand hovered over the pebbles for a moment before his eyes flickered to the small box tucked securely in his pocket.

An idea struck him like lightning.

The corners of his lips curled, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto his face as he reached into his pocket instead, fingers wrapping around the box as he exhaled softly. His heart pounded, steady but strong, like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

Luna, oblivious, held her hand out behind her again, fingers wiggling impatiently. “Come on, Hannie. Another one, please.”

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he carefully flipped the small box open, revealing the delicate oval diamond ring nestled inside. His breath was steady, his movements sure as he lowered himself onto one knee, the cool pavement pressing against his knee as he positioned himself directly behind her.

Luna, still blissfully unaware, waited for the familiar feeling of a rock against her palm. But instead, something entirely different met her touch.

Smooth. Cold.

Not the rough texture of a stone— but something else.

Her fingers brushed over the unexpected object, and she froze. Mid-sentence, mid-motion, her entire body halted as a small frown crossed her face.

“What is—”

Her voice trailed off, her breath catching in her throat as she turned around— slow, hesitant, almost afraid to confirm the thought forming in her mind.

And then she saw him.

Yoon Jeonghan.

On one knee.

A small black velvet box in his hand.

An oval diamond ring gleaming under the soft glow of the moonlight.

Luna’s breath left her in a sharp, staggering exhale.

Jeonghan’s grin was easy, mischievous, and entirely confident as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes twinkling with something almost playful.

“What do you think?” he mused, voice smooth as silk. “Wanna keep this rock instead?”

Luna’s heart stopped.

Literally stopped.

Her body swayed slightly, her legs locking up as if the ground beneath her had disappeared entirely. Her mind was blank— completely blank— her thoughts refusing to catch up to what she was seeing.

Her chest tightened, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts as her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Han— what is—”

The words barely made it past her lips, her voice nothing more than a breathless whisper.

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened as he raised an eyebrow at her, his confidence never wavering. “You know exactly what it is, Nana-ya,” he said smoothly. “All you have to do is just say yes.”

Luna’s breath hitched. Her eyes, wide and glassy, burned with the sting of overwhelming emotion. Her hands trembled at her sides, her fingers twitching as though unsure whether to reach for him or to hold herself together.

“What?” she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath shaky, her hands shakier.

She needed to hear him say it— for her sanity, for her heart, for the sheer disbelief consuming her entire being.

And he did.

“Marry me, baby,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice unwavering, his gaze locked onto hers with a certainty that stole the air straight from her lungs.

The moment the words left his lips, the dam broke.

A sharp, choked sob tore from Luna’s throat as the tears she had been holding back poured out, fast and relentless. Her knees buckled, the weight of the moment too much, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed onto the pavement, falling from her kneeling position onto her bottom, her hands flying up to cover her face as her sobs wracked through her body.

Jeonghan’s smile softened, his heart swelling at the sight of her completely overwhelmed, completely undone, completely his.

For a moment, he just watched her, his chest tightening in the best way possible, before he leaned forward slightly, his voice low, teasing, full of the love he couldn’t contain any longer, he needed to say it again.

“Marry me, Bae Jiyeon.”

Jeonghan exhaled softly, his heart aching at the sight of Luna so overwhelmed, tears spilling down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away.

Without hesitation, he moved closer, his arms slipping around her as he scooped her up with ease, shifting her into his lap. The cold pavement pressed beneath them, but neither of them cared— nothing else existed in that moment but the two of them. His hands ran up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes, and he rocked her ever so slightly, the gentle motion coaxing her out of the sobs that shook her small frame.

Luna clung to him instinctively, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as she buried her face into his shoulder. Jeonghan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring soft reassurances as she let her emotions pour out.

“You wanna marry me?” she whispered against his shoulder, her voice so small, so fragile, it sent a shiver down Jeonghan’s spine.

God, she had no idea what those words did to him. His arms tightened around her as he let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head down to press another kiss against her hair before responding.

“Luna, baby,” he cooed, his voice dipping into something soft, something so full of love it was almost tangible. “Of course, I do. I wanna marry you so badly it’s been driving me insane.”

She sniffled, her breath shaky as she slightly pulled away to look up at him, her eyes glassy and red-rimmed. Jeonghan reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear before cradling her face between his palms, his thumbs catching stray tears as he gazed at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Because to him, she was.

“Being your teammate makes me feel invincible,” he began, his voice steady, sure. “Like no matter what, we can take on the world together, side by side. Being your best friend makes me feel safe, like I have someone who knows me, sees me, understands me in a way no one else does.”

Luna hiccupped, her lips parting as her tears fell harder, but Jeonghan continued, his tone unwavering.

“Dating you, though?” He smiled, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “That makes me feel alive. It’s exhilarating, it’s terrifying, it’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. But the thought of marrying you—” He let out a breath, his fingers tightening ever so slightly against her skin. “The thought of spending the rest of my life as your husband? That makes me feel like I’ve finally found where I belong.”

Luna let out a strangled little sound, her hands clumsily gripping at his wrists, her eyes pleading, overwhelmed. “Jeonghan—”

“Shh, baby, I’m not done.” He kissed the tip of her nose, smiling when she whined.

“I love the way you hum when you’re doing something you enjoy. I love the way you organize things but somehow still manage to lose your phone every five minutes. I love the way you get way too invested in drama shows and yell at the screen like they can hear you.” He chuckled, and Luna let out a shaky breath, gripping at his sleeves. “I love how you always pretend like you’re fine even when you’re not, but I see through it every single time. I love how you love so deeply, so completely, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I love how even after all these years, you still look at me like I hung the moon.”

Luna squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as she hiccupped again, the weight of his words making her dizzy. “You— you need to stop,” she whined, her voice muffled as she pressed her hands over her face. “You’re too much— I feel like— I feel like I’m gonna pass out—”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, prying her hands away from her face as he cupped her cheeks once more. “You’re not gonna pass out, baby,” he murmured, kissing away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. “You’re just feeling everything all at once.” Another kiss to her forehead. “And that’s okay.” A kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you.” A kiss to her nose. “I always will.” A final kiss, this time lingering at the corner of her lips.

Luna sniffled, her body trembling slightly in his arms, but her breathing had evened out, her sobs quieting into soft hiccups. She blinked up at him, her doe eyes still wet with tears, her lips parted as if she was searching for the right words.

“You love me that much?” she finally asked, her voice so quiet, so full of wonder, it nearly broke him.

Jeonghan’s expression softened, his smile warm as he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you more than that,” he murmured. “More than words, more than anything. You’re it for me, Luna. Always have been.”

Jeonghan stared at her— this woman who had somehow become the center of his universe without him even realizing it. But he needed her to realize it. Needed her to understand, without a shadow of a doubt, just how deeply, irrevocably, impossibly he loved her.

“Jiyeon-ah,” he started, his voice softer now, but no less intense. His fingers skimmed over her cheek, tracing the shape of her face as if memorizing it all over again. “If there was a word greater than love, if there was an emotion that surpassed it, if there was a way to quantify just how much I need you, then that’s what this is.”

Luna let out a trembling breath, her lashes still damp, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as if holding onto him would keep her grounded.

“I love you in ways I don’t think the world has words for,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “It’s not just love— it’s devotion, it’s adoration, it’s this ridiculous, overwhelming, all-consuming need to make sure you’re happy, safe, and beside me for the rest of my life. It’s wanting to be the reason you smile first thing in the morning and the last thing you see before you fall asleep. It’s the way my heart physically hurts when you’re sad and feels like it’s about to explode when you’re happy. It’s every damn thing, Bae Jiyeon.”

Luna shook her head weakly, as if she couldn’t handle the weight of his words, as if they were too much.

But Jeonghan wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it, my pretty moon,” he whispered, leaning in so their noses brushed, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re my home. You’re my best friend and my greatest love. If I could rewrite the dictionary, if I could invent a new language, it still wouldn’t be enough to explain how much I love you.”

Luna let out a soft, broken whimper before she suddenly dropped her forehead to his shoulder, her body pressing fully against him. She inhaled shakily against his skin before whispering, “You need to stop. I’m serious— I’m gonna black out.”

Jeonghan let out a breathy laugh, his palm immediately coming up to the back of her neck, warm and steady as he gently lifted her head. His fingers curled slightly, tilting her face up so their eyes met once again. His gaze softened as he took her in— the flushed curve of her cheeks, the glossy sheen in her eyes, the way her lips parted just slightly as if she was still trying to catch her breath.

His eyes flickered across her face, tracing every detail before his gaze dropped to her lips.

And then, without another word, he leaned in.

The moment their lips met, it was soft. Delicate. A mere brush, a gentle press, as if he was still savoring the moment. But then Luna made a tiny sound— a breathy little sigh against his lips— and something in Jeonghan snapped.

His hand tightened at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his other arm coiling around her waist like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. Luna melted into him, her fingers twisting into his sweater as her lips moved against his, matching his urgency, his desperation.

The kiss shifted, slow and sweet one second, then fierce and demanding the next. Jeonghan angled his head, his lips parting as he took her deeper, tasting the remnants of her earlier tears, the warmth of her breath mingling with his own. Luna gasped softly into his mouth, and that only made him kiss her harder, his lips molding perfectly against hers, as if this was what they had been made for.

His teeth caught her lower lip for a fleeting second before soothing the sting with his tongue, his hands roaming, pressing, holding.

It wasn’t just a kiss— it was a confession, an exhale, an entire vow wrapped into one singular moment.

By the time they finally pulled away, their breaths were ragged, their foreheads still pressed together as they tried to steady themselves.

Jeonghan was the first to break the silence, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk as he murmured, “By the way, if you don’t answer soon, I might start skipping this ring across the lake.”

Luna let out a choked laugh, her head tilting back slightly as she looked at him with watery eyes and the softest smile.

And then, with a nod, she whispered, “Yes.”

Jeonghan exhaled, his breath shaky yet filled with something indescribable— something so raw, so profound, that it felt like the entire world had just tilted on its axis. His fingers trembled slightly as he held onto her, his heart hammering against his ribs, but his voice was steady when he whispered, “Yeah?”

Luna nodded again, a watery smile playing on her lips as she whispered back, “Yes.”

But Jeonghan wasn’t satisfied with that. He needed more. Needed to hear it fully, clearly, explicitly, just so it would settle into his bones as an irreversible truth. His hand remained at the back of her neck, keeping her gaze locked onto his as he murmured, “Say it.”

Luna let out a soft chuckle, the sound breathless yet full of warmth, before she gave him exactly what he wanted. “Yes, I will marry you, Yoon Jeonghan.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Jeonghan’s face— the kind of smile that was purely, undeniably him. A mixture of smugness and affection, mischief and sincerity, all wrapped up in that signature expression of his. “Lucky you.”

Luna huffed out a laugh before gently smacking his chest. “Oh my god, can you be normal for one second?”

“This is me being normal,” Jeonghan grinned, entirely unrepentant.

Still laughing, Luna shook her head, but her eyes softened when Jeonghan reached for the ring. The massive diamond glistened under the moonlight, catching every tiny flicker of light as he held it between his fingers.

For a second, he just stared at it, as if the weight of this moment was truly sinking in. And then, with a deliberate slowness, he slipped it onto Luna’s left ring finger.

It was a perfect fit.

Luna stared at it, her lips parting slightly in awe. The way it sat on her hand felt… right. Like it had always belonged there, waiting for this very moment. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, turning her hand slightly to admire how it gleamed.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head. “It better be perfect,” he said before giving her a knowing look. “Took me long enough to get your size right.”

Luna glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan let out a pleased sigh, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re a heavy sleeper, baby. Measured your finger while you were knocked out.”

Luna gasped before bursting into laughter, her head tilting back as she playfully shoved his shoulder. “You what?! You could’ve just taken one of my rings for reference!”

Jeonghan raised a brow, looking thoroughly entertained. “What’s the fun in that?”

She gave him a look of pure exasperation, but there was no real annoyance behind it— just a deep, overwhelming fondness.

They both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, just staring at each other, just being. And then, after a few seconds, Luna spoke again, her voice soft yet filled with so much emotion.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Jeonghan’s gaze softened instantly. He lifted a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before letting his fingers trail gently down her jaw. “I love you,” he murmured.

Luna’s lips curled up into a small, tender smile. “I love you too— so much.”

And then, she leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss.

This time, the kiss was different. It wasn’t urgent or desperate like before. It was slow, steady, and overflowing with emotion. Luna’s hands slid up to cradle Jeonghan’s face, her fingers pressing gently into his jaw as she melted against him. Jeonghan sighed into her mouth, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, holding her close— closer than ever before.

Their lips moved in perfect sync, a gentle dance of love and promise. Jeonghan’s thumb brushed against her cheek as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, savoring every single second. It was warm and sweet, delicate yet unyielding, like the most silent yet profound declaration of love.

By the time they pulled away, their breaths were mingling, their noses brushing as they remained impossibly close. Luna blinked up at him, dazed, before she let out a soft laugh. “I could never top your speech earlier,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Jeonghan smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, that’s because I’m always the best.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the amused smile on her lips. “You always want to be the best at everything,” she teased.

Jeonghan shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging up mischievously. “Of course. But you know what’s gonna make me the absolute bestest?”

Luna raised a brow, humoring him. “What?”

Jeonghan grinned, leaning in just slightly, his voice dropping to a casual, almost teasing whisper. “I’ve had that ring for two years now.”

Luna froze.

And then, her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock as tears instantly welled up again. “What the fuck?!” she choked out, smacking his arm.

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing— really laughing, the kind that made his shoulders shake, his entire body leaning into hers as if he couldn’t contain the joy bubbling up inside him.

Still grinning, he pulled her back in, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Jeonghan pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tilted his head slightly. “What do you say we head back and tell the guys?” he asked, his grin stretching wider, playful and smug all at once.

Luna caught onto his energy instantly, her own lips curling into a matching smirk. This was going to be fun. “Let’s.”

With that, they pushed themselves up from the ground, brushing off the bits of grass and dirt from their clothes. Jeonghan, ever the perfectionist when it came to appearances, ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the strands with a practiced ease before reaching out to Luna, lacing his fingers through hers like it was second nature. She squeezed his hand once, their matching grins never fading as they made their way back to the hotel.

The air between them crackled with a quiet excitement, their steps falling in sync as they navigated the familiar hallways of their temporary home. The elevator ride was silent, but the weight of what they were about to do was tangible in the way Jeonghan lightly swung their joined hands between them, a silent rhythm of anticipation.

And soon enough, they were standing in front of the door to the main suite, where all the other members—except for Jun, who was still in China for his acting project— were already gathered for dinner.

The chatter from inside was unmistakable, a blend of laughter, overlapping voices, and the occasional clatter of dishes as they settled into their usual chaotic routine.

Jeonghan didn’t bother knocking. Instead, he simply turned the handle and stepped in with Luna beside him, both of them still holding hands, still wearing those telltale grins.

The second they walked in, their presence was acknowledged immediately. A wave of greetings crashed over them as their arrival was met with the warm familiarity of their members’ voices.

“You’re finally here!” Seungkwan announced first, setting down his drink as he leaned back against the couch.

“Now we’re complete,” Joshua added, smiling up at them from his spot near the table.

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol offered casually, nodding toward the empty spaces that had clearly been left for them.

“Food’s arriving soon,” Hoshi informed them, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, as if he’d been thinking about it all day.

But it was Wonwoo, ever the observant one, who tilted his head and asked, “Where have you two been?”

Before either of them could respond, another voice cut through the room— one that wasn’t physically present, but still familiar to all of them.

“You guys finally made it, huh?” Jun’s voice rang from the phone screen, which Minghao was holding up, his face filling the frame of the FaceTime call.

Jeonghan and Luna both paused at the sight, exchanging brief glances.

It was as if the universe had conspired to ensure every single member was here for this moment, even the one who was miles away.

Luna let go of Jeonghan’s hand just long enough to wave at the screen, her expression softening as she greeted the missing member. “Junnie! I miss you.”

Jun’s lips curled into a grin. “Miss you too. You guys took your time getting here. What, were you out on some top-secret mission?”

Jeonghan chuckled, his free hand slipping into his pocket while his other stayed comfortably around Luna’s. “Something like that.”

There was an ease to the way they all spoke, a natural flow to their banter that came from years of knowing each other inside and out. The room buzzed with their usual energy, the kind that could only come from a group as close as them. Seungkwan was already side-eyeing them suspiciously, while Vernon leaned back in his chair, observing with mild interest.

Meanwhile, Luna subtly kept her left hand tucked beneath the table, out of sight, as she and Jeonghan settled into their seats next to each other. Their matching smirks remained firmly in place.

Something told them this was going to be fun.

The moment Jeonghan and Luna settled into their seats, their hands still intertwined beneath the table, Jeonghan gave her a knowing look.

It was a silent exchange, one they had mastered over the years— a smirk that said, Go on, have your fun.

Jeonghan, ever the picture of nonchalance, reached for the wine bottle in front of him and leisurely poured himself a glass, completely unbothered as he swirled the deep red liquid in his glass.

Meanwhile, Luna, fully relishing in the moment, reached for the fork in front of her. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she tapped it against the rim of her wine glass a couple of times, the delicate ting, ting, ting slicing through the casual chatter like a bell demanding attention.

The room quieted almost instantly.

Thirteen pairs of eyes turned toward her, some mid-bite, others mid-conversation, all now fully focused on whatever she had to say.

“Okay, since we’re all here together—” Luna began, drawing out her words just a little, watching as curiosity flickered across their faces. “I’m going to make this quick because I am hungry.”

There were a few snorts of laughter at that, because of course she was. But they still listened.

“I need your opinion on something.”

The shift in her tone, from playful to serious, made the members exchange wary glances. Even Seungcheol, who had been comfortably leaning against the couch, straightened a little at her words.

“What is it?” Joshua asked first, tilting his head.

“Is this a trick question?” Vernon muttered, glancing at Jeonghan, who had yet to say a word but was now smirking behind his wine glass.

“Should we be nervous?” Dokyeom added, already glancing at Hoshi, who was nodding like he agreed.

Regardless of their suspicions, they all nodded, signaling for her to continue.

Luna let the silence stretch for just a beat longer, making sure she had all their attention before she finally moved.

“What do you guys think of this?”

She lifted her right hand, wrist tilted just so, allowing the light to catch on the diamond tennis bracelet adorning it.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Their eyes darted from her face to the bracelet, then back to her, as if waiting for the punchline.

Then,

“Are you serious?” Woozi voice came lazily, but the mirth in it was unmistakable.

“Jiyeon-ah.” Seungcheol sighed, exasperated, before shaking his head.

“I thought you were about to tell us something crazy.” Mingyu placed a hand on his chest, as if steadying his heartbeat.

“Noona, you scared me!” Seungkwan scolded, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“I mean, it’s nice—” Dino chimed in, leaning in for a better look. “—but why did you make it sound so serious?”

“It is serious.” Luna countered smoothly, her lips twitching.

“It’s pretty.” Wonwoo nodded in approval, before suddenly pausing, eyes narrowing as his sharp gaze flickered between Luna and Jeonghan. “Wait a second… Jeonghannie has the same one.”

All heads turned to Jeonghan, whose wrist now rested lazily against the armrest of his chair, the identical bracelet peeking from beneath his sleeve.

Jeonghan merely smirked. “Matching, aren’t they?”

“Okay, that’s cute.” Joshua admitted, nodding in approval.

“Of course you guys have matching jewelry.” Minghao muttered, unimpressed but not at all surprised.

“It’s giving ‘power couple.’” Seungkwan commented dryly, but there was amusement in his voice.

“You two are so extra.” Seungcheol groaned, though he was grinning.

“I still feel like you’re messing with us.” Dino squinted at them both, pointing an accusatory finger. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Luna, still enjoying every second of this, simply held up a hand, effectively silencing them. “Guys, last one.”

The members eyed her with suspicion this time.

After the first stunt, they were expecting another bracelet. A pair of earrings. Maybe a necklace. Perhaps she’d even lift her foot up onto the table to show off a new pair of shoes.

But no.

Slowly, deliberately, Luna lifted her left hand.

The diamond ring on her ring finger glistened under the warm glow of the suite’s lighting.

Unmistakable.

“What do you guys think of this?” she asked, her voice sweet, matching the grin on Jeonghan’s face as he took a slow sip of his wine.

And then—

Chaos.

Absolute, unfiltered pandemonium.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!??”

“WHAT?!”

“NO. NO. WAIT.”

“YOU’RE LYING.”

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

“YOON JEONGHAN, YOU DID NOT—”

“FUCKING FINALLY!!!”

Screams erupted from every corner of the room. Chairs scraped against the floor as members shot up from their seats, some tripping over themselves in their rush toward the newly engaged couple.

Dokyeom was jumping up and down, practically vibrating with excitement.

Seungkwan had his hands over his mouth, eyes already welling with tears as he took a shaky breath. “No. No way. Oh my god—”

Joshua had stood up, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair as he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Finally.”

Mingyu was pointing at them, looking between Jeonghan and Luna as if trying to process reality. “You guys— this isn’t a joke?”

“Nope.” Jeonghan answered, popping the ‘p’ casually.

Minghao, who had been relatively calm until now, exhaled sharply before breaking into a slow, knowing smile. “I can’t believe it.”

Meanwhile, Dino had his hands on his head, pacing back and forth. “Hyung, you proposed?!”

“Of course, I did.” Jeonghan answered smoothly, finally setting his wine down.

Before either he or Luna could react, a wave of bodies crashed into them. The younger members rushed to Luna first, engulfing her in a series of tight hugs, their words overlapping—

“Noona, congratulations!”

“You’re engaged?! Don’t leave us.”

“So cool.”

Meanwhile, Jeonghan was being aggressively patted on the back by Seungcheol, Woozi, and Wonwoo, their congratulations a mix of excitement and “you little shit, you actually did it.”

“You sneaky bastard.” Seungcheol muttered, shaking his head but unable to hide his proud grin.

“I’m so happy for you, man.” Woozi clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Damn, after two years of you hesitating,” Wonwoo whistled.

And then, as if finally comprehending reality, Hoshi burst into tears. “OUR JEONGHANNIE HYUNG AND JIYEONIE ARE GETTING MARRIED!”

That set off another round of chaos— Dokyeom pretending to cry along with him, Seungkwan dramatically falling to his knees, Vernon recording the entire thing, Minghao shaking his head fondly, and Jun, still on FaceTime, yelling from the phone, “JIYEON, YOU BITCH! I AM FLYING MY ASS THERE TO CELEBRATE! THE FUCK!”

Through all the noise, Jeonghan turned to Luna, their eyes meeting amidst the joyful mayhem. His smirk softened into something warmer, something undeniably fond.

Luna, still laughing as Dino and Seungkwan clung to her, tilted her head at her fiancé, her own gaze filled with nothing but love.

This was only the beginning.

Because it started with a yes.

A simple, quiet yes whispered against the Berlin night, sealed with a kiss beneath the moonlight.

And now, it echoed in the laughter filling the room, in the joyful chaos of their friends, in the way Jeonghan’s hand instinctively sought Luna’s beneath the table, fingers lacing together like they always had.

It started with a yes, and now it was here— loud, undeniable, unshakable.

A forever, a love written in stolen glances, matching bracelets, and many promises, in the weight of a diamond ring and the warmth of a knowing smile.

It started with a yes.

And it would never end.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @zhqvie @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque @reignofraine @kpoplover-19 @star2013 @frankenstein852 @axleighkaize @jmkookie01 @shhh94 @gigglensnort @stupendouscookiehumanmug

338 notes · View notes