Stargirl

The rain is drumming a steady, mindless rhythm against your bedroom window, the kind of white noise that usually puts you straight to sleep. Tonight, though, you’re wide awake, propped up against a mountain of pillows with a half empty bag of sour gummies balanced on your stomach.

At the foot of your bed, completely taking up all the legroom, is Ryul.

He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and a faded t-shirt that stretches tightly across his shoulders when he shifts. Right now, he’s aggressively tossing a small plush pillow into the air and catching it with one hand, his eyes glued to the TV screen where some low budget horror movie is playing on mute.

"I'm telling you, if she goes into the basement, I’m turning this off," Ryul mutters, his voice carrying that low, edge it always gets when it’s past midnight. He catches the pillow without looking, his fingers sinking into the fabric.

"Oh shut up, Ryul," you laugh, nudging his thigh with your foot. "You cried during the trailer. Don’t act tough now."

Ryul scoffs, turning his head to look at you. The dim glow of the television catches the sharp line of his jaw and the soft, dark mess of his hair. A lazy, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I did not cry. I had a hair in my eye. There's a difference."

"Right. A very emotional hair."

He rolls his eyes, but the smile stays, warm and familiar. It’s the same look he’s given you for years. The one that used to just mean we’re idiots, but lately, has started making your chest feel tight. You try to blame it on the two mixed drinks you both knocked back an hour ago, or the suffocating humidity of the summer night, but you know better.

The truth is, the air between you two has been changing. It’s heavy. It’s the way his eyes linger on your mouth a second too long when you laugh, or how his hand always finds the small of your back whenever he guides you through a crowded room.

You’re both so hopelessly into each other it’s practically pathetic, a mutual, unspoken longing that neither of you has had the guts to voice. So instead, you play the roles of perfect best friends, ignoring the way the tension thickens every time your skin accidentally brushes his.

Ryul tosses the plush pillow aside, suddenly sitting up and crossing his legs. He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning in closer to you. The sudden shift in proximity makes your pulse hitch.

"I'm bored," he announces, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "The movie sucks, you're making fun of my fake tears, and I’m too wired to sleep."

"Well, what do you want to do then?" you ask, tilting your head.

Ryul's gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. A mischievous, slightly smug glint flashes in his eyes. "Let's play a game."

"Like what?"

"Truth or Dare," he says, a low chuckle escaping him. He reaches over, his fingers lightly brushing against your ankle as he moves, sending a sharp jolt of adrenaline straight up your spine. "No backing out, no chickening. Just honesty. You down?"

You swallow hard, your heart suddenly hammering against your ribs. Looking at the intensity in his face, you get the distinct feeling that this game is going to cause some serious problems.

"Fine," you challenge softly, holding his gaze. "You go first."

Ryul chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates right through the mattress. He leans back on his hands, tilting his head as he studies you, his dark eyes narrowed in playful calculation.

"Alright, let's start easy," he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," you say instantly, keeping your defensive walls up.

"Weak," he teases, rolling his eyes. "But fine. What's the biggest lie you've told me this month?"

You snort, leaning back against your pillows. "Easy. I told you your new haircut looked fine the day you got it. It actually looked like a bird tried to build a nest in it for the first twenty four hours."

Ryul gasps, throwing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Remind me never to trust your compliments again.”

"My turn," you say, your voice dropping a fraction. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Ryul says, his eyes locked onto yours. He doesn't blink.

You lean forward, resting your chin in your hands. "Have you ever actually read any of those romance books you found on my nightstand, or were you just pretending to judge me?"

Ryul’s smirk fades into something a little more private, a little more intense. He holds your gaze, his voice dropping an octave. "I read a few chapters of one. The one with the dog eared pages." He pauses, his eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back up. "I wanted to see what kind of things make you lose it."

The sudden shift in his tone catches you completely off guard. Your throat goes dry, your heart doing a sudden, violent flip. He's testing the waters. He’s pushing the line that you’ve both spent months pretending didn't exist.

"Your turn," Ryul murmurs, his gaze heavy as he shifts closer, his knee now firmly pressed against your thigh. The heat radiating off him is suffocating. "Truth or dare?"

You catch your breath, refusing to let him win this little game. "Dare," you challenge, your voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking in your veins.

Ryul’s eyes darken. A slow, predatory smile creeps onto his face. "I dare you to sit on my lap for the next three rounds."

Your heart hammers against your ribs. You swallow the lump in your throat, holding his gaze as you slowly crawl over the space separating you, your movements deliberate, keeping your eyes locked onto his the entire time.

When you settle onto his lap, straddling his thighs, you hear his breath hitch. You can feel the rigid tension in his muscles, the way his hands twitch against the mattress like he's fighting the urge to grab your waist.

You lean in close, your face inches from his, mimicking his earlier posture. You can smell the clean, sharp scent of his cologne mixed with the faint sweetness of the drinks.

"Truth or dare, Ryul," you whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips in a deliberate, agonizingly slow tease.

You think you’ve won. You think you’ve caught him off guard.

But Ryul just stares up at you, his pupils completely blown, the easygoing best friend completely vanishing from his expression.

He doesn't break. Instead, his jaw tightens, and before you can even register the shift, his large hands come up, wrapping firmly around your hips. He grips you tight, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, and effortlessly hauls you a fraction of an inch closer until there is absolutely no space left between your bodies. You can feel the hard, pulsing heat of him pressing right against you.

"Truth," he rasps out, his voice thick, entirely stripped of its usual playfulness. He tilts his head up, his breath hot against your lips, completely commanding the space. He tilts your hips just a fraction, a subtle, pressured movement that forces a soft gasp from your throat.

His grip on your waist tightens, pinning you in place, making it entirely clear who is in control of this game now.

"Ask me your question," Ryul murmurs, his dark eyes burning into yours, completely undone. "But choose your words very carefully."

The air in the room is suddenly so thick you can barely breathe it in. Every ounce of playfulness is stripped away, replaced by a heavy, suffocating weight that has been building between you for years.

Ryul doesn't let go of your hips. If anything, his fingers dig deeper into your skin, anchoring you to him as if he's terrified you'll pull away, or as if he’s entirely lost the capacity to let you go. The heat rolling off his body is suffocating, making you dizzy as you sit stranded over his thighs.

"You're not asking," Ryul says, his voice dropping to a rough, ragged whisper that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine. He leans in closer, his chest pressing hard against yours, forcing your back to arch slightly. "What's the matter? Forgot the question?"

"Ryul—" Your voice breaks, a tiny, breathless sound that betrays exactly how undone you are.

Hearing his name on your lips makes something click behind his eyes. The last thread of his restraint completely snaps.

He lets out a low, guttural growl, his grip shifting from your hips to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up just enough to pull you flush against him. The friction of the movement makes your breath catch in a sharp gasp.

Ryul tilts his chin up, his eyes fixed entirely on your mouth, completely gone by the sight of you looking so helpless beneath his gaze.

"Screw the game," he mutters, his breath hot against your skin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply. His lips brush against your pulse point, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins.

"I'm sick of pretending. I'm so fucked up for you, it’s driving me insane."

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers instantly tangling in the soft, messy strands of his hair, pulling him closer.

The sheer desperation in his voice triggers something wild inside you. You lean back just enough to look at him, your chests heaving in sync.

Ryul’s eyes are completely dark, filled with a raw, predatory hunger you’ve never seen in him before. His hand slides up your torso, his large palm burning through your shirt as he grips your jaw.

"If I kiss you right now," he breathes, his thumb pressing firmly against your bottom lip, dragging it down just a fraction, "I'm not stopping. Tell me to stop now, or I swear—"

You don't let him finish. You lean down, closing the distance, and press your lips to his.

The collision is explosive. Ryul lets out a sharp, ragged breath into your mouth, his hand immediately moving from your jaw to the back of your head, fistfuls of your hair anchoring you to him as he deepens the kiss with an intense, desperate urgency. It’s rough, uncoordinated, and utterly perfect driven by years of suppressed longing.

He tastes like the sweet liquor you drank earlier, but the heat of his mouth is entirely his own. He devours your lips, his tongue sliding past yours in a frantic rhythm that leaves you completely breathless, whimpering softly into his mouth.

The sound only seems to make him wilder. His other hand tears at the hem of your shirt, his rough palms making direct contact with the bare skin of your waist, sending waves of intense heat crashing through you as he pulls you closer, desperate to eliminate every single inch of remaining space between you.

Ryul pulls back just an inch, his lips wet and swollen, his chest heaving violently against yours. His eyes are entirely filled with a wild, feral intensity as he stares up at you. He looks completely unhinged, caught in the grip of a hunger that has been rotting away at him for years.

"Your shirt," he pants out, his voice a ruined, gravelly rasp against your mouth. "Take it off."

You don't even have time to move before his hands are under the fabric, bunching it up and hauling it over your head in one violent, impatient motion. The material catches slightly on your arms, and you hear a sharp rip along the seam as he literally tears it away from your body, tossing it blindly over the edge of the bed.

The cool air of the bedroom hits your bare skin for a split second before Ryul replaces it with the scorching heat of his own body.

He hovers over you, his eyes scanning every inch of your exposed skin with a terrifyingly hungry gaze. His jaw is clenched so tight a muscle leaps in his cheek.

"You have no idea," he rasps, his large hands coming down to pin your wrists to the mattress on either side of your head. His grip is like iron, completely restricting your movement. "No idea what you do to me. I've sat on this exact bed for months watching you, wanting to do this, wanting to ruin you until you couldn't think of anyone else."

He leans down, burying his face in your chest, his mouth devouring the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He bites down, not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to force a loud, high pitched whimper from your throat. He sucks firmly on the mark, his tongue soothing the sting in a slow, torturous rhythm that makes your hips instinctively roll up against his.

The friction makes Ryul let out a sharp, choked sound. He breaks away from your neck, his eyes snapping to yours, completely broken by the contact.

"Don't move like that unless you want this over in two seconds. I've been waiting too damn long to rush this." he warns, his voice shaking with a dangerous level of restraint.

With one hand now pinning both of your wrists above your head, he uses his free hand to reach down, his fingers gripping the waistband of your shorts. Dragging them down your legs along with your underwear, exposing you completely to his heavy, burning gaze.

The vulnerability makes you shiver, your knees instinctively trying to close, but Ryul immediately wedges his thigh between yours. He forces your legs wide apart, his large hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, his rough palm sending waves of electric heat crashing straight to your core.

"Look at me," Ryul commands, his voice dropping to a dark, breathless whisper as his fingers brush against the aching, damp center of you. You gasp, your back arching off the bed, but his hand on your wrists keeps you pinned. He stares directly into your eyes as he slips one long finger inside you, testing how ruined you already are for him. "Let me see exactly how much you want this."

Ryul lets out a dark, approving hum as his finger slides deep inside you, the slick friction of the movement drawing a broken cry from your lips. He doesn’t wait, immediately adding a second finger, stretching you open with a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes your mind go completely blank.

"You’re so wet for me," he pants, his thumb pressing firmly against your sensitive core, rubbing in tight, agonizing circles. "You've been thinking about this too, haven't you?"

You can only nod frantically, your hips rolling upward, desperately seeking more of the blistering friction. Your pinned wrists twitch against his iron grip, wanting nothing more than to wrap around his neck and pull him down.

"Please, Ryul..." you whimpered, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

"Please what?" he says, his pace quickening, his fingers turning you completely inside out. He leans down, his face inches from yours, his breath dragging heavily across your lips. "Tell me what you want."

"You. I want you."

Ryul’s jaw tightens, a sudden, fierce flash of possessiveness taking over his features. He abruptly withdraws his fingers, leaving you cold and aching, but before you can even protest, he’s unbuttoning his pants. He kicks them off along with his boxers, and when he moves back over you, the sheer size and heavy, throbbing heat of him pressing against your thigh makes your breath hitch.

He grabs your knees, pushing them all the way up toward your chest, completely opening you up, exposing you to his dark, unblinking gaze. He settles his weight between your thighs, the broad head of his length catching against your wetness.

"Look at me," he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. He reaches up, his large hand wrapping securely around your throat—not cutting off your air, but grounding you, pinning you to the mattress beneath his palm. "Keep your eyes on me."

You look up at him, your chest heaving, completely consumed by the feral, ravenous intensity in his eyes.

With one heavy, unyielding thrust, Ryul drives himself all the way inside you.

The sudden, stretching fullness forces a loud, high pitched gasp from your throat. He buries himself to the absolute hilt, his hips slamming hard against yours, the sheer impact sending a violent shockwave of pure desire straight to your core. Ryul freezes for a fraction of a second, his entire body rigid, his eyes blowing wide as he absorbs the tight squeeze of your walls.

A ragged, pained groan rips from his chest. “God, you're so tight," he chokes out, his fingers tightening slightly against your neck as he begins to move.

He doesn’t ease into it. Driven by years of agonizing restraint, Ryul begins to pound into you with a relentless pace. Every thrust is deep, hard, and punishing, his hips meeting yours with a wet, heavy slap that echoes in the quiet room. He completely dominates your body, the angle of his thrusts hitting your sweetest spot over and over until you’re sobbing his name into the space between your mouths.

Ryul lets out a harsh, broken breath against your ear, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as the friction between your bodies reaches a scorching breaking point. His entire body is slick with sweat, his muscles locked tight under the strain of trying—and failing—to hold himself back.

"Ryul, please," you sob out, your hands desperately clawing at his broad shoulders, your hips instinctively rising to meet every heavy, punishing thrust.

The sound of his name on your lips completely ruins him. He lets out a low groan, his grip on your waist tightening until his fingers dig deeply into your skin, pinning you flat against the mattress. He changes the angle, his hips slamming into yours with a sudden, devastatingly deep rhythm that makes your vision go completely spotty. You are entirely at his mercy, completely consumed by the sheer power of his body moving against yours.

"I can't—" Ryul gasps out, his teeth brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he bites down softly, his breath hitching violently. "I'm gonna cum. I can't hold it."

He doesn't give you a chance to answer. With one final, devastatingly hard thrust that buries him to the absolute hilt, Ryul stiffens completely. A ragged, animalistic sound rips from the back of his throat as his body shudders violently over yours, filling you completely with his thick release.

The intense sensation triggers your own arousal, your walls squeezing tightly around him in a series of helpless, overlapping spasms that leave you completely undone, crying out into the quiet room.

Ryul collapses against your chest, his heavy weight a comforting, suffocating presence as you both try to catch your breath.

His heart is hammering wildly against your ribs, his breath hot and ragged against your collarbone. He doesn't move away, keeping himself buried deep inside you as his hands slowly move up to cup your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears at the corners of your eyes.

The bedroom is completely quiet now, save for the sound of your overlapping, shallow breaths and the distant rhythm of the rain still tapping against the window.

Ryul doesn't move for a long time. He remains draped heavily over you, his forehead resting against the crook of your neck as his chest slowly expands and contracts against yours. The sheer intensity of what just happened hangs thick in the humid air, turning the initial wild adrenaline into a warm, heavy, and deeply intimate haze.

Slowly, Ryul shifts his weight, sliding out from inside you with a soft, quiet gasp escaping his lips. The sudden absence leaves you feeling cold, but he doesn't let the space last. He immediately pulls you against his side, wrapping one large arm around your waist and dragging you flush against his chest.

Your back is pressed to his front, his chin resting right on top of your head. His skin is still radiating an intense, comforting heat, and his heart is still drumming a frantic rhythm against your shoulder blades. His fingers lightly trace lazy, mindless circles across the bare skin of your stomach, his rough touch sending faint, lingering ripples of pleasure straight to your core.

"Hey," he whispers after a long silence, his voice incredibly low, vibrating right through your back. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction. "You okay?"

You nod against his chest, your fingers reaching down to interlace with his. "Yeah. More than okay."

Ryul lets out a breathy, quiet chuckle, his thumb rubbing comforting strokes over the back of your hand. The tension that had been rotting away at your friendship for months is completely gone, replaced by a deep, undeniable intimacy.

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes half-closed as he inhales the scent of your hair. "Because I'm not going back to how things were before tonight.”

The easy, uncomplicated safety of a platonic friendship had vanished the exact moment the game started, fully shattered by the sheer weight of what had been hidden beneath the surface for so long.

There was no going back to mindless late night hangouts, no pretending that the space between you was just empty air, and no putting the carefully built walls back up. Everything had been rewritten in the span of a single night.

As the quiet settled deeper into the room, the reality of it became entirely clear. The familiar dynamic you had protected for years was gone, completely consumed by the realization that you could never look at each other the same way again.

you're currently sitting in one of the most grand and luxurious ballrooms in the city. tonight is supposed to be something neutral - a friendly ceremony. one of those where every major family in the underworld pretended civility for a few hours before going back to fortresses to plan their next betrayals.

the jeon family is occupying the left side of tables, whereas your family is occupying the right - as far away from each other as possible. your father is standing near the bar, looking every bit the rich, powerful and dangerous mafia, he is, while glaring at his rival - the head of the jeon family, jungkook's father. who, in return, stares back at him with the same cold, hateful look.

they hate each other so much. if there's a feeling stronger than that, then that is exactly what they feel for each other.

your eyes continue to roam around the room until they find jungkook. he's leaning against a pillar near his family's side, looking so fuckable in that tailored suit he's wearing, with the first few buttons left open, giving you a glimpse of his chest and the ink on his shoulder. his hair is a bit longer than the last time you ran your fingers through it, which you're thankful for because it looks even better than it usually does. 

he looks bored until his eyes find yours. you hate how your heart stutters at the eye contact. it's been three weeks since he last had you pinned against his office desk, three weeks since he had you whimpering beneath him, three weeks since he fucked the living daylights out of you.

you tear your gaze away first, accepting champagne from one of the servers who happens to be too scared to even meet your eyes. every few minutes you would catch him staring holes into you, eyeing you. you knew that he'd be here drinking you in and that's exactly why you've decided to wear an elegant gown that's just a little revealing - cut low at the back with a slit running up your thigh. easy access.

after a few minutes of sitting, you decide it's time to slip away for a little while. you excuse yourself and no one questions it. heirs disappear all the time, whether it's to powder their noses, make discreet calls or converse with family allies, so it's a normal thing to do without getting suspicions.

you walk through the crowd until you reach the long corridor that leads to the private restrooms, inside the women's restroom is pristine and polished. there's a massive mirror stretched across the wall above the vanity. you set your bag down and study your reflection. you look perfect, but still, you tuck a small strand of hair behind your ear and adjust your hair - not because you need to, but because you know that he'll be here soon.

and right on cue, the door opens slowly, closes once he's inside and locks. instead of turning to face him, you watch him in the mirror. he leans against the wall with his arms crossed and head tilted, watching you watch yourself.

"still primping?" his voice is rough and a little mocking. "thought you'd at least pretend that you weren't waiting for me."

you roll your eyes at him. "thought you'd at least pretend that you aren't desperate enough to follow me into the bathroom like some horny teenager."

he huffs out a laugh. "three weeks is a long time, princess."

"don't call me that."

"why not?" he pushes off the wall and approaches you slowly. "you know you love it when i call you that."

"i love a lot of things you do with your mouth. talking isn't one of them."

he stops directly behind you, his hands settling on the vanity on either side of you, caging you in without touching you. his scent fills your lungs, something that isn't too strong, but still expensive, that signature smell of his that's grown to give you some kind of comfort you're unable to explain.

"look at you," he murmurs. "all dressed up, standing there and trying to convince yourself you hate me."

"i do hate you."

"yeah?" his lips brush your earlobe. "then why're you shaking? nervous?"

you scoff before speaking. "because i'm imagining all the ways i can kill you."

he chuckles against your skin. "liar."

your breath hitches when you feel one of his hands sliding up one of your thighs, under the slit of your dress, until he finds your core and cups it over your underwear. his palm rests there, making you suck in a breath.

"i missed you," he says quietly,

your eyes snap to his in the mirror. he doesn't have that cocky look on his face. his eyes roam your body with that hunger that makes you feel weak.

"three weeks," he repeats. "way too fucking long."

his lips find the side of your neck.

"don't." you warn.

"don't what?" he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. "don't tell you the truth? or don't do this?"

"both." you breathe out.

"too late," 

his other hand goes up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging it back so your head is leaning on his shoulder. in the mirror you watch your reflection, noticing how your lips part and eyes darken.

"look at us," he rasps against your throat. "look how fucking perfect you look with my hands on you."

you try to glare at him, but unfortunately your eyes look more pleading than anything.

"shut up, jeon."

"why don't you make me?"

you gasp in his mouth when he suddenly kisses you roughly and passionately, showing you just how much he's been needing this the past few weeks. you arch back into him without thinking, your ass pressing against his cock through his slacks, making him groan into your mouth.

your hands thread through his hair, angling his head where you want him so you can lick deep into his mouth. he groans again, and rewards you by cupping your core harder, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit causing your hips to buck forward.

"fuck," you gasp into his mouth.

he swallows the sound and kisses you harder while his fingers slip into your underwear. two of them caress your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your clit the way you like. he starts off slow at first then picks up the pace, going faster. you can't help the needy moan that slips out of you and the way your pussy clenches around him.

he breaks the kiss to murmur against your lips. "so wet already. been dreaming about this pussy for three weeks straight.

"oh, shut up," you hiss.

he pushes two fingers inside you until they're knuckles deep. your eyes flutter closed as you let out soft moans of pleasure that become more audible when he starts pumping his fingers inside you deeper. you meet the thrusts of his fingers shamelessly.

"how nice that you're clenching around my fingers in a bathroom while our families are a couple feet away plotting each other's deaths."

again, you try to glare at him but miserably fail when he curls his fingers inside you.

"jeon-"

he pulls his fingers out of you and your eyes open widely at the loss. you whip your head around to glare at him properly now. he just smirks down at you, looking all cocky again. that sight makes you want to slap him and ride him at the same time. 

without breaking eye contact with you, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your arousal off his fingers. his tongue swirling around each of them slowly. you stare at him. he's so filthy and you love it.

"asshole," you say.

he ignores your rude comment and spins you back around so fast your hands slap down onto the vanity to steady yourself. you're facing the mirror fully now with him behind you. his eyes locked on yours in the reflection again. he doesn't say anything, he reaches down and unbuckles his belt, opens the buttons of his slacks then pulls down the zipper.

you watch every single thing he does in the mirror. watching as he pulls his pants and boxers down halfway. watching as his hard length springs free. your mouth goes dry (even as you mentally salivate at the sight). he wraps a hand around himself, giving himself a few strokes, from the base up to the tip, spreading his precum with his thumb. he reaches down between your legs again, collects more of your arousal and uses it as lubrication on himself as he keeps stroking his cock. you clench around nothing just watching until he stops touching himself.

with one hand he reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up over your hips, bunching it at your hips. the other hand he uses to pull your underwear down, so it pools at your ankles. the cool air hitting your soaked core and the anticipation make you tremble a little. jungkook groans at the sight of you like this -trembling, your ass bare and pussy glistening.

"so fucking pretty." he mutters mostly to himself.

after admiring you for a few more seconds his fingers are on you again rubbing your clit until you twitch and chase the pressure for a short while before he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth again, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

"you're disgusting." you whisper.

he leans over so his chest presses against your back and talks near your ear.

"don't act like you don't love it."

you want to say something to argue, but he's right. very much right.

he lines himself at your entrance, sliding his tip inside and pulling out, teasing you (and himself)

"jungkook–"

"tell me you want me." he says.

you bite your lip when he sinks in a little deeper, stretching you open.

"say it, princess."

"fuck you." you hiss.

he lets out a little disbelieved scoff. but pushes in slowly, filling you with his large length until he's all the way in, buried to the brim with his hips flush against your ass. you both freeze, eyes locked in the mirror. both of you looking wrecked. jungkook flexes inside of you causing you to whimper. he stays there buried inside you, not moving, just giving you a stern look.

you put your pride aside and whisper, "i want you, jungkook."

"good girl." he murmurs.

he pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. again and again. his thrusting in and out of you drives you insane. your palms slide against the vanity, fingers curling, wishing you could grip on something instead.

"faster," you demand with a sweet gasp.

he leans down, speaking near your ear. "beg for me."

you lift your head to glare at his reflection. "fuck. you."

he grins, knowing his luck wasn't going to work. he gives you what you want. he increases his pace, fucking you with a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the entire time you try your best not to look away from him. you want to watch him fuck and mark you.

his free hand slides up your back pushing it down so you're arching beautifully, giving him a better and deeper angle. your moans and his groans grow louder as the pleasure builds for both of you.

"you feel too good," he pants. "so tight and wet. you've really been waiting for me, hmm?"

"i wasn't." you lie as your walls flutter around him.

"liar." he growls and punctuates it with a hard thrust.

you cry out from pleasure and a little bit of pain. one of his hands slide down to find your clit, rubbing it circles that match his brutal thrusts.

"jungkook- fuck. don't stop."

"i won't," he says through gritted teeth. "not until you're coming all over my cock."

you whimper and clench hard around him. the sensation causes him to groan loudly.

"f-fuck," he grunts.

you do it again. your walls clamp down on him hard making his thrusts stutter. his hips slam forward one last time, buried in completely before he halts his movements.

"stop," he grits out. "stop clenching me like that, you're gonna make me come too fast."

you let out a breathless, mocking laugh before speaking. "poor baby. can't handle it?"

after registering your words, his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your ass. the sting is delicious and causes you to involuntarily flutter around him again.

"brat," he hisses. "if you want me to fuck you properly then behave."

you force yourself to relax, trying to loosen your muscles even though your body is screaming to pull him deeper, to keep him there inside you where he belongs.

the second you unclench around him, he rewards you but pulling all the way out and slamming back in with a force that has your eyes rolling back.

he sets a perfect pace that makes it impossible for you to stay quiet as much as you can try. sweet loud moans and profanities leave your mouth that is definitely audible to anyone outside; "jungkook– oh God–yes right there! – fuck–"

he curses under his breath before placing his palm over your mouth, muffling your loud, inappropriate sounds before you attract any attention.

"shh. you wanna get us caught? want your father kicking down the door while i'm balls deep in his little princess?"

the image of that terrifies you. it would be an abomination if something like that ever happened. your father has been very vocal about his pure hatred for the jeons, including the one currently giving you one of the best fucks of your life. but still jungkook always feel too good for you to control yourself, so unfortunately you cannot help the whiny, muffled moan that slips out of you.

"fuck's sake."

he slides two fingers past your lips, pushing them deep in your mouth until they hit the back of your tongue.

"suck." he orders. "keep that pretty mouth busy."

you obey without hesitation. wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue the same way you'd done to his cock more times that you could count. thinking of the blowjobs you've given him makes you hum around his fingers, eager to feel him in your mouth again.

"that's it." he rasps. "prettiest sounds i've ever heard."

you whimper around his fingers. his thrusts get harder and deeper, making your toes curl. 

after a few minutes, your pussy starts fluttering around him causing his breath to hitch.

"there it is," he groans and picks up the pace even more. "love when you do that. when your greedy little cunt starts begging for it."

you try to speak, try to beg, but his fingers are still deep in your mouth so all that comes is a desperate, garbled whine.

"come with me. let me feel you." he orders.

after the last thrust, you release with a muffled sob of his name. your pussy spasms and milks him so hard he swears violently under his breath. he follows you right after, burying himself as deep as possible and releases inside you until you feel it leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs. his hand goes up to cup your jaw gently, tilting your face so he can leave a soft kiss on your temple before carefully pulling out. you whimper at the loss, he watches himself leaving you as your combined release drips.

"fuck, that's so hot."

you shake your head despite the heat warming up your cheeks at his words. "we have to get cleaned up, jeon. we've got something to get back to."

he reaches for one of the thick towels from the stack on the counter and wets it under the tap. he kneels behind you. the sight of jeon jungkook on his knees in a tailored suit is definitely something out of your wettest dreams.

he cleans you up, wiping between your thighs. he's so gentle it  surprises you, because some seconds ago he was fucking you like he hated you. once most of the evidence is gone, he looks up at you and leaves the softest kiss to the back of your thigh before standing up again.

"don't get used the princess treatment, yeah?" he murmurs, tossing the towel in the bin. "next time i'm leaving you dripping down your legs."

you roll your eyes at him for the one millionth time. "next time you'll be lucky if i let you touch me at all."

"sure."

he turns his attention to your messy appearance. your dress is a bit creased and still bunched up at your waist. your hair looks - well it looks like you've been thoroughly fucked, which of course you were. your lipstick is smudged and your mascara smeared under your eyes. he steps in close and starts fixing you. neatening your dress, adjusting your dress's straps with his fingertips mistakenly grazing over your breasts.

"careful." you warn.

he hums amused and then moves to your hair, combing it with his fingers and brushing a stray strand behind your ear in a way that seems way too tender for people who are supposed to be enemies.

"there," he says quietly, stepping back to survey his work. "you look almost respectable again."

you turn to face him now. he looks delicious. his hair falls into his eyes, lips swollen from your kisses, his collar wrinkled and he's a little sweaty. he looks like he deserves the best and sloppiest head in the world.

you reach up without thinking, straighten his collar and smooth his shirt. before you can pull away, he catches your wrist and holds it there, near his chest.

"why're you looking at me like that, hmm?" he asks, staring down at you.

"like what?"

"like you want me to take you again. i will if you want me to."

you yank your hand free from his hold. "in your dreams, jeon."

"yeah, almost every night." he shoots back with a smirk.

you ignore his statement, despite the wanted eruption of butterflies you feel in your stomach. jungkook checks his watch with a sigh.

"we've been gone too long already." he says.

"you go first. i'll wait for a while then come out."

he nods before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. he gives you a little smirk then slips out the door. you give it at least two minutes before exiting the bathroom and slipping back into the hallway.

once you get back to your family's table you take your seat next to your mother, softly wincing at the dull, delicious ache between your legs. your mother turns to you immediately, her eyebrows knitting.

"what took you so long?" she asks while her eyes inspect you. "and your hair... it's a mess. are you alright?"

you force a smile. "i wasn't feeling well. must be the champagne and all the people. i needed a minute to breathe."

she studies you for another few seconds before her face softens. "poor thing. we won't stay much longer, i promise. your father's already been itching to leave anyway."

she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "you sure you're okay?"

"fine, mom, really."

she squeezes your hair once then turns back to whatever conversation she was having before you came. across the room, you see jungkook at his table again. he's sitting with his legs spread and an arm draped over the back of another chair. he looks so hot, still so fuckable, you wish you had agreed to let him take you again.

a server places a dish in front of him. a large piece of steak with some vegetables on the side. he picks up his fork and knife and digs in as if he hadn't just fucked his sworn enemy senseless in a bathroom minutes ago. 

you've grown to learn that jungkook loves food, he loves eating. loves the way food feels on his tongue, loves the flavours, loves everything about it. but you've also grown to learn that if there's anything he loves to eat more than food - it's you.

you can't help but think about how he devours you like he's a starved man, instead of the rich, cocky bastard he usually is. the way he feasts on you, holding your thighs spread open until you're crying, shaking and begging him to stop but also to keep going.

your whole body heats up traitorously fast. damn jungkook and the stupid effect he has on you.

•───୨୧───•

a week passes by slowly, excruciatingly slow. all because it's been seven days of radio silence between you and jungkook. no messages, no random calls ending with you two having phone sex, no nothing. not that you really expected anything else, that was the deal. fuck and forget and hate each other. except this time you can't find yourself enjoying the last two very much.

you've spent most of the week locked in your own head, isolated in your fortress of an apartment. the one your father spent hundreds of thousands on. another one of the luxuries in your life that's starting to feel like a cage.

your parents love you, you know that, it's unquestionable. but love, in your family comes with terms and conditions. because your mother had complications getting pregnant again, you're an only child. the sole heir, the future of an empire that's built on money and dead bodies. you have a lot of expectations. one day the power will be yours, whether you want it or not.

and of course, you do not want it.

you want something better, something that actually makes you happy, something that's nothing like the obligations you're forced to have. 

you want to write, live in your head and put your wildest thoughts on a piece of paper. you want to express all the thoughts you've never gotten to word into a book - every fantasy you've lived, every fantasy you have yet to live. it's all you ever wanted since you were a little girl.

you've majored in literature at a university your father only tolerated because it was an ivy league and it looked good on paper.

even in your free time, writing feels like the only thing that allows you to be your true self. so when you can, you write. most of the stories you write about one specific person you despise. jungkook. he's such an interesting source of inspiration for you, especially in all of the erotic stories you write. well of course he would be. that man gives you the time of your life every time his dick is buried deep inside you.

But your dreams and ambitions don't really matter. Because at the end of the day, your parents want security, powerful alliances and legacy. And lately whenever you were alone with your parents they started dropping hints.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" your mother would casually ask.

Your father would nod before adding on. "There are good guys out there. Sons of men we trust. Strong families. It would solidify things."

They didn't name anyone yet, but you knew many of their friends from over the years. They were all powerful, all of them safe for you. All of them so fucking boring you wanted to scream.

You didn't argue with them because you didn't think you had a right to. You have to please your parents no matter what. Even if it means putting your own happiness on the line.

So you spent the next week in your own isolated bubble - writing whatever came to mind, treating yourself to whatever you wanted, ignoring the ache between your legs that could go away if you had Jungkook.

By saturday morning you still weren't feeling too good. Which is why you've decided to text your best friend Megan for a little spa day - which of course, she immediately agreed to.

After the most relaxing day of facials, body scrubs, massages, manicures and pedicures - you and Megan are finally feeling surreal, chilling in a jacuzzi. After a while of silence, Megan turns her head to look at you.

"You've been rather quiet today. What's up?" she asks.

"I'm always quiet."

"Not like this." she nudges your foot under the warm water with her own. "Something's on your mind. I can see you're thinking too hard."

"I'm just tired." you lie.

"bullshit .

You crack one eye open, noticing that she's watching you. Who are you kidding? This is Megan, your best friend of over nineteen years. If something's wrong with you, she'd definitely know.

You let out a defeated sigh. "It's a lot." you admit. "The empire, the expectations

. And there's - the rest of it,"

"The rest of it being your extremely hot, extremely forbidden hate sex situationship with Jeon Jungkook.?"

You groan and give her an annoyed look. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm just stating facts." she gives you a small smirk. "You two still pretend you hate each other's guts while simultaneously trying to break each others's pelvis everytime there's a gala?"

You glare at her. "I do hate him."

"Mmh."

"I can't stand him."

"Sure."

"He's arrogant, stupid, fucking annoying-"

"That's funny, you say." Megan cuts in. "You light up like a Christmas tree the second his name comes up."

You open your mouth, close it then open it again. "I only need his dick." you force the words out, knowing that they might not be entirely true. "That's it. Hate fuck. No feelings. No complications."

"It's okay to want more than that, you know." she says softly.

"I don't want more. I just want to write. I want to be free. I want to be... happy,"

Megan reaches over and squeezes your shoulder. "It's okay, y/n. You're allowed to want all of that. You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

You swallow a little lump forming in your throat. "They think marriage will fix everything and we'll have more power. They haven't said it yet but I can feel it coming."

"So what're you gonna do when they pick someone?" Megan asks softly.''

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to learn to live with it." you let out a bitter laugh.

She doesn't say anything, silence sits between the two of you for a minute before she bumps her shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook's not on that list, is he?"

You grin in disbelief. "Definitely not. My father would sooner shoot him than shake his hand."

"You're not gonna miss him afterwards?"

You don't answer her right away. Because if you had again, it would taste too bitter. Would you miss Jungkook? You're not just scared to admit the truth to Megan, you're afraid to admit the truth to yourself as well. The ugly truth that's been developing for the past few months.

"That doesn't matter."

Megan smiles sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

You lean in closer and lay your head on her shoulder, feeling relieved that you've finally gotten some things off your chest,

•───୨୧───•

Once you get into your apartment, you kick off your shoes by the door and take off your coat, dropping it somewhere. With a loud sigh, you head straight towards the bar cabinet and grab the most expensive wine you have and pour a generous glass.

As you sip on the wine, you think to yourself. You don't want to marry some stranger. Wake up next to someone you know absolutely nothing about. Be with a person whose touch would feel foreign to you. Someone who would be polite with you, instead of the possessiveness you're now used to.

But, at the same time, you don't want to disappoint your parents. Legacy means everything to them, so you're not going to let them down. Even if it means spending the rest of your life being a miserable trophy married to a business partner.

Just as most times when you're feeling stressed or uneasy, your mind wanders off to Jungkook. How addictive his touches are. How rough he can be, yet so gentle. How he fucks you so good, you can't think of anyone else but him.

You want him here right now. Want him to shove you against the nearest surface, wrap your legs around his waist and fuck every last coherent thought out your head. You want him here to make you forget all about the weight of the crowns you never asked for...

You set the wine glass down and pick up your phone, opening your messages with him. Most of the texts are filthy things - provocative, sexy pictures sent to each other. Coordinates for hookup spots. Before you can think yourself out of it, you're typing a message

You : you busy tonight?

The three dots appear almost immediately,

Jungkook : yeah. Got things to handle til late.

After reading his message you let out a highly frustrated groan and carelessly toss your phone onto the couch.

"Fucking asshole. Busy when I need something."

You gulp down a huge sip of wine before you end up cursing him out.

You love sex, love the intimacy of it, love the way it feels, love absolutely everything about it. You've always been a rather needy woman, always. And when things first happened with Jungkook, your needs had become even more unbearable.

The first time with him happened almost a year ago. You were both dealing with business when something went wrong for both of you. You both ended up hurt, cornered somewhere with nowhere to go - stuck with each other.

The details of what happened that night is a story for another time ;) But somehow, for some reason, Jeon Jungkook had ended up kissing you. For unknown reasons you had started kissing him back. You kissed each other as if you were fighting, tongues colliding together, teeth clashing,saliva dripping down your chins.

Soon enough clothes were getting pulled off, bodies were gettting marked up and you were moaning the name you despised the most as he gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Since then, the two of you had made it a thing. Instead of killing each other, you used each other - fucking where you could - in his car, in yours, in private jets, in warehouses, in hotels he'd book.

The sex you have with Jungkook was undoubtedly the best thing you could ever experience. He's perfect when it comes to giving you a good time. He loves when you ride his face, loves eating you out until you're oversensitive and screaming his name, loves fucking you good and edging you until you're crying, creampies he'd finger back inside you while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. There are so many things that you and him have tried and have yet to try, and the thought of that excites you every single time.

You're certain Jungkook loves this as much as you do, if not, he loves it even more than you do. He is pussy-whipped for you. You can tell by the way he moans when he sinks into you, the way he messages you at the oddest hours to tell you how horny he is thinking about you, the way he usually cancels everything if you send him something provocative, and so much more.

It's just a mutual hate-addiction thing between the two of you. You hate his guts. You tell yourself that every time you come around his cock. And anyways, he's just a cocky bastard who loves to get under your skin, especially when he teases you about your 'princess' status even when he's balls deep inside you.

You want to kill him sometimes, strangle him with your bare hands, shoot him - anything.

But there's another part of you that hated those thoughts (even though you'd probably wouldn't actually kill him). Sometimes you thought to yourself; What if you don't actually hate him? "What if you and him actually got to know each other? What if there could be something more between you two?

You push the thoughts away, drinking some more wine. Jungkook's a good fuck. The best fuck. You don't need more, neither do you want more. You just need him to relieve your stress and give you pleasure. But unfortunately, tonight he isn't coming.

You walk to your bedroom, lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about how empty your bed feels since Jungkook isn't in it. You try not to imagine him on top of you, pinning you down, kissing while promising to fuck you exactly how you like it...

•───୨୧───•

The next few days go by quickly. You haven't done much, since there wasn't a lot for you to do - other than a few errands your parents asked you to handle, or random outings with Megan.

It's been a bit boring, but rather peaceful and relaxing, the only thing that had been worrying you was the fact that you had no messages from Jungkook. Not a single text asking to see you, not a single picture from him, not even a single voice note. Usually he'd reach out at least once or twice a week, sometimes more if the week had been boring. But now there's been nothing but silence.

Throughout these days you've tried to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, you don't even care. He's busy, he's an asshole, maybe he's got his dick up someone else. It's fine. Good for him. It doesn't bother you. You don't need him.

Except you do need him. And that's been abundantly clear every time you touched yourself and failed to bring to yourself even a quarter of the pleasure he brings to you.

By Thursday evening you were feeling rather miserable, and to make your matters worse, your phone buzzed with a message.

Mother : Sweetheart, we have another event this Saturday. Your father insists we all attend together. Dress appropriately.

You groan loudly. Yet another night of forced smiles, politics and fake performances. You're so tired of it, you almost tell your mother that you're in no mood to attend when you remember something. Jungkook will be there, of course he will. None of the Jeons ever miss prestigious events, they show up to these things as if it's the biggest blessing.

You're itching to see Jungkook. He hasn't said anything in longer than usual, so you're very curious about his whereabouts. On Saturday night you'll corner him somewhere quiet and kick him in his groin and demand he tell you why he's been ghosting you.

•───୨୧───•

It's finally Saturday night. You're standing in front of your mirror assessing how you look. You look beautiful, wearing a long, emerald-coloured dress with the neckline dipping enough to show some cleavage and a slit that shows your thigh every time you take a step. Your hair is let down and you've touched up with just a bit of make-up. You look perfect, but inside, you're far from it – you're feeling nervous.

Once you reach the venue with your parents, you enter and take your seats. As discreet as possible, you start scanning the crowd. The Jeon table is already occupied. Mr Jeon sitting beside his wife, along with some of their other family and advisors, but no Jungkook. Your heart drops. Jungkook is always here, he'd never miss such events.

You force your gaze away and accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Your mother says something to you, but you barely register her words, since your mind is completely elsewhere. Where the fuck is he?

You keep your eyes forward as the elderly host welcomes all the guests. For the next couple of minutes you watch as people converse with one another. Watching as you sit alone, hoping that he'll just show up soon – not because you're eager* to see him or anything! But because he really deserves to get kicked in his balls. That's all.

After a while, the doors open again. You turn your attention to the late arrivals, and there Jungkook is. Painfully looking as handsome as ever in a black tuxedo with his hair a little messy, just as you like it. His movements cause multiple heads to turn to him and look at him with either respect, admiration or envy.

But he's not alone. A woman is clinging to his arm. She's beautiful and elegant-looking wearing a silky pink gown that hugs her curves. She leans into Jungkook as they walk, her head tilted on his shoulder, and he... he's smiling at her. Smiling at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the room.

The glass of champagne freezes halfway to your lips. They walk over to the Jeon family table together. When Jungkook's mother sees them, the warmest smile spreads across her face. She stands to greet the woman, lightly kissing both her cheeks. "So lovely to see you again, darling." she says clearly enough for everyone around them to hear. The girl smiles back sweetly and lets Jungkook guide her into the seat right beside him. 

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You force your gaze back to the stage to whatever the host is talking about. Your fingers tighten around your glass, you're certain it might break. A few minutes later, you glance back at Jungkook, he glances at you too, making brief eye contact before he looks away. He looks away as though so very recently, he did not fuck you so passionately, so needily.

Your blood turns to ice. Is this why he ghosted you? He found himself a real girlfriend? One who he can bring to fancy events. Someone who his mother clearly approves of. Someone who isn't a secret he has to hide. You want to walk over there, yell at him and beat the shit out of him, but how can you?

Despite all the anger you're currently feeling, buried deep beneath, something you don't want to acknowledge is that you may be hurt. But of course, you tell yourself that you don't care who else he fucks, who he dates because you hate him. And right now you hate him more than ever.

You don't look at him again, you keep your eyes anywhere but him. Though many times, you've gotten the feeling of him looking at you.

You look completely unbothered, but mentally you're cursing him. Piece of shit. How dare he?

The event isn't even halfway done when you watch movement in your peripheral vision. Jungkook and the girl are standing. He murmurs something to his mother before offering the woman his arm again, she takes it with a smile. He walks her toward the exit with his hand on her lower back as she continues clinging to him.

You endure the rest of the event with your parents, until it's time to go home.

•───୨୧───•

The days after the event were unbearable for you, and unfortunately for everyone around you as well. You were being rather bitchy to your assistants, your mother and anyone else really. Everyone has been getting the worst of your mood swings.

One of the days, you had printed a booklet filled with pictures of Jungkook's face so you could use them on dummies at your family's private shooting range to practise your headshots. And not so surprisingly, you had blown the heads off of all the dummies. At a sparring session, you had taped one of the pictures to the punching bag and beat it up, vividly imagining that it actually was Jungkook

A few nights after that, as if he was trying to get under your skin, he had the audacity to message you.

Jungkook : you up? Can I come over.

The audacity that this man has astounds you. You type messages swearing at him before deleting them, deciding to be mature and block him instead.

the following evening you sit at your desk and decide to pour your rage into pages. You describe your male as very similar to Jungkook (which you often do) and describe the female lead as similar to you. In your little story, the female lead becomes aggravated with the male and ends up trying to physically harm him.

Somehow, things end up becoming even more tense between them and they share the most heated kiss, until things elevate. You write the scene until it starts to read like something too close to reality. Something too close to what you and Jungkook would end up doing.

You slam your laptop shut, telling yourself that none of those stories you've written are about him. None of the stories you've written in there are anything about the experiences you've had with him. You'd never write about him. You love to write whereas you have nothing but hate for Jungkook. It would be too ironic.

୨୧

On Saturday evening, you're still feeling quite awful. You need something urgently, something to make you feel good. You reach in your freezer for some soju, just to help quiet the noise in your head. You're about to open the bottle when you hear a sound upstairs, the sound of your window opening followed by steps.

Your heart skips a beat. Nobody gets past your security, absolutely nobody.

Quietly you take one of the knives from your kitchen drawer. Your parents have made you train how to fight, you know how to use weapons, so you know exactly how to draw blood without killing.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom. The bedroom door is cracked open; you push it open with your shoulder whilst keeping your knife raised. A hooded figure is stepping in, a figure you recognise immediately despite the darkness. Once he's properly inside, he gently closes the window.

Without hesitation, you close the distance, hook your arm around his throat from behind and yank him backwards and hold the knife firmly to his throat.

"Don't move." you warn him.

He freezes before pulling his hood down.

"Hey hey, it's me." he says quickly with his hands up. "It's just me, princess. Put the knife down."

You stare at the side of his face, remembering how he brought another woman to the event, yet still has the guts to show up here as if you're just going to allow it. Your grip on the knife doesn't loosen, instead you press it harder against his skin.

Jungkook's breath hitches and his eyebrows knit together, his confusion turning more cautious.

"Baby... what are you doing? It's me." he whispers.

You lean in closer so your lips brush his ear.

"What the hell are you doing breaking into my house?" you ask. "You think you can just come here after ghosting me?"

Jungkook swallows. "I just came to see you. I've been calling and texting, you haven't picked up once. I thought something was wrong."

You huff out a bitter laugh. "Something wrong? Yeah. You. You're what's fucking wrong, Jeon."

He blinks once, confusion mixing with his fear. He's scared, not necessarily scared of the knife being pressed to his throat (he's been threatened with worse), he's scared of you, like this.

"You blocked me?" he asks.

"Yes, I did."

He exhales through his nose. "Then why the fuck are you acting like i ghosted you on purpose? I've been-"

"Shut up." You press the knife even harder, until a thin red line appears on his skin "You're stupid for coming here. I don't want to see you. I could kill you right now and nobody would know."

His adam's apple bobs. And then faster than you can process, he twists. His forearm knocks the knife out of your hand while the other grabs your wrist tightly, causing the knife to clatter on the floor. You don't even have time to gasp when he spins you and slams you back against the wall, pinning both your hands on top of your head, using one of his hands.

He uses his body to keep you in place, his chest pressing against yours, his hips flush against yours, his thigh slotting between yours. Your breath hitches when his free hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, a bit roughly.

"Gotcha." he teases

Your heart's racing so fast, you're almost sure he can feel it.

Fuck, you love this. You hate that you do. You love the way he manhandles you, so rough and possessive, all dominating. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, your nipples harden and you feel that little flutter in your lower belly. But even despite your growing arousal, you're still so fucking angry.

He leans in slowly, his nose brushing the side of your neck. Earlier on you had the longest bath, shaved, used the sweetest smelling soap and applied your favourite moisturizer. You've done that for yourself, to feel good. You surely did not expect Jungkook to be here inhaling your smell as if you're a drug. He exhales shakily, letting out a soft groan.

"Fuck," he curses against your throat. "You smell so good."

His kisses on your neck start off soft, then they become open-mouthed, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You gasp when he starts biting you. He goes further up to suck just below your ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asks roughly. "You're angry. Talk to me."

You keep quiet, not wanting to answer him. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

"Baby..."

"Don't call me that."

He exhales through his nose again, sounding a bit frustrated. He kisses your neck again while rolling his hips against you, grinding his hardness against you causing you let out an involuntary high moan.. Jungkook pulls back to look at you again.

"Tell me what I did."

You say nothing, he waits for your answer that is not coming anytime soon. You just stare up at him. He sighs before dropping his forehead to yours.

Soft and almost pleading, he asks; "What's wrong? Why are you being like this?"

Hearing him ask what's wrong, as if he's not the source of your anger further enrages you. You're not sure what comes over you, but you do what you've been meaning to do – you knee him square in the balls.

He groans and sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a few curses. He stumbles to the side, one of his hands going down to cup himself as the other hand braces on the wall. The pain he feels is strong, but it's not excruciating. It was your intention just to hurt him a little, not to break your favourite part of him.

After the pain seems to fade, he straightens with his jaw clenched. You don't wait to see how he recovers, instead you walk towards the bedroom door, eager to get away from him. If he values his life, he better get out the same way he came in.

You make it about three steps to the door when suddenly strong arms are being wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet. You squeal, shocked and furious.

"Jungkook! Put me the fuck down!"

He does not listen to you, instead he carries you over to your bed and drops you face down on it. Before you can get up to swing at him, he delivers a very hard smack to your ass. Involuntarily you let out a high pitched gasp, jerking forward a bit.

The delicious sting of his smack goes straight between your legs. Fuck. You hate how your body betrays every single time. You're a sucker for his hands on you, you've always been one. You love his touches - whether they're rough or gentle, punishing you or praising you. The second Jungkook touches you, your brain short circuits and you get rather excited*

He leans over you, so his chest is pressed against your back. One knee is between your thighs to keep you spread open. He delivers another smack to your ass, this time it's even harder. You fail to hold back the moan that makes its way from your throat, it's so needy that you want to punch yourself.

"There she is." he murmurs against your ear lowly. "My princess making those pretty sounds for me."

"Fuck off." you try to say, as petty as possible. Though, it just comes out breathless.

He chuckles at that, rubbing your ass cheek softly, soothing the skin through your thin, silky shorts. His hand goes down to caress you where your thigh meets your ass cheek. He bends to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss there then a lot more.

You squeeze your eyes shut. How the hell can he do this? How can he climb through your window, man handle you, spank you and kiss you so intimately after everything?

You hate him so much right, yet you've missed him too. You've spent nights alone, dreaming of him being here, doing exactly what he's doing now. But now he's here, aching to please you and all you want to do is dig his eyes out. Jungkook shifts a bit, pressing his hips forward so you can feel exactly how hard he is.

"Been thinking about this pretty pussy nonstop. You gonna make it better, baby? Or you gonna keep being a brat and making me beg?"

You bite your bottom lip, wanting to do both of those options. But you're still feeling petty so you keep quiet instead, not giving him any answer.

He lets out a long, frustrated exhale. "You're really gonna do this tonight."

Again, you don't answer.

"Do you want me gone?"

"Yes."

He stops for a few seconds, breathing in and out, his cock throbbing against your ass. Eventually, he sighs deeply and pushes off you. The sudden absence of his weight on you feels awful. You didn't think that he'd actually get off.

"Fine," he says softly. "If that's what you want."

He stands, adjusts himself and turns to your room window, walking toward it. Once you hear him opening it, panic claws its way up your throat. You roll over fast.

"Jungkook. Wait "

For a while, he stands there for a moment, with his back turned to you. Slowly, he turns back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, you notice that he looks a little hurt.

"I'm not gonna force you. If you want me gone, I'll go."

You stare up at him with your chest tight. You want him to stay, you need him to stay, and you hate the fact that you do.

"Don't go." you whisper.

Jungkook sighs, walking back over to you. You're looking up at him with the prettiest expression he's ever seen. Your eyes are a little glassy, your lips slightly parted. The look undoes him, makes him weak, so fucking weak. He's faced dangerous men who've had loaded guns pressed to his forehead, and even then he'd been okay. But with you - you unravel him in ways he never thought were possible.

He stops right in front you. He reaches out, his knuckles grazing your jaw. His hand opens to cup the side of your face as his thumb caresses your bottom lip. Your breath hitches, he uses the opportunity to press the tip of his thumb inside your mouth. Your lips close around it gently first before you start sucking and twirling your tongue around it while maintaining eye contact with him.

Jungkook swallows hard, his other hand balling into a fist at his side as if he's trying to hold himself back from grabbing your hair and yanking you down to suck onto something else.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asks rough, yet tenderly. "You've been so mad ever since I came."

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, brings it to his own mouth and licks your spit off it with his eyes locked onto yours. You stare back at him, your mouth opening and then closing, still holding back your answer.

Jungkook sighs again softly before leaning down close. So close that his nose brushes yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You give him a confused, almost amused look. How dare he act polite now after spanking your ass the way he did?

Your lips pout just a little - enough for him to understand what you're saying. He grins, closing the distance. The kiss starts off gentle and soft. But you're not in the mood for his gentleness or softness. Your hands fly up to his hoodie, bringing him closer to insert your tongue into his mouth whilst kissing him harder.

He lets you dominate for a few seconds until he takes control as usual. His hand makes its way to the back of your neck, threading into your hair to tilt your head exactly where he wants it. His other hand goes to your waist, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you like he's trying to suffocate you, it's filthy and possessive. His tongue thrusts into your mouth making you whimper into his mouth. He sucks onto your bottom lip, nips on it then soothes it with his tongue

You try to fight for dominance – pushing against his chest, trying to change the angle, trying to get control. Jungkook just tightens his grip, growls low in throat and keeps dominating you. Until the memory of him walking into that event with that woman on his side, smiling with her, being glued to her, his mother beaming at her as if she's her future daughter-in-law - the memory hits you, ugly and unwelcomed. You bite down hard on Jungkook's lip.

He winces and breaks the kiss with a hiss, a little bit of blood blooms on lip. He looks at you with something dark and wild in his eyes, before suddenly placing his hands on your hips and flipping you onto all fours with effortless strength. You squeal, surprised. Before you can snap at him, his fingers find the waistbands of your shorts and your underwear underneath and pulls them down.

They pool at your knees, so now you're presented to him with your bare ass up, back arched and pussy glistening. He groans before leaning down to sink his teeth into one of your ass cheeks, biting on it as revenge.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time. "Jungkook-"

He soothes the mark almost immediately, kissing his bite mark softly.

"Payback." he says against your skin.

He leans down lower, spreading you wider with his hands before latching his mouth on you. He doesn't start off slow, he licks you from your entrance to your clit greedily. You cry out loudly, your hips bucking back against his face.

He groans into you as if you're the best thing he's ever eaten. Because you are. He missed this – he missed you. Missed the way you taste, missed the way you get so wet for him, missed the you sound. He eats you out like he's starving. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking softly then becoming harder, thrusting his tongue into your entrance, while his tongue nudges your clit every time.

You're loud, you're always extremely loud. Moans escaping you loud and needy. "Jungkook- fuck. Right there, don't stop."

He hums against you, the vibrations turning you on even more. His hand grips your thigh tightly, holding you in place to prevent you from moving an inch from his mouth. After a very few minutes, you're shaking, moaning even louder.

"Jungkook- I'm- ah."

Jungkook always knows when you're close. He doubles his efforts, sucking and tongue fucking you even harder until you're releasing while moaning his name. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking you up slowly until you're whimpering softly. He pulls back to breathe, before leaving a few pecks on your swollen and sensitive pussy

He straightens and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You turn over so you can watch him. He reaches behind his neck to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt follows afterwards.

You missed this sight more than you'd ever admit. The sight of Jeon Jungkook standing near your bed shirtless, flushed, looking so lustful. He's definitely the most attractive man you've ever seen – handsome, tall, muscular, tatted. You can't look away from him.

He catches you staring, his eyes darken and he gives you a small smirk. His hands move to his belt so that he can unbuckle it and put it aside. He pulls down the zip on his pants and pulls his pants down, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, thick and leaking at the tip.

You get off the bed, getting to your knees. Your mouth waters and your pussy clenches at the thought of having him in your mouth as soon as possible. At this moment all you think of is how you're about to give him the best head. You're concerning yourself with the event, with the other woman, nothing.

You wrap your hand around his thick cock and guide the tip to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, licking and swallowing the precum. Jungkook hisses through his teeth. One of his hands finds the back of your head - not controlling your movements, just holding instead.

"Ah fuck, good girl..." he breathes.

You hum around him, content at the praise. You know he likes it so you take him deeper and hollow your cheeks as you suck on him. You've given  him head countless times so over time you've learnt how to give him the most enjoyable time.

You're pleasuring him exactly the way he likes – deep throating with saliva dripping down your chin. Jungkook's hips start jerking, chasing your mouth as you start bobbing your head.

"Just like that." he groans.

His free hand finds yours near his thigh and he intertwines them together.

"You're taking me so well, princess."

You moan around him, high and needy. Again, loving his praise. You pick up the pace, going faster until wet, slurping sounds fill the room. Saliva drips down your chin onto your chest, but you don't stop, you suck him deeper until your eyes water. Jungkook's losing it. His hand grips your hair tightly now as he thrusts into your mouth as gently as he possibly can.

"Gonna come-" he pants. "You want it down your throat?"

You answer by twirling your tongue around him, trying to take him impossibly deeper. He groans as he comes hard, down your throat. You swallow it as your head still bobs slowly. Jungkook curses under his breath.

When he finally stops pulsing, you pull off slowly until the tip is out your mouth with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to him. You look up at through your slightly wet lashes, he stares down at you with an unreadable look.

You stand up slowly and sit back on the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Jungkook stands there frozen for a few moments. Fuck, you're gorgeous. Eyes watery, chin wet, hair messy. He wants to tell you, wants to drop to his knees and tell you that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, that just looking at you makes his heart flutter, that he'd climb through your window every night if he could, just to see you for five minutes.

But the small ache that's still there in balls reminds him that you'd probably knee him again if he tried to be soft with you. So he doesn't speak, he just climbs onto the bed, hovering over you. He kisses you filthy and hungry. Your tongues slide together, tasting each other. Both of you moan and groan into each other's mouths animalistically.

It's one of your nastiest make-out sessions yet - teeth clashing, tongues colliding. He sucks onto your tongue, pulls it between his lips and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. He grinds against you causing his cock to slide against your inner thigh.

You arched up into him, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He breaks the kiss to lift your camisole top up so it bunches at your arms. He doesn't pull it completely off yet, he just leans down and licks between your cleavage. He comes back to lick one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

You gasp, back arching off the bed and fingers flying to his hair. He groans around your nipple before switching to your other breast. He sucks and bites on it, making sure to leave his marks on you. As he sucks on the one, he palms the other, squeezing while using his thumb to play with your nipple.

"Gonna fuck you so good tonight." he mumbles roughly. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so every time you walk you'll remember I was here, so you remember that you're all mine."

You love this side of him. You love how possessive he sounds over you, how he praises you, but the words do not sit right with you tonight. 'Mine.' When he walked into that event with someone else by his side. The anger suddenly surges back, but you don't say or do anything yet. You know how you're going to torment him and you're about to enjoy it more than anything.

Jungkook pulls your camisole off completely, tosses it somewhere then gets his pants and boxers off. He's completely naked now. He settles between your thighs while he keeps kissing you wherever he can reach – on your throat, your collarbone and between your breasts.

One of his hands reaches down to wrap around his length, guiding himself to your entrance. He nudges the tip through your folds, teasing the both of you and he smears his precum with your wetness until you're both softly groaning. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and wild and lustful.

"You want me, baby?" he asks, his voice rough and heavy with restraint.

You stare up at him, your nails now digging into his shoulders a bit angrily. Instead of answering him, you lift your hips, trying to slide yourself down onto him, taking him slowly. Jungkook curses and pushes in the rest of the way, stretching you open until he's buried all the way.

You both freeze for a second, breathing in each other's air. After a short while, Jungkook starts to move into you. His hands find yours and he intertwines them above your head. He pulls out then sinks in even deeper with a loud groan.

"Fuck." his forehead drops down onto yours and his eyes flutter shut. "This is the best feeling in the world. Nothing comes close to this.

He truly means it. To him there's nothing better than being buried inside you and feeling you wrap around him. It's addictive to him, he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy and be the happiest man on Earth.

You're soaking wet, allowing him to thrust into you with ease. He moves slowly at first, pulling out and pushing back in, until he goes deeper and harder. Fucking you in the way that drives you insane for him.

By now you're moaning, unfiltered and needy. Your nails rake down his back, hard enough to leave your marks on him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back to pull him deeper.

Jungkook loves how you get when he fucks you. He loves how needy you get, how pretty you sound. He doesn't know why it gets him so hard and turned on, why hearing you fall apart because of him makes him feel so possessive over you. Jungkook wishes he could experience this feeling forever. Just you and him, being so intimate and desperate for each other.

"Listen to you." he groans against your ear, fucking you harder now. "So loud for me. Taking me so well."

You're enjoying this way too much. Jungkook is being so perfect tonight. He's rough and praising – just the way you love him. You can feel him everywhere, on top of you, inside of you, surrounding you.

This has to be one of the best fucks you and him have ever had. Maybe it's because you're angry at him, and maybe it's because you felt something you'd hate to admit when you saw him with that woman. Maybe those are reasons why you're enjoying it so much, it's because a part of you is glad that he's here, pleasuring you.

But even as you melt under him and the pleasure builds, your mind still wanders off to places you wish it wouldn't. What if he fucks that woman like this? What if he whispers the same filthy praises in her ears? What if he tells her that being inside of her is the best thing ever?

Your nails grip into his back harder, with a small intention to hurt him. To make your marks on him even more visible and obvious. Jungkook hisses, both in pain and pleasure. His pace increases as if you marking him turns him on more.

"Fuck, mark me up, baby." he pants. "Let everyone know who I belong to."

You almost let out a bitter laugh, because it sounds so ironic. Purposely, you clench around him hard, pussy fluttering tightly around his cock causing Jungkook's perfect rhythm to stutter. A moan escapes Jungkook and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck – don't - don't do that–"

He loves when you do that, when you squeeze tightly, clenching around his cock, trapping him inside you. But on the downside, it makes him come way too fast – embarrassingly fast. Every time you do it, he begs you to stop. His hips thrust forward as he pant.

"Baby stop. I'm gonna – "

You do not stop, instead you clench and unclench around him until he's groaning loudly and releasing into you. He buries his face in your neck, hips bucking as he comes with a curse.

When it's over he stays there breathing hard with his hands still laced with yours. The bliss for him does not last. He lifts his head slowly and looks at you, realising that he hasn't made you come. You're just looking at him with something mean in your eyes. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together.

He does not like this. He never ever likes coming before you. It feels wrong, like he failed you somehow. He always wants you to come first, or at least to come with him. That's how it should be. Your pleasure before his own. Your pleasure is his priority.

He pulls out slowly and braces himself on his forearms above your head. "Baby..." you notice he sounds quite pissed off. "What the fuck was that?"

You blink up at him, looking like the picture of innocence. "Hmm?" you hum sweetly. "What was what?"

Jungkook stares down at you. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something. He wants to question you, wants to accuse you. He wants to ask what the hell is going on in that head of yours? Why are you doing this? He swallows his questions and leans in slowly to kiss the corner of your mouth before pulling back to look at you.

You stare at him, he's all flushed with his hair messy. You can't help but think that he looks cute like this. Way too cute for someone who can kill with his bare hands. Your heart does something stupid and infuriating. You hate him for making you feel this way.

He reaches down, grabs his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe between your thighs where his release still spills out. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lines himself at your entrance again.

You're still wet, but still, he pushes in slowly until he's deep inside. You both exhale. He stays still for a second, feeling how you're still lightly fluttering around him. He starts to move through your tight walls against your sensitive spots that he knows so well. He knows your body better than his own, so he definitely knows how to give you a good time.

You moan right against his ear and he groans lowly in response. He buries his face in your neck and starts kissing you there, open-mouthed and hungrily. You tug his hair, pulling him closer, motivating him to pick up the pace. Your breasts bounce with every one of his thrusts and Jungkook cannot stop staring at you.

"You're so pretty when you're getting fucked." he rasps.

He hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up over his shoulders. The new angle allows him to sink in even deeper. Your eyes flutter shut at the perplexing feeling.

Minutes pass, sweat forms on Jungkook's temple, dropping down to his jaw, making him look even hotter. His stamina is insane, he could usually go on for hours. His focus right now is on making you come all for him.

He's been very needy as of recently, since he hasn't been sexually active in a very long time, so when he feels his own pleasure building in his lower belly and his thighs starting to shake, he's not surprised.

He can feel that you're close as well, your pussy starts fluttering around him. You're so close. He brings your legs down and hooks them around his waist so he can hover over you with his forearms braced on either side of your head. He's close enough to you that you both breathe in each other's breaths. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth and you cheek bone before leaning to your ear to speak roughly.

"I'm close, baby. Come with me." he whispers. "Please – wanna feel you come on my dick. Wanna come together."

Your pussy flutters around him greedily and he groans. "Fuck, yeah–"

You're milking him hard, making his head spin. He cannot hold himself, he comes hard, burying himself inside you with a moan, his hips jerking through it. He waits, waiting to feel your walls seize him deep and gush around him. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing. You're panting and breathing heavily but you haven't released.

Jungkook processes it for a few seconds, then slowly, he pulls out. His cock is still hard, but softens now that the pleasure is being replaced by something else entirely. He braces himself on his forearm, hovering over you.

He asks, low and quite annoyed, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Again, you look up at him innocently. "Doing that?" you tilt your head at him, faking confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're not coming. You're holding it back just to fuck with me."

You let out a small scoff. "Maybe you're just not doing a good enough job."

The words hit Jungkook right where it hurts the most. He freezes for a few seconds. Then his eyes darken, his fingers grip the sheet as if he's trying to hold himself back. What you just told him is the worst thing you could've ever told him, it bruises him like nothing else. You've told him that he isn't good enough for you, that he could not satisfy you.

He growls low, "You fucking brat."

He roughly flips you over so you're on your stomach. You gasp and barely have time to brace yourself before he yanks you up, so you're on fours in front of him. Your face is pressed into the sheets and your ass in the air. His slaps your ass cheek hard, so hard that the sound echoes in your massive room. You yelp and moan, jerking forward.

His hand wraps around throat, tilting your head back so you're arching. He pulls you up until your back is against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. His warm breath fans your ear. His other hand goes down to deliver a smack directly to your clit. You cry out shamelessly, pain and pleasure shooting through you.

"Stop your fucking shit." he growls against your ear. "Right now."

You laugh breathlessly, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Why? What are you gonna do about it, Jeon?"

His grip on your throat tightens slightly and his teeth graze your earlobe. "I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you."

His hand between your thighs moves up higher, he slides two fingers through your folds, circling your clit. You whimper, melting into his touch even as you try to stay defiant.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" he murmurs. "You think I don't know how you're trying to make me mad?"

His fingers press against your clit harder as he kisses your neck, sucking onto the marks he's left. He inserts his fingers inside you again, curling them deep. He finger-fucks you until you're panting and moaning again.

He carries on until he knows you're about to release, but still, you don't. You refuse to give him what he so desperately wants, you continue denying yourself just to spite him. You're still winning whatever fucked up game this is.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out abruptly and uses his hand to deliver another smack to clit before cupping it, feeling you throb against him. He tries to catch his breath, he's fuming at this point. What kind of torture is this?

But Jungkook being Jungkook, is not going to give up. He lines himself at your entrance again and sinks into you in a hard thrust. You moan, nails digging into his arm where it holds you across your stomach. Again, he starts fucking you, but harder and deeper now, keeping one arm securely around your waist and the other loosely around your neck.

You're so loud, whimpering and moaning softly – those sweet sounds he lives for. He goes on for long until he can feel the pleasure building for himself, warning him that he was going to come yet again but he can still feel you holding back.

He stops moving, his hips thrust forward one last time and he stays buried deep inside you. He lets out a frustrated groan as his forehead drops to your shoulder, both his hands moving to your hips now.

"What is your fucking problem?" he asks furiously, almost pleading.

For a moment, you say nothing. Then you finally let it out. "I can't stand you." you say, your own voice furious. It kind of sounds like you're at the verge of crying. "You're so stupid, Jungkook. So fucking blind. How can you be here, fucking me, when you brought someone along with you to the event? Let your mom beam at her, like she's something important to you–"

Jungkook freezes, although his grip on your waist tightens as he processes your little outburst. After a few seconds, he huffs out a laugh against your neck.

"Is this funny to you!?" you hiss, yanking forward trying to pull away from him.

His cock almost slips out of you, but you don't make it away because he pulls you back against him so roughly, your ass recoils against his hips. You hate yourself for the pure moan that spills out of you.

Jungkook's lips brush your ear as he speaks, "You're jealous." he says, smug and delighted.

"I'm not jealous." you spit, rageful. "I hate you. I hate that you think you just parade with someone else, then climb through my window like I'm yours to fuck whenever you want me."

"Oh, princess." he pulls out and thrusts inside you. "You are still mine. And yeah, I brought someone else to the event. She's just a family friend. An old arrangement my mom's been pushing for years. She doesn't mean shit. I don't want her, baby."

"Bullshit."

He presses a soft, tender kiss to the side of your neck. "You think I'd risk everything, my reputation, my life – just to be someone who isn't you?" his tone turns serious, losing the smugness. "You're the only person I want."

You're speechless, not believing what you just heard. But of course, you're not going to admit how happy his words have made you, so instead you clench around his cock hard. He winces and his hips jerk forward.

"Fuck." he grunts, letting out a ragged breath. 

He sucks another mark onto your neck while rolling his hips into you.

"You think I look at anyone else the way I look at you?"

He thrusts into you deeply again, making you moan and arch your back.

"You're the only one," he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. "The only one who makes me this stupid, this weak. This fucking desperate."

He punctuates each sent with a thrust before sticking to the perfect rhythm that has you moaning his name. He removes the hand from your throat and brings it down to your breasts to knead them.

"Look at these tits. So fucking perfect." he groans. "You know how many times I jerked off thinking about them?"

He pinches one of your nipples, making you whimper before he soothes it.

"You're so tight," he continues, his hips carry on thrusting in and out of you. "So wet, so fucking greedy. No one else feels like this."

He sucks more marks onto your neck while his hand goes down to rub your clit, causing you to cry out his name.

"Jungkook–ah"

Fuck. He wants those sounds in his mouth, he wants to swallow it, he wants to taste you. He grabs your face with his other hand, turning it to give you a messy kiss. He pushes his tongue inside your mouth,exploring and swallowing your pretty sounds.

Jungkook doesn't even understand what he wants anymore. All he knows is that he wants all of you. He never wants to ever pull out, he just wants to spend the rest of his life buried deep inside of you. His thrusts become even more relentless. He pulls out almost all the way before slamming back in. He puts a hand on your hip, pulling you against him to meet his thrust.

You're fluttering around him wildly, more than usual. Your breathless words become incoherent now, making Jungkook dizzy.

"Come on, baby." he growls against your mouth. "Come for me. I need to feel you."

You shamelessly scream his name as you gush around him. Warm liquid drips down his cock, soaking his thighs and sheets. Jungkook's eyes open wide as he feels the sensation, the wetness drenches him from the base to the tip. His thrusts stutter as he continues slamming into you

"Oh fuck–"

Jungkook is gone. He must be in paradise.

He releases, burying himself as deep as possible, coming into you while panting. He carries on going while you tremble and whimper beneath him.

When it finally ends, he collapses over you, his forehead on your back. He stays inside of you, not being able to out since you're still fluttering around him.

Jungkook is astounded. After a moment, he finally speaks. "Fuck... you just squirted all over me."

You immediately stiffen, feeling a sudden sense of embarrassment. You try to squirm away, but he tightens his hold on you, staying inside of you. You bury your face into your pillow and let out a mortified groan. Jungkook softly kisses your shoulder and then your neck.

"That was the hottest fucking thing ever." he rasps against you. "I'm gonna make you do it again and again."

You whimper, wanting to protest, but deciding against it, because you know that once Jungkook wants something, he's determined to get it. Especially if it revolves around you.

•───୨୧───•

Minutes later, the room is quiet. Jungkook lay on his back, an arm over his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. The sheets are damp beneath him, but it doesn't bother him. He stares at the ceiling, thinking. 

He turns his head to look at you. You're laying on your side, facing away from him with a blanket covering half your naked body. Jungkook looks at you in pure admiration and desire. He could go again right now. Slide inside you from the back and go for another round or two, but he decides not to – he's a bit tired and you must be even more.

The distance between the two of you feels wrong, he wants your bodies to be touching, he wants contact with you. He shifts over, closing the gap until your back is pressed against his chest. He puts his arm over your waist, bringing you closer to him. You let him pull you close until your ass is nestled perfectly in between his thighs. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent – you smell like your sweet body wash, sweat, sex and mostly him. He kisses your neck a few times.

"Why're you so away from me?" he asks, against you.

You sigh. "I feel gross." you admit.

"I don't." he kisses under your jaw softly. "I feel incredible."

He caresses your stomach soothingly. "But I do think you should pee. And we should shower."

"Yeah..." you say.

He kisses your shoulder one more time before standing up. "Come on." he lets out his hand for you to take.

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Your legs are wobbly so he steadies you by holding you and guiding you to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, Jungkook opens the taps, making sure that the temperature is perfect for you, while you pee.

After you're done, you step past him and into the shower. He follows after you. The hot water cascades over you, it feels absolutely amazing. Jungkook squeezes some of your body wash into his hands, planning to wash you. But you shrug him off, not wanting him to touch you.

His hands fall away. He takes a moment to look at you. You look really tense as if something is wrong. As much as he wants to, he doesn't try to get you to tell him. He just stands under the shower next to you and washes himself as well.

Once you're both done, you turn off the tap. Jungkook grabs a towel and wraps it around you. He then gets two more, one to wrap around hips and the other for your wet hair.

"Thanks." you tell him

He nods before following you out the bathroom and back to your bedroom. The sheets are a disaster so he takes them off, dumps them into the laundry basket and puts new ones on the bed.

Jungkook glances at you every now and then, watching as you dry your hair with a stoic expression. He finds his discarded boxers and puts them on before getting into bed with a tired sigh.

He watches you pull over a silky, short sleep dress and tie up your hair. You look like something out of a fever dream. A little ruined, his marks all over you, limping a little. You're so beautiful.

You get into the bed next to him, laying on your side, facing him now. None of you speak, you just stare into each other's eyes.

After a while you speak. "When did you start being so... affectionate?"

He raises an eyebrow at you, amused.

"Most of the time you just fuck me and leave, or I leave. You don't stay, hold me or do any of this."

Jungkook gives you a small smirk and moves closer to you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you against him so that there's absolutely no space between you. He dips his head to peck your lips then looks at you again.

"I feel bad.. For making you think that there was someone else."

You snort softly in disbelief.

"Although," he smirks. "You being jealous was so adorable."

You smack his chest. "I was not."

He hums sceptically. "Sure you weren't."

"I was not."

"Uh huh."

You glare at him, half-heartedly. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer to make you snuggle against him.

"Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jungkook."

୨୧

The next evening comes quickly. Jungkook snuck out of your room early in the morning, making sure that nobody had seen him. Before leaving, he cradled your face in his hands and kissed you deep and desperately, asking you to unblock him and text him when you can. After he left, you felt a great sense of relief, but also missed him.

The rest of the day went by sprightly. You made yourself a delicious breakfast, you wrote and took a heavenly bath. Around six, your mother texted you, telling you to come by for dinner and to dress elegantly. You chose a beautiful outfit and got ready.

Soon, you're arriving at your family's estate, walking inside your childhood home to the dining room. When your mother sees you, she stands up and walks over to you.

"Sweetheart, there you are." she kisses your cheek before leading you to the table.

Your eyes wander over the scene before you. Your father sits at the table, across Mr Kim* and Mrs Kim, both of them looking sophisticated as always. And beside the, Sits a guy around your age.

He's tall, handsome, almost bewitching, you find yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long. You vaguely recognise him. He's Taehyung, heir of the Kims.

Your mother squeezes your waist gently and a little too enthusiastically. "Y/N, you remember the Kims?"

You nod politely, faking a smile.

"This," your mother says excitedly, "is their son, Taehyung. Taehyung, this is our daughter."

Taehyung stands. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly." he says, sounding rather amused.

"Likewise."

Your mother beams, looking between the two of you. "Why don't you sit, darling? Dinner's almost ready."

You nod and walk over to the table, taking a seat. Taehyung slides into the chair next to you and you catch the scent of his cologne, it's almost identical to Jungkook's, though you find Jungkook's much more preferable.

Your father clears his throat before raising his glass to make a toast. "To family and legacy."

Everyone raises their glasses and clinks together. Your mother waits until the clink fades, before she speaks.

"Sweetheart... we wanted to tell you this in person."

You stare at your mother with a poker face, though your awful suspicion grows. You want to throw up when your mother actually confirms your fear.

"Taehyung is your fiancé."

hii pookies, i worked so so so hard on this! i hope you guys enjoyed it🩷if you're interested, you can find part two on my patreon. either as a normal product — Best mistake 02 or on my membership tier — rkive (comes with other benefits, i will be posting everything on here first, along with extras in the future. feel free to check it out). also, ios users please try purchasing via the web to avoid paying extra fees. and once again, if you guys do support me, please know that i sincerely appreciate you <3

warnings – y/n's kinda emotional, mentions of period sex, possessive and kinda crazy jk, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral, fingering, praising, jk makes out with her pussy, deep and rough sex, boob sucking, explicit language, i cannot mention a few things as it will spoil the story lol, but there's drama and a lot of cracking, etc...

the paddock had long since accepted that you were formula 1’s golden boy. bubbly, effortlessly charming, and armed with a blinding smile that could diffuse even the most tense post-race press conferences. you had a rare gift: everyone liked you. from the grumpy mechanics in the garage to the most cynical drivers on the grid, you were fiercely protected. moving to red bull racing had only cemented that status, especially because your teammate, max verstappen, had essentially adopted you as a younger brother. max, notorious for his ruthless, blunt demeanor, treated you like a precious commodity, constantly hovering, checking your telemetry, and throwing protective arms over your shoulders in the media pen.

but while you were busy driving your heart out, consistently planting your car in the top five, and being entirely oblivious to the social media frenzy surrounding you, formula 1 tiktok fandom was losing its collective mind.

the edits were everywhere. set to slowed-down, cute love edit audios, millions of fans analyzed every single interaction between you and mercedes’ newest prodigy, kimi antonelli. kimi was quiet, laser-focused, and carried that intense, serious italian passion that made him a formidable presence on track. yet, whenever you walked into a room, the internet noticed a shift.

there were slow-motion clips of kimi standing in the background of your interviews, his dark eyes completely fixed on you while you laughed and gestured wildly. there was the viral video from monaco where you had accidentally misplaced your driver's water bottle, and kimi, without saying a single word or even breaking eye contact with his engineer, had simply reached out and pressed his own chilled bottle into your hands before walking away. you had just assumed he was being a polite peer. the internet, however, knew better. they saw the way he lingered, the way his fingers brushed yours, and the rare, soft softening of his expression whenever you babbled excitedly during the drivers' briefings. you were completely blind to it, attributing his quiet intensity to just "kimi being kimi."

until race day in silverstone.

the atmosphere was electric. you had qualified a stellar p3, sitting right behind max in p2, while kimi had claimed a brilliant pole position. the race was a grueling, high-speed chess match, but by lap forty-two, you were holding your own, keeping the roaring red bull right on the tail of the leading pack.

then, disaster struck.

coming down the high-speed entry into copse, a sudden catastrophic mechanical failure caused the rear of your car to snap violently. you didn’t even have time to gasp over the team radio before the car spun out of control across the gravel trap, carrying immense speed until it slammed sideways into the techpro barriers with a sickening, heavy thud.

the impact rattled your teeth, the violent deceleration forcing your helmeted head to snap to the side, clipping the cockpit padding hard enough to make your vision momentarily explode into a blinding white glare.

"red flag, red flag!" the race director’s voice crackled across the global feed.

instantly, the paddock went dead silent. in the red bull garage, max’s race engineer broke into his radio. "max, red flag. big crash for your teammate at copse. looks like a rear suspension failure."

max didn’t even hesitate, his usual calm racing demeanor instantly fracturing into raw panic. "is he okay? gp, is he out of the car? tell me he’s talking," max demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh, commanding octave as he slowed his car down, straining his neck to look across the track as he passed the sector. "i'm stopping if he's not moving. someone tell me right now."

but while max was demanding answers, kimi had already reacted.

kimi had been leading the race, but the moment the flashing red lights illuminated his steering wheel dashboard and your car number flashed as the cause, his heart stopped. rounding the corner, he saw the wreckage, the shattered carbon fiber, the crumpled red bull chassis resting heavily against the barriers, and most terrifyingly, your helmeted head resting entirely still against the side of the cockpit.

kimi didn't think. he didn't ask his engineer for permission.

the moment he pulled his mercedes up near the accident site alongside the safety car deployment, kimi stomped on the brakes, unbuckled his harness with trembling, frantic hands, and killed the engine. he vaulted out of his cockpit before the track marshals could even reach the scene, his boots hitting the tarmac in a dead sprint toward your car.

"kimi, what are you doing? stay by the car," his engineer, peter bonnington, crackled anxiously over the radio, but kimi threw his earpieces out, ignoring the world.

your vision was swimming, a dull, throbbing ache pulsing right behind your eyes. you felt breathless, trapped in the heavy silence of the cockpit, trying to remember which way was up. suddenly, a pair of gloved hands gripped the edges of your halo, and a frantic, breathless voice shattered your disorientation.

"hey! hey, look at me. look at me, per favore," kimi panted, his visor up, his eyes wide and dark with a terrifying, uncharacteristic panic. he was leaning so far into your cockpit that his shadow completely covered you. "are you okay? can you hear me? speak to me, please."

"kimi...?" you mumbled, your voice sounding small and raspy inside your helmet. you blinked slowly, trying to focus on his face. "what... what happened?"

"the car broke. you hit the wall very hard," kimi explained, his voice uncharacteristically shaky as he carefully, gently reached inside to check your hans device, his fingers trembling against your shoulders. he looked you over like he was making sure you were entirely whole. "don't move your neck. the medical car is coming. just look at me, okay? keep your eyes on me."

"i'm okay," you breathed, a little bit of your usual bubbly warmth trying to fight through the daze. "just... a little dizzy, that’s all. oh god, did i ruin the race?"

kimi let out a sharp, breathless laugh that sounded incredibly close to a sob of relief. he rested his forehead against the top of your halo for a split second, closing his eyes. "you stupid boy," he whispered in a fiercely affectionate, relieved tone. "who cares about the race? you scared me to death."

by the time the medical delegates arrived, they found kimi stubbornly refusing to leave your side, holding your hand firmly until they carefully lifted you out of the chassis. even as you were placed in the back of the medical car, kimi stood on the track, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, watching the ambulance drive away with an intense, burning gaze that the television cameras caught in high-definition glory.

an hour later, the drama had settled. you had been cleared by the medical center with nothing more than a mild concussion and a few bruises, strictly ordered to rest.

you were sitting on the training table inside the private red bull motorhome, wrapped in a comfortable oversized team hoodie, sipping a juice box max had practically forced into your hands. max had already stormed into the room earlier, giving you a crushing, silent hug that nearly cracked your ribs, lecturing you about scaring him before heading off to deal with the media.

there was a soft, hesitant knock on the door.

"come in!" you called out, your voice bright despite the lingering headache.

the door slid open, and kimi stood there. he had changed into his casual mercedes team shirt and shorts, looking uncharacteristically shy. the fierce, terrifyingly protective driver from the track was gone, replaced by a quiet young man holding a small, foil-wrapped package.

"hey," kimi said softly, closing the door behind him. "max said i could come in for a minute. how is your head?"

"kimi! come here," you beamed, gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the medical table next to you. "i’m totally fine. a little bruised, but the doctors said i have a hard skull. i heard you jumped out of your car for me. that was... crazy, kimi. thank you."

kimi shrugged, a faint, lovely crimson flush creeping up his neck as he sat down close to you. he wouldn't look you directly in the eyes, suddenly fascinated by his own sneakers. "i just... i saw you weren't moving. i lost it and my heart, it completely stopped."

"you're a really good friend, you know that?" you said earnestly, tilting your head and offering him a sweet, grateful smile.

kimi let out a soft sigh, finally looking up at you. his eyes were incredibly warm, filled with a deep, unspoken emotion that had been building up for months. "friend," he repeated under his breath, a small, ironic smile touching his lips. he reached out, his fingers incredibly gentle as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from the small bandage on your forehead. "you are so smart in the car, but outside of it, you see nothing, do you?"

“oh?” you blinked, completely confused by the sudden tenderness. "what do you mean?"

kimi didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you, his gaze tracing the lines of your face with a quiet, breathtaking intensity that made the small red bull motorhome feel suddenly very, very small. the soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound between you, replacing the roaring engines and chaotic paddock chatter outside.

he reached down and placed the small, foil-wrapped package he was holding onto the table next to your juice box. "my mother, she always says that when someone you care about gets a shock, they need something sweet. it is a traditional italian hazelnut cake from home. i had my trainer get it from the motorhome."

"really? that’s so kind of you, thank y-"

"i did not jump out of my car because we are friends," kimi interrupted softly, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly register that made a strange, unfamiliar flutter wake up in your chest. his hand traveled from your forehead down to your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing across your cheekbone. his touch was warm, deliberate, and entirely un-peer-like.

you froze, your juice box hovering halfway to your mouth. "you... you didn't?"

"no," kimi said, a faint, breathless laugh escaping him as he shook his head. he looked down at your hands, then carefully slid his fingers between yours, intertwining them just like he had in those tiktok edits the internet loved so much, only this time, there was no engineer to distract him, and no crowd to hide behind. "when i saw your car hit the wall, i did not think about the championship. i did not think about mercedes, or toto, or what the stewards would do to me for leaving my car on the track."

he looked back up, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a raw, unfiltered vulnerability that completely disarmed you.

"i only thought about you and your pretty smile," he whispered, his accent thick and heavy with emotion. "i only thought that i cannot hold back anymore. i have spent the last six months watching you from the garage, waiting for you in the media pen, giving you my water just to have an excuse to touch your hand for one second... and you just think kimi is being polite."

your mouth opened slightly, the dots finally, catastrophically connecting in your mind. the lingering glances, the quiet presence always hovering just on the edge of your vision, the way he always seemed to find you in a crowded room, it wasn't just "kimi being kimi." suddenly, it made sense.

"oh," you breathed, a sudden, bright blush rushing to your cheeks, making your face feel incredibly hot. "do you... like me?"

kimi’s lips curved into a genuine, beautiful smile. one that the cameras rarely, if ever, managed to capture. he leaned in just a fraction closer, the scent of his post-race shower and clean team kit wrapping around you.

"i am crazy about you," kimi corrected gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand. "the whole paddock knows it, i think. max knows it, which is why he looks like he wants to kill me every time i breathe your air. the fans on the internet definitely know it. only the beautiful, brilliant, blind golden boy did not see it."

before you could process the absolute meltdown the whole formula 1 fandom community was going to have when they realized they were right, the motorhome door suddenly clicked.

kimi didn't pull his hand away, but he did turn his head slightly as max verstappen’s towering frame filled the doorway, a fresh bottle of water in hand and a dark, fiercely protective scowl immediately settling over his features the moment he saw how close kimi was sitting to you.

"okay, kimi," max said, his voice a low, warning rumble. "time’s over. his head hurts, he needs to rest."

kimi didn't flinch. he just gave your hand one last, lingering squeeze before slowly letting go and standing up, turning to face the older driver with that calm, unbothered italian confidence. "he is doing much better, max. i was just leaving."

he turned back to you, his eyes softening instantly as he gave you one last look. "rest, eat the cake. and check your phone later, yeah? i´ll text you."

with a polite nod to a glaring max, kimi slipped out of the room, leaving you sitting on the examination table, entirely breathless, with a racing heart that had absolutely nothing to do with your 150-mph crash at copse.

𐔌 ⠀⠀oh oh oh. i don’t know why i just kept thinking of how cute it would be to write this dynamic: secret feelings and lingering moments that just catch your breath and the oblivious reader character. i just LOVE this. 𓂃 ࣪ ִ⠀

you don’t have to say a damn thing because he knows you and your boyfriend have been having issues lately—all his fault, of course—so he sets his jaw and lets you in and you tell him everything. you tell him all the mean things he called you, how he hated that you were friends with zayne, how he accused you of cheating.

and zayne’s never killed before, never even seriously imagined it beyond his dreams—but right now, it feels inevitable. that son of a bitch thought he could call you names? accuse you, the sweetest girl to walk the earth, of something so nasty, so despicable… the man that made his pretty girl look like this… he’s already sealed his fate. he’ll be dealt with, but for now… now he has to take care of you.

you’re weeping into his chest, hiccuping while he rubs your back. your broken sobs pull at his heart strings, “h-he said i-i was awful—that–ugh, that he deserved s-someone better.” your hands fist at his shirt in anger and hurt and confusion. “he-he told me to pick b-between you ‘n him.”

zayne freezes, throat running dry. he’d been quiet this whole time, letting you cry it out while he thinks of all the ways he could kill the man, but now, he can’t bite his tongue. “and what did you say?” his heart runs wild as he impatiently waits for the words to slip out of your meek little mouth. 

you look up at him, staring into his jade eyes, noting the way his pupils nearly swallow the pretty color whole. unbeknownst to you, it’s the look of love. pure, unadulterated love. 

“i-i chose you.”

his heart bursts, and he knows it’s wrong—knows he shouldn’t—but he can’t ignore it. years and years of yearning, of aching for even the smallest piece of your love, have made him greedy. he leans in, presses his lips to yours. you tense in shock at first, but he’s so gentle, so careful, that you almost immediately melt into him.

and the longer your lips linger against his, the needier zayne becomes. your mouth parts in a soft gasp, and he takes it as his chance, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

it’s so wrong to take advantage of you like this—that thought rattles endlessly in his mind. but then he hears your moan. then he feels the way you melt against him, comfortable, familiar, almost as if you’ve been imagining this moment for just as long as he has. and after that, he can’t bring himself to stop.

he can’t stop the way he flips you on to your back, or the way he hungrily devours your mouth or the sharp exhales through his nose as he tries to catch his breath without pulling off of you. he needs you. he’s needed you for years.

and now… now he finally has you, and he plans on making you his forever. 

your clothes are off, tears still slipping out of your eyes as your heart aches for him. not your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—but for zayne. for the friend that’s always been so close, yet so out of reach. 

he’s lining his thick, hard cock to your dripping entrance before he stops and looks at you. “i-is this okay?” he asks, voice gruff and heavy. his dark eyes burn into your bloodshot ones and they soften—just the slightest bit. “i know you’re sad, but i-i can make it better. i can fix it. i can make you feel better than he ever has, but you need to tell me it’s okay, sweetheart… please.”

he’s not sure if the beg is for you to say yes, or if it’s a plea for him to finally be let in. maybe it’s both. regardless, when you nod and whisper, “yes, please. make it better, zaynie. please,” everything flies out the window.

all his inhibitions. all the restraint. all the times he bit his tongue and swallowed his wants—gone. along with his ability to be as gentle as you deserve.

“you’re mine.” he pants, cock thrusting into you with vigor. “you’ve always fucking been m-mine.” his hands push at the back of your thighs, pushing them back till your knees knock against your chest. “i’ve loved you—all these years, i’ve loved you.”

your arms wrap around his neck and you sob for a completely different reason now. because you feel so good—he’s so deep and he’s hitting every spot the way it was meant to be hit and he’s saying all these things you’ve wanted to hear for as long as you’ve known him. 

“z-zayne—” you start but it’s cut off by a sharp cry when his cock rams against your cervix. “oh my god!”

“i don’t want to hear you say anything until i’m done—let me finish.” he warns, voice dripping with a newfound resentment. “you were always supposed to be mine, sweet girl. and that… that pathetic excuse of a man took you from me.” he rambles, pounding harder and harder. 

“i took care of you… i-i—fuck, sweetheart, i just love you. i love you, i love you, i love you.”

and you can’t help yourself. his words make your stomach toss and turn and on his last syllable, you just break. like a dam that’s been filled to the brim, you fall apart right then and there, creaming his cock. 

he groans and it only excites him further. he fucks you through your orgasm, repeatedly hitting the sensitive spongey part with his tip as he leans in close and murmurs. “you were meant for me… made for me.” he says. 

“you were made to be mine.”

#SYLUS — IN MY ROOM

there’s no love purer than sylus’s. he’s said it before—multiple times at that. you were endeared by it. sylus’s gentle touches and soft words despite his frigid exterior. 

but sylus isn’t always gentle touches and soft words. he can be mean, rough… nasty. especially when he finds someone to be a threat. you don’t see it, but he seethes when another person touches you. his heart aches when you’re away. his brain is infested with the thought of you. 

mephisto is so special to him. yes, he loves the mechanical bird, but he loves you more. he’d die without the crow because without him, he can’t keep tabs on you and without his bird’s eyes on you, he spirals out of control. 

your missions are especially hard for sylus. he always makes mephisto go with you because at least then he can tend to business in the n-109 zone while concurrently keeping an eye on you, but this time you refused. words along the lines of “i’ll be back soon–a week max. mephie doesn’t need to come with me.”

and sylus prides himself in being a man that gives his partner the autonomy of choice. he’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to—but he wishes he could. he wishes he could keep you at the base within arms reach. he wishes he could make you leave the association and move out of your tiny, shitty apartment so that you gave him all your attention. he wishes to never be apart from you. 

he never says these things, though. he never wants to be too much—too suffocating, too overbearing. but moments like this make him unravel. when you’re away on missions in distant regions, not answering his calls or texts, and mephisto isn’t there to keep an eye on you, something in him snaps just a little. and sylus gets… a bit unhinged.

or maybe very unhinged. 

sylus is level headed in every sense until it comes to you. he’s even tempered until you’ve gone two weeks without contact. then things get messy. 

every one of his “business” meetings over the two weeks you’re gone ends in bloodshed. sylus kills everyone who looks at him wrong. everyone that tries to lowball him. everyone in his fucking way. 

he’s disheveled when you arrive back at the base. you’re not much better—stress and fatigue etched into your features. you trudge inside, dropping your bags by the door, and when you blink, sylus is suddenly right in front of you.

and you see it. the fear in his eyes.

everything he refuses to say is written there—in his gaze, in the tension of his body, in the way his breaths come uneven, almost staggering, like he’s been holding himself together by sheer will alone.

“where were you, sweetheart?” he whispers, hands cradling your face as he tilts it up to meet his gaze. “when you said a few days, i didn’t think you meant sixteen.” it’s meant to be a joke—but it doesn’t sound like one. not even close.

“the mission ran longer than we anticipated, and there was no cell signal, so i couldn’t get back to you. but i’m okay…” you smile, teasing despite the way the usual light in your eyes has dulled just a bit. “don’t tell me you were worried about me. did the big, bad leader of onychinus really not have anything to keep him busy while i was gone?”

you probably shouldn’t have poked fun. not when he’s this raw. not when he was worried half to death, haunted by the thought that he might never see you again.

it’s exactly how you end up folded in half, knees touching your ears while he fucks into you. it’s not too fast, not too slow, but it’s at the perfect speed. his fat cock fills you to the brim and stuffs your hallowed out stomach. you’ve missed this stretch, this undeniable full feeling and he’s certainly missed you. you can tell in his expression… his words. 

sylus is finally being honest. 

“you can’t just leave me like that, sweetie,” he pants, hands on both sides of your head. “you don’t even know what i’ve been through these past two weeks.”

you feel every ridge of his cock, every inch of him and it drives you up a wall. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

“i can’t be good without you… i won’t feel whole without you,” his breathy whispers fan across your face as his red eyes bore into yours. his right eye burns brighter than the darkened left, and you can’t help but stare. “i am nothing without you, my love.”

you inhale sharply—partly from the way his thrusts grow deeper, rougher, like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. and partly from his words. from the rawness of them. the desperation. you’ve never heard anything like it before—never from him.

“sylus…” you whimper. 

“i need you.” he says, repeating it like a mantra. he needs you to understand it. “i need you… i need you. if i could keep you in this bed forever, i would. i never want you to leave again.”

that’s when he loses it. the pace of his thrusts pick up and he’s ramming against your cervix, eliciting a sharp sob of pained pleasure from you. he’s completely out of his mind, fucking you sensless like you’re some type of rag doll. 

“you’re not allowed to do that anymore.” he grunts, eyes struggling to stay open as they keep rolling back in the delicious pleasure. he could just fucking die in this pussy and he’d be so content. as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t care what happens. “you can’t leave, i won’t allow it.”

your garbled words lace in your words, “i won’t—i-i, i won’t leave—fuh, fuck, sylus—” you promise, your nails digging into his back, leaving red crescents in their wake. “please, s-slow down.”

“shhh, baby, you can take it—you take it every time. so pretty and perfect, all for me.” he presses his forehead against yours and stares at your screwed shut eyes. “my perfect girl.”

you tighten around him, and the sound that tears from both of you is raw and guttural. it’s almost too much—so intense and so good— you can’t help but melt beneath him as your orgasm crashes over you, powerful enough to leave you shaking. sylus keeps whispering about how much he needs you, voice breaking in your ear while you convulse and whimper under him.

he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as your legs wrap tight around his slender waist. he comes deep inside you with broken groans of “i love you” against your mouth, hips stuttering as ribbon after ribbon spills into you.

afterward, he collapses on top of you, cock still hard, but exhaustion has claimed you both. so you just lie there—bodies pressed together, breath slowly evening out, your mixed cum leaking from between your thighs as the moment settles around you.

“i’ll never let you out of my sight again.”

#RAFAYEL — SHE

you’re not usually like this on first dates. you don’t let them take you back to their place and eat you out till you’re in tears. you don’t usually let them fuck you till you pass out. you prefer to take things slow, steady. really get to know someone inside and out before you even let them kiss you. you’re the opposite of easy—you’re hard to get, practically unattainable, but tonight is different.

you’re first date with rafayel makes you feel away you’ve never felt before. it’s like he’s known you for years. he’s already aware of all your ticks, your mannerisms and the things that piss other men off? he welcomes them. he calls it cute. he finishes your sentences like he’s reading your mind. he guesses what your order is at the restaurant you brought him to—your favorite ever—and he guesses correctly. you call it a coincidence, saying he’s perceptive. observant. he’s just into you.

if you were a little less oblivious, you’d know it’s more than a coincidence. you’d know that rafayel has been watching you since long before you met on the stupid dating app. the first time you met wasn’t on bumble. no, you met a year prior—well, he met you.

you’d spilled your coffee outside a cafe next to the art gallery that housed his paintings. you were beautiful. more than that—you were perfect. the way you cursed under your breath. the way you apologized to the asshole who bumped into you in the first place. he was captivated. it was almost like he’d known you in another life.

that’s what had him following you. it was innocent at first—just watching you from afar. you happened to be a regular at the cafe and he took note of that. he’d watch you for hours type away at your laptop, drank in the way you’d gnaw at your lip and the pinch of your eyebrows every time you got frustrated, or every time your lips would twitch when you would find something amusing. 

innocent. 

then it turned to something more than that. rafayel found himself following you home. watching you change in your window, blinds wide open like you want someone to catch you. 

and then he got addicted to it—watching you. following you. memorizing your schedule and routine. it made him hard to watch you. to think about what you smell like… what you taste like… how pretty you’d look crying on his dick. every night he’d go home to his place, wrap a hand around his leaky, aching cock and stroke himself to the mental image of you he’s burned into his brain. 

he barely slept. he’d stay up late into the night and paint you. he’s memorized you. every curve. every strand of hair on your head. every feature—they’re all filed away in his brain. 

his last straw comes when he watches you go on date after date, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. thanks to him, you’ve never gone on more than one date with the same man. they’re nobodies. wastes of space. he’s looked into every single one of them, and not one is worthy of you—so they don’t deserve a place in your life.

he knows you’re meant to be with him. he’s always known. and that’s when he finally takes matters into his own hands and downloads the dating app.

that’s essentially how you end up in your current position, throat hoarse from all your screams of pleasure. you’re overstimulated, pussy sore, but he keeps going. fucking you into oblivion. after all, he’s waited for this for a whole year.

your ankles rest on his shoulders while your hands cover your sweaty, heated face, his cock fucking you fast and deep the same way it has been for the past hour and a half. 

“raf—hgnh, rafayel! p-please, oh my god,” you cry, your voice breaking as you beg for mercy. “i can’t take it—please, please.”

he groans, length twitching inside of your sensitive pussy at the sound of your pleads. “but you feel so good, cutie,” he responds breathlessly, a teasing lilt in his voice before it drops—lower, darker. “do you know how long i’ve waited for this?”

you whimper, panting out a confused, “wh-what? you waited all night for this?”

he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. it sounds strained. almost pained. he shakes his head and leans in to whisper, “no, silly girl. i’ve waited months for this.”

your eyes shoot open and you look into his. the twinkle that was there when he’d introduced himself to you earlier this evening is replaced with thunderstorms. newfound darkness. it makes your body lock up in fear, pussy tightening around him. this brings a wicked smile to his face. 

“don’t be scared, pretty. i’ll take good care of you.” he swears, wrapping his hands around your ankles, fingers so gentle on your skin. “i’m the only one who can take care of you… the only one who deserves you.”

you’re not sure why your fight or flight never kicks in. it should—everything about this is fucked beyond belief. your date—the one you’ve only just met—knows you. has known you for months. maybe longer.

but your stomach still flutters. maybe you like it. like whatever… this is. maybe you’re drunk on the feeling, but his words only sink deeper, winding tight and turning you on even more. your back arches, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat, loud enough to mix with the wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours.

“you like that, huh?” he taunts. “‘m gonna make you fall for me. take such good care of you that you’ll never be able to think of anyone but me ever again.”

“oh, fuck,” you sob. “oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. raf, fuck!”

“yeah, go ahead and cream my cock again, princess. it’s yours. i’m yours.” the pace of his thrusts quickens, each snap more frantic than the last, and his words hitch on a breathy whimper—an unmistakable sign that he’s close too. “i’m all yours—and you’re mine now. i-i won’t let you get away that easy.”

the knot in your stomach snaps, exploding all at once as you drench his cock in syrupy arousal. your body jerks uncontrollably for the nth time, thrashing beneath him, and he’s the only thing keeping you steady—anchoring you as it rips through you.

“i’m gonna cum inside—i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum and make you mine,” he doesn’t ask—it’s a statement. he’s just telling you, and you don’t protest. not even a little.

you take it. you let him fill you all the way up, feel his cock throb and twitch wildly and take every drop of cum, giving it a home in your cunt. he groans so prettily and you whimper at the warmth blooming inside of you. 

“you’ve always been my girl and now i have proof.”

#CALEB — STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

caleb is sick. so lovesick it’s twisted him into someone almost unrecognizable. he’s no longer the sweet boy from your childhood—no. now that caleb is yours and you are caleb’s, you’ve seen what lives beneath the cracks in his carefully kept exterior. he hides cameras in your apartment. he tracks you constantly. he’s planted a fear so deep in you that if you’re ever caught with someone else—friend or not—while ignoring his texts or calls, something very bad will happen.

in short, caleb would kill for you. you’re pretty sure he already has.

you love him—you love your caleb more than anything. he’s your sun. he treats you like a princess. he makes you feel whole. and yet, his actions terrify you. you can’t leave him, even though you know, deep down, you probably should. you should run. people have told you to run. simone, especially. but leaving would break both of you.

you make it a rule not to talk about caleb in your home when friends are over, because you know he’s listening. but when simone comes by, she can’t help herself.

“you need to leave him,” she says out of the blue and your blood goes cold. “[name], he’s basically holding you hostage—you only ever talk to caleb, i haven’t seen you outside of the association in weeks.”

“he’s not holding me hostage, simone,” you sigh, praying she drops it. you know she wants the best for you, but you don’t want to have this conversation right now. “can we not talk about him?”

“i’m just saying, [name], he’s sick. i think there’s something wrong with him and i just want you to be careful.” she says before grabbing her bag to leave. 

—

caleb’s eyes are red when you see him at your doorstep two hours later. you pull him in and you know what’s wrong… you know he heard your chat with simone. you know he’s in his head, spiraling out of control. 

“baby,” you murmur, pulling him by the wrist inside your place. “come on, come inside.”

he doesn’t even let you explain—the second he’s inside and the door is shut, he’s on you. his big, strong arms hoop around your body and pull you against him. your inhaling his natural musk and he’s buried in the crook of your neck apologizing profusely. 

“i’m sorry i can’t be what you need,” he says, shakily. the words breaking your heart as you run a soothing hand up and down his broad back. “i don’t deserve you, pips, but please… please don’t leave me. i need you.”

you embrace him tightly, “oh caleb,” your sad voice just barely above a whisper. “caleb, ‘m not—i won’t leave you.”

he pulls away from your neck, violet eyes turned dark purple when you see them for the second time. “promise?”

you nod wearily, but still, with no hesitation, reply with, “promise.”

and then he’s kissing you. soft at first, then it’s rough. so rough that it almost gives you whiplash. he’s kissing you, tongue roaming your mouth while he guides you to your bedroom, whimpering into your mouth. 

you’re thrown off when he gently shoves you against the bed. you stumble with a gasp and take in the shift in his demeanor. caleb looks mean. the boyfriend that was crying into your neck, begging you not to leave him looks nothing like the man that towers over you. 

he’s slow when he unbuttons his pants and when he pulls off his shirt. he stares at you, clocking every movement of your body— the increasing rate of which your chest rises and falls, the way there’s a sense of fear paired with excitement swimming in your pretty eyes—his eyes never leave yours.. 

“you understand that you can’t leave me, right?” he says, voice low. “that you can never leave me?” he says, stalking towards you slowly.

you nod and he shakes his head. “say it.” his sweet voice drips with dominance. “fucking tell me you understand.”

your breath hitches as his hands begin to strip your clothes off. “i-i understand. i won’t leave you.” 

“good girl,” he murmurs, continuing to work your clothes off till you’re in nothing but cotton panties. “you wanna know why you can’t leave?” he joins you on the bed, spreading your legs open and occupying the space between them.

you nod and he simply slips your panties to the side, gathers your arousal on the tip of his cock—effectively leaving you breathless in anticipation—before he presses into you, the fat tip of his length stretching you open. 

“because you need me.” he grunts, shoving himself inside of you and watching you crumble so pathetically. “your heart needs me, your body needs me… and this pretty pussy, baby? yeahhh, she needs me the most.” 

“caleb!” you gasp, feeling his cock deep in your stomach. “oh, fuck, caleb, w-wait— ‘s too deep.”

“it isn’t,” he growls, thumb catching your swollen clit. “nah, just fuckin’ take it, pretty girl. take this dick ‘n tell me you need it.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan. his cock pulls all the way out till his tip is the only inch that peeks inside your tight cunt, before he slams back into you, getting you addicted to him all over again. 

“oh my god, please!” you beg when he does it again and again at a monotonous pace. “please, please, caleb, i need it—i need, hah! i need it—need you, caleb.”

the sound that erupts in his chest is practically animalistic. his hand wraps loosely around your throat before his lips press against yours again. is sloppy, uncoordinated—a string of spit connects your lips when he pulls a few centimeters away. 

caleb leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he moves against you, each word timed with a rough, unrelenting thrust. “you. need. me.” his grip around your throat tightens, certainty ringing through him as he repeats it like a promise—or maybe… maybe it’s a warning. “you need me. you’ll always need me, no one else.”

tears prick in your eyes at the pained pleasure shooting through your body. he squeezes your throat tighter, watching your eyes roll in ecstasy. so pretty and so fucked out and so his. you’re perfect. he can never let you go. he won’t. 

how could he when you were meant to be together forever?

#XAVIER — ALWAYS BE MY BABY

you knew xavier was a little… toxic, to put it lightly, when you agreed to be his girlfriend. you knew he was possessive by nature—clingy, territorial, cruel to every man who so much as looked at you for a second too long. and you told yourself you were okay with it. you thought you were okay with it.

but lately, it’s gotten worse. suffocating. you feel like you’re shrinking inside your own life, like there’s no space left that belongs solely to you. every choice, every breath, every step forward is taken with xavier beside you—and it’s too much. it’s all too much.

so when you finally sigh, the words slipping out before you can stop them—“we need to take a break”—he cocks his head, confused.

it’s like a predator’s curiosity.

because… what does that mean? a break from what, exactly? from work? from the hunter’s association?

“what do you mean?” he asks, all wide-eyed and innocent—and that’s what upsets you the most about xavier. he doesn’t realize there’s something wrong with him. he can’t see that the way he feels about you, the way he claims you, has long since crossed the line from devotion into something deeply almost frighteningly abnormal.

you let out a shaky exhale and avert your eyes, sight landing on your feet. “i mean… i think i need to take a break from… you. and you need a break from me…” when you look up, his confused face is gone, replaced with a hardened glare. “we just need space to be our own—“

“no,” he cuts you off, voice nearly robotic when he responds. “no, i don’t need space—i need you. i don’t need a break… i just want to be with you.”

you knew this was coming. you knew he’d try to convince you that you were inevitable—meant and written into each other’s bones. so you sigh and choose honesty, even though it hurts him.

“i love you, xavie. i do. i want to be with you, but…” your voice wavers despite yourself. “…you’re scaring me.”

and something in his eyes goes dark. the familiar starlight you’re used to seeing there fades, thinning until it’s almost gone. “i…” he swallows, disbelief softening his voice in a way that unsettles you. “i scare you?”

“w-well, no—you don’t scare me, scare me,” you rush out, already trying to soften the blow. “you just… you worry me. i’m scared you’re too dependent on me. you chase off every man that looks my way, you’re everywhere i am—” your breath stutters. “it’s just too much for me.”

he stalks towards you and every step he takes forward, you take one back till your back hits his kitchen island. you gasp as he cages you in, arms on both sides of your body. he leans in, cobalt blue eyes swallowed by his dilated, black pupils. 

you try to hold your breath, but it’s useless—your senses are flooded with him. he’s all you can see, all you can smell. his scent rattles your brain in a way nothing else ever has, too much of it sinking into you like a drug. and no matter how hard you try to keep your thoughts clear, your resolve unravels when you feel arousal pool low in your belly, heat blooming as it glues your panties to your core.

“you’re all i need… and i should be all you need,” he says, voice dark as it drops octaves lower than its usual range. his eyes bore into yours, lips tugging up ever so slightly. “don’t be scared, angel. you know i’d never hurt you, right? you know all i want is to love you. i’d do anything to keep you all to myself.” 

it feels like he’s putting you under some kind of spell. you dig your heels in mentally, forcing yourself to remember why you came here—to stand your ground, to leave, to not fold.

you try to break eye contact, but he won’t let you. his fingers close around your chin, firm and unyielding, pulling your attention right back where he wants it. “no, look at me, honey.” he says, voice low. “answer me: you know i’d never hurt you, right?”

he makes you nod with the grip on your chin. “i-i know.” you reply, voice cracking and stomach jostling. 

“you’re safe with me. you’ll always be safe with me.” he says, a smile touching his lips. he leans it, nose brushing against yours as he says, “we’re going to be together forever and ever. i’ll show you.”

—

xavier wastes no time flipping you over and bending you over the island, your face smooshed against the cool marble. your leggings are pulled down and his cock is inside you, exploring every single inch of your cunt with no barrier. you can’t find it in you to protest for him to wear a condom when you feel fuller… when he somehow feels even bigger. 

drool seeps from your lips, pooling on the smooth surface as he fucks you senseless almost as if he has something to prove in his thrusts. 

he pushes deep into you, grinding his tip against your sweetest spot. “you feel me, honey? feel how i’m fucking you raw?” he grunts the words out, one hand on your waist as the other splays between your shoulder blades. “this is how we’re gonna do it from now on, got it?”

your eyes roll, pussy clamping tight around him. the veins of his cock brand themselves into your walls. he’s ruining you for everyone else. marking his territory. 

you can’t even respond—the only noises that can be pulled from you are garbled moans of his name and choked sobs. you’re a complete and utter mess, reduced to nothing but tears, drool and arousal. 

he resumes his thrusts, pulling out and ramming back into you. “fuck you raw, fill you with my cum and get you pregnant.” he whispers and it has your eyes shooting open, your stomach hallowing out and your cunt gripping him like never before.

“w-what?” your broken voice rings in his ears and it elicits a little moan from him. his cock twitches wildly inside of you, balls drawing up by the lilt of panic in your voice. “wait—wait, xavie, ‘m, hah! shit, ‘m not on the pill. y-you can’t cum i-inside!”

he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle. “don’t worry, honey,” he says, voice steady. “i’ll take care of you—of us. you just take it. be good and take it because it’s what you’re made for.”

and you do. you give in just like he tells you to, fingers digging into the edge of the countertop as your body betrays you. each movement pulls a sharp, helpless sound from your throat, clipped moans spilling out of you as easily as the warmth gathering between your thighs.

“i promise, this–this… will make us closer,” he pants, thrusts getting quicker as he gets closer and closer to letting go. he’s on the precipice of an orgasm, length throbbing, tummy knotting up. “just hold still.”

then you feel the sudden warmth flooding your pussy. he’s shooting into you, ribbon after ribbon of warm cum while he groans prettily in your ear. it triggers your orgasm, your body convulses as your walls spasm and drench his cock in your slick. 

“now we’ll be together forever.” 

You nod too fast, cheeks heating as you tug the blanket higher, squishing your thighs together, praying the movement looks causal.

“Are you sure? You’ve been… I dunno… weird tonight.”

“Weird?” you squeak. “What do you mean?”

Caleb turns fully toward you, and you stubbornly keep your gaze locked on the screen. Something shifts in the air under his attention, the room warming and suddenly shrinking two sizes too small. 

“Hey,” his voice is gentle. “Look at me.”

You swallow hard, finding your will, and turn your head. 

Caleb’s eyes are wide, but not with concern alone. They drift over the blanket wrapped around your body, then back to your face, soft but intent. 

“You don’t have to lie,” he murmurs. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not!” you defend quickly. “I could never be uncomfortable with you. I’m just… having one of those days…”

“Yeah?” His voice drops then, like he already knows. He shifts just an inch closer and it makes everything worse. “Y’know you don’t have to lie to me, pips.”

You close your eyes, exhaling. He’s not going to let it go.

“It’s just… that day during my cycle,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the blanket. “It… makes me all flustered and…” you trail off, never more embarrassed. 

“Can I help?”

Your eyes snap open. “W-What?”

“Can I help?” he repeats, already moving closer to crowd your space. Large arms brace on either side of your hips. His gaze goes hazy, hungry in a way you’ve never let yourself notice before. “Please?”

You choke on a gasp, the sound breaking into a needy whine. Your mind pulls in two opposite directions–your pussy throbbing helplessly at the offer while your heart twists at how much could change if you give in. 

The decision is made for you. Caleb sees the hesitation, but the desire in your eyes win. His lips crash onto yours.

You melt instantly. Of course you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him close while you pant into his mouth like you’ve been craving this for far longer than just tonight. 

Your heart pounds in time with the pulse between your thighs, completely soaking you through the dainty fabric. 

No more words. Caleb's hands do the talking, rough and impatient as they yank your shorts down your legs. His gaze immediately darts to your panties and he groans low in his throat. 

“Oh my… fuck…” he breaths, already shoving his sweats down. “Why didn’t you let me help you earlier?” 

“I–I was embarrassed.” You admit, failing against the cushions. 

“You never have to be embarrassed, baby…” the pet name curls around you, warm and possessive. “Never for this.” 

He settles over you, sweats pushed low but boxers still on. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself—just presses the thick length right against your soaked, cotton covered core. 

You gasp, the contact is electric, exactly what your pussy’s been begging for. Caleb dips down and captures your lips, the kiss turning messy almost instantly. You cling to each other, exhaling loud out of your noses to not separate. His hips drag, pulling sweet little whines from your throat.

Caleb’s lip part as a raw moan slips free, his lips still dragging wet kisses across yours. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and completely fixated, like he can’t believe this is real. The hard line in his boxers grinds against the thin cotton covering your heat again. 

Best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing this. But the forbidden edge tastes so sweet, and the simple, devastating fact that it’s him, only makes it more addictive.

You lift your hips aggressively, chasing friction when the head of his cock brushes your swollen clit through the layers. Your panties are drenched now, letting him slide easily, every drag spending sparks up your spine. The wrongness of it, the rightness of him, is intoxicating.

Your sweet, protective best friend, reduced to nothing but a man desperate for any form of contact from you.

“Pips…” he groans, pressing harder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

A wicked smirk curves your lips before you pull him back into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's full of a hunger neither of you wishes to hide. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, then your tongue soothes the sting. 

His large hands roam up from your hips to squeeze your breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you’d stolen tonight. You–all bare legs, skimpy panties, and his shirt–has him twitching in his boxers. 

“Fuck…” he pants, pulling back from the kiss, but never stilling his shallow thrusts. Conflict suddenly flashes in his eyes. “We…we shouldn’t be—ah!—doing this.”

You manage a sweet, dangerously innocent voice, slowly rocking your hips—just once, over his throbbing need. “W-Why not, Caleb? You’re just helping me. We’re…mmph…not doing anything wrong.”

He groans at the obvious lie, bracing himself on his forearms to suspend his weight over you. His muscles are wound tight, straining against his restraint, which crumbles with his next sentence.

“I need to… see you,” he grunts. “See what I’m doing to you, pretty girl.”

Before you can think, his trembling hand hooks your panties aside. The choked sound he makes at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy, goes straight to your core, then he’s slamming his still-clothed cock right over your directly exposed wetness.

His hips lose rhythm, jerking wildly in a desperate, uncoordinated rut. His cock throbs violently in his boxers, chasing a release he can’t hold back. The friction is filthy, intoxicating, your whimpers mixing with his wrecked moans. 

“So beautiful…” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.  “God, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The most captivating sounds spill from Caleb’s lungs, a mix of whimpers and guttural moans as a sudden warmth blooms and soaks the material of his boxers, seeping out onto your puffy core. He collapses forward, breathing ragged against your ear.

“Did you just–”

“Mhmm…” he hums, voice shaky but completely unashamed. “All in my boxers. I couldn’t help it.”

You huff a gentle laugh, still trembling with want, thighs slick and aching. “Wanna do it inside me now?” 

✮⋆˙— sylus

Your bare feet pad into your shared bedroom, steam spilling out behind you and curling along the ceiling like a lingering sigh. Droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your throat and between your breasts before disappearing beneath the collar of your robe. You tug the fabric tighter, shifting your hips as the restless heat returns low in your belly.

The bath had meant to ease the tension that haunted you all day, yet all it’s done is make you more aware of it.

To your surprise, Sylus sits propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black pajama pants, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a book open in his hand. He must have returned home while you were submerged. 

The second you step into the room, his gaze lifts slowly and pins you in place. The pupils in his eyes widen, something soft but hungry in his gaze. 

He knows exactly what today is. 

“Come here,” he says sweetly, patting the mattress beside him.

You oblige without hesitation, climbing onto the bed and crawling up the sheets before flopping onto your stomach with a muffled groan. The cool fabric against your flushed skin makes you shiver. 

“You didn’t enjoy your bath?” he hums, palm gliding over your robe-clad back in slow, soothing passes that only only makes the ache worse. 

“No, I did,” you mumble into the pillow. “I’m just…” your voice trails off, embarrassment tangling your tongue. The words feel too exposed, even to your husband. 

“I know.” His tone drops, husky and threaded with quiet amusement. “You’re so warm.”

The mattress dips as he shifts to settle behind you. Strong fingers slip to your front to find the tie of your robe and loosen it, peeling the damp silk from your shoulders. His lips follow the path of exposed skin, pressing hot, lingering kisses along your shoulder blades. 

“You even smell sweet today,” he murmurs against your skin.

Heat floods all over again, a slick gush seeping from your sweet hole and onto the mattress. A quiet whimper slips free as you lift your hips, brushing your ass back against the firmness straining beneath his pajama bottoms. 

“Sylus…” you breathe. 

“Yes, kitten?” his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs kneading the soft skin. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind, letting you feel the heavy weight of him exactly where you’re aching most.

“I need you…” you whimper, voice small. 

Sylus smirks, peppering kisses just beneath your ear. “And why do you need me?”

You're grateful your face is buried in the mattress because your cheeks burn instantly. His teasing is gentle, but relentless–he wants to hear it.  

“Because…” you swallow. “you know… ‘m ovulating.”

Sylus groans as he presses his cock deeper against you. Your robe is peeled down your arms, the silk whispering against your skin as it gives way before it’s tossed aside. Cool air kisses your heated skin, replaced quickly by the warmth of his body hovering over yours.

“Is that so, kitten?” his hands trails down your bare back, fingers tracing every dip of your spine. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

“Please.”

A kiss is pressed to your head before he lifts himself long enough to push his pajamas down. You feel him a second later, the gentle tap of his cock once against your ass, a bead of precum smearing onto your skin. The sensation makes you shudder, hips instinctively pressing back for more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with admiration as his hands spread over your lower back, keeping you still. “You’re so wet for me.”

His cock drags slowly between your slick folds, the glide torturously slow. You can feel every vein, every pulse, your pussy clenching around nothing as he coats himself in your arousal. Praise falls from his lips in soft murmurs—good girl… so sweet… so ready for me—each word sending another wave of heat through you.

When he finally lines himself up and begins to push inside, it's agonizingly slow. Sylus wants you to feel every stretch until you’re gasping into the sheets, fingers curling into the favor. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip while his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.

At first, it’s gentle. Deep, steady thrusts rock your body forward, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. But your soft, broken mewls and the way you push back against him, smearing your slick heat across his abdomen, wears down that compose.

Fingers dig into your hips, tightening until you’re certain the marks will linger. The pace quickens, each thrust landing harder than the last, the quiet room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin and the desperate hitch of your cries. He has you exactly where he wants you. 

Well, almost. 

His arm snakes around your waist while his other hand splays possessively across the top of your spine. The weight of him forces your body into a deep, supplicating arch that maximizes the depth.

There.

He grunts a low, satisfied sound as your walls flutter around him in reply to the new angle. “You like that, sweetheart?”

A round of sharp, breathless inhales answers his question. “Y-yes–hicc–y-yes!”

His hips surge forward violently at the sweet sound, losing any remaining gentleness.

“I’m so deep like this, kitten,” he gasps, each word punctuated by the heavy slam of his cock driving into you again and again. “Could stuff you so full right now…”

A needy whine spills from you, drool dampening the pillow as pleasure muddles coherent thoughts. “C-Could you n-now?” The question tumbles out with a desperate sincerity between gasps.

Sylus leans forward, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I could. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A shudder runs down your spine as he pulls you upright against him, your back flushed to his chest. Your head falls onto his shoulder, baring your throat. He takes immediate advantage, slowing his frantic rhythm to deep, punishing thrusts that make your toes curl while his lips work at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking dark love bites onto the supple skin. 

“You’re already so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he drags himself out to the tip before slamming back in, forcing a sob from your lips. “Imagine how beautiful you’d be swollen with me right—”

His hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm spreading wide as his fingers splay possessively over the skin there.

“—here.”

Your eyes flutter shut as the image floods your mind—round and full of him. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, slickness leaking down his length in a fresh rush. 

“Oh, you’d let me, wouldn’t you, kitten?” His hand glides upward, fingers curling around your jaw, firm but tender as he tilts your face back towards his. He needs to see you, need to see the honesty in your eyes. “You’d let me fuck a baby into you?”

The words ignite something molten in your core, spewing a string of moans from your lips. Your gaze locks with his, and the seriousness in his expression steals what little breath you have left. 

His grip on your jaw tightens just enough to keep your focus as his thrusts pick up again. “Words. Use them.”

“Y-Yes,” you sputter.

“Yes what, sweetheart?”

“Yes I’d l-let you—hah!—fuck a b-baby into me, Sy!”

A strangled growl tears from his throat. Your answer unlocks something feral in him. His pace turns ruthless, ramming his cock into you with one intention.

“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie,” he promises hoarsely. “I’ll make sure it—nngh—takes.”

He’s already throbbing inside you, completely captivated by the sheer thought of getting you pregnant. His lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as his movements grow sloppy with need. With a groan that rumbles through both of you, his tip slams against your soft cervix, releasing hot pulses of his seed. He doesn’t stop, rolling his hips in slow thrusts to ensure it took. 

When he finally stills, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, a dazed smile tugging at his lips. 

“We have to ensure it takes, kitten,” in a smooth motion he flips you both, letting you sit atop him. “Show me how badly you want it.”  

✮⋆˙— zayne

You watch the clock tick past, the small hand resting on the hour, officially signaling that Zayne is off shift.

Unfortunately, he still won’t be home for at least another hour. Judging by his lack of reply to your texts, there’s probably mountains of paperwork, last-minute calls, and traffic standing between him and this house. You’ll be lucky if you see him before nightfall.

You groan, slumping against the edge of the bed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. The one day you really need Zayne, and he’s nowhere in sight.

Your body aches with need, each pulse a reminder that ovulation has turned you feral. Heat blooms in your lower belly, soaking your panties, and you can't stop pressing your thighs together to try and relieve it. 

Your gaze flicks to the mirror. Your reflection stares back with flushed cheeks. You bite your lip and glance at the clock again. There is a solution. 

Zayne will probably be exhausted when he gets home. If you take care of yourself now, you can tend to him later. 

Fuck it. 

With zero ceremony, you kick off your shorts, the fabric of your soaked panties clinging to your pussy. Your cheeks burn an even deeper crimson as you push them down, peeling away the damp material and leaving your lower half exposed to the reflective glass. 

Desperation makes your movements sloppy. Your fingers dip inside your dripping cunt, index and middle finger instantly slick with your need. You twitch as they withdraw, then drag up to twirl them in gentle circles over your swollen clit, shivering at the surge of pleasure. 

A tiny moan escapes your lips, high and breathless. It's been a while since you’ve touched yourself solo—because you usually have Zayne. But tonight, he’s just an image in your head, and that thought alone is enough to make you squirm. 

You mimic his touch, spreading your folds and teasing your swollen bud just like he would. Stop. Start. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the delicious burning building in your core. 

“Z-Zaynie…” you whimper to the air, eyes flicking to your reflection, watching your pussy flutter around what would be his cock if he were here. Your thighs threaten to slam together, but you force them apart. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of your fingers' newfound rhythm. Pressure builds, threatening to boil over the edge. Your breath catches, lips parting in moans that are muffled but urgent. 

And then—

Your eyes snap open and they aren’t just seeing you in the mirror. Zayne is in the doorway, tie loosened from work. His expression is unreadable, but dangerously hungry. His arms are crossed, like he’s trying to seem annoyed—but you know that look. He’s definitely turned on and fully amused by your shame. 

“Shit—mmgh—Zayne—!” you squeak, yanking your hand back and slamming your thighs together as if that could hide the evidence of your crime. 

He steps in slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glasses on the nightstand. 

“It’s not—” you start, then stop, as you realize it is. “I’m sorry, I just… ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning hotter than ever. 

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he says evenly, taking a single step in the room. “Continue.”

You glance at him, confused. “But Zayne—“

“Did I misspeak?” His voice is unnervingly calm. 

“N-No,” you stammer. “B-But I don’t understand. I only did it because you weren’t here, and now that you are—”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He interrupts, voice low and commanding. “You were doing it when I wasn’t here. You couldn’t wait. So go ahead. Finish without my help, just like you intended all along.”

A shiver runs through you. His words are cold, but utterly thrilling. You stare at him, searching for a crack in his expression that isn’t there. 

Swallowing your embarrassment, you part your thighs again and place your hand back between your legs. The time you look at him—not at the mirror—as your fingers slide inside yourself. Your slick folds glisten under the bedroom light, fully displayed for him, yet he doesn’t even look. Zayne moves around the room, loosening his cuffs, rolling his shoulders, and going about his normal post-shift like you’re not bare and dripping a few feet away. 

The normalcy of it makes your stomach twist. He’s doing it on purpose, and every second he doesn’t look is a silent command to keep going. 

So, you continue. The pressure builds, unbearable now, and you bite your cheek to hold back a moan. “Zayne…” you pant, eyes fluttering shut as you buck helplessly into your own hand.

Before you can register it, he’s crouched beside you. His presence is sudden, the faint scent of soap and hospital antiseptic clinging to his skin. When his voice comes, it’s soft, but firm. “Are you going to come?”

You nod, breath hitching, unable to answer. His hand darts out, cradling your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he tilts your face towards the mirror.

“Watch.”

You whimper, locking onto your reflection in the glass. Your fingers move of their own accord, gliding across your puffy clit as you push yourself over the edge. Your body trembles and tips sideways, instinctively leaning against him as the waves roll through you. 

But he isn’t done with you. 

You can’t even fully recover, because suddenly he’s pushing off his pants, his cock springing free before he’s settling in right behind you. One hand tugs greedily at your shirt, dragging the fabric up and off so your tits spring free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air at the heat of his stare in the mirror. 

“C’mon,” he orders quietly, fingers digging into your hips as he guides you back. “Ride me.” 

You flush as you move to hover over him, still sensitive from your release. The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your entrance, smearing the sticky precum as you line him up with shaky hands. 

“You get so needy when you’re ovulating,” he murmurs, amusement threading through the lust as he fixates where you will be joined. His hips raise once to poke your entrance in impatience. 

“H-How do you–”

He chuckles under his breath, nipping your shoulder. One hand slides up your side to pinch your perked nipple, then swipe the bud of his thumb over it to soothe the sting. “You think I don't know my sweet girl?” 

You whine and shake your head before you sink slowly onto his length, a lewd moan spilling free as the stretch makes your thighs tremble all over again.

But the pace is too slow for Zayne. His fingers flex, then grip your hips and pull you down until you're seated flush against him, his swollen tip nudging your cervix.

“Is it better than your fingers, love?” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your spine as his hand smooths up your back, pressing lazy kisses against the overheated skin. 

“Mmm, y-yes. F-Fuck, yes,” you whimper, rolling your hips while your eyes stay glued to the mirror. Your breasts bounce with every motion, your juices slicking his pelvis. The obscene intimacy of watching yourself take him making your stomach flutter. 

A breathy, almost strained groan slips from him. Zayne’s grip tightens, just shy of rough, as his thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your lower back.

“That’s it… look at you,” he mutters, voice dipping darker, a little mocking. His cock twitches inside you as he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “I love how you feel like this. When your body’s begging for me.”

You clench at the words and ride him harder, chasing the friction. The mirror shows everything—your flushed face, his hungry eyes, the way he watches you fall apart for him.

“Next time,” he groans, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, never once breaking eye contact with your reflection. “You’ll wait for me.” His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Or at least send me a picture. Understood?”

Your pussy throbs in time with your heart, moans punching out from each snap of your hips colliding. “Y-Yes! I understand—!” 

“Good. Now come for me again.” 

✮⋆˙— xavier

Your eyelids flutter to the barely-there presses of his lips. 

It starts on your cheek, then trails to your jaw. You keep your eyes closed as he buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent before peppering a few more kisses along the sensitive line beneath your ear. His breath is warm and uneven as he savors you before you fully wake. 

Your body reacts subconsciously, shifting closer to him and giving a tiny shiver at the affection so early in the morning. If you had to guess, the sun hasn’t even risen. The world feels dim and soft, wrapped in the stillness.

You’re aware you lie on your side. Of the weight of the comforter. Of the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back. 

You’re also aware of his stiffness pressing against you—but it floats through your mind like a distant thought, something you register without fully grasping. 

“Good morning, angel.” Xavier’s voice is a hoarse rasp near your ear, signaling that he too just woke. His hips subtly shift, pressing him more firmly against you before he exhales. “You can go back to sleep, lovely.” 

You hum in reply, still drifting. His hand glides down the curve of your waist, slow and absentminded at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of your curves. The touch keeps you suspended in the blissful space between dreaming and reality—where every sensation feels warmer, heavier, and sweeter. 

You almost sink back under. Until his kisses don't stop. 

They linger longer now, and his fingers toy with the hem of your waistband as if testing whether you’ll stir. You inhale softly, something incoherent slipping from your lips when his warm hand slips beneath the fabric, his palm settling on your abdomen. His thumb traces patterns that send quiet sparks up your spine, each pass making your thighs tighten just a fraction more. 

You should wake. You should turn and face him, acknowledge the warmth that you are suddenly very aware is pooling in your panties—and fast. But you're so comfortable, so pliant against him, letting his touch wander while your thoughts drift like mist. 

“Do you know what today is?” Xavier murmurs, breaking through the haze.

Your blink your eyes open slowly, the dim room slowly taking shape in blurred outlines. You search your memory, but nothing important surfaces. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his hand stills, waiting. 

But your body seems to know before your mind does. There's a heightened sensitivity humming under your skin, every brush of his fingers sending a ripple through you that feels unfairly intense for how half-asleep you still are. 

Oh.

“It’s a good thing,” he continues softly, his words threaded with a gentle hunger. He finds the hem of your panties, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re extra sweet today… softer. Smell so good…”

Heat creeps into your cheeks even in your drowsiness, and your legs part slightly without conscious thought. The small movement draws a low breath from him, a quiet surrender to how much he wants you. His forehead rests against your shoulder as his hand dips beneath your panties. 

He finds you wet and murmurs out grateful praises into your skin, kissing you again and again like he can't help himself. His fingers instantly begin a gentle dance against your clit, making you arch back into him with a soft, sleepy moan. 

“I saw the calendar… that cute little app,” he pinches your bud softly, soothing the action with slow passes of his fingertip. “So you’re super sensitive for me. Especially in the morning.” 

You whimper, clutching your pillow as you let breathless sounds slip free, your body melting into the pleasure despite how foggy your mind still feels. Even though his touch only abandons you for a second, a needy whine escapes your throat. He pushes your pants and panties down just enough, the material pooling at your ankles. 

“Just stay where you are, star,” he says softly as the warmth of his body leaves yours. 

Xavier trails a path of wet kiss along the back of your thighs, unhurried and worshipful. You shudder but stay curled like he asked, fingers tightening in the sheets. When he reaches your pussy, finding it dripping and open, he lets his warm breath ghost over you first, making your hips twitch.

He inhales deeply, his hips shifting mindlessly against the mattress at your sweet scent. He doesn’t wait another second before his mouth finds you.

You grasp a handful of blonde hair, whining as his tongue licks a stripe from your entrance upwards, then settles to circle your clit. He continues to lap at your heat, devouring how syrupy you are today, sucking you into his mouth and burying his face deep between your thighs like he never wants to come up for air. 

“Feels s-so good, Xavi…” you moan, trembling. 

Your orgasm is already hovering. He groans against you, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the skin encouragingly. Each swipe of his tongue is a silent plea.

Come for me. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good. 

You break seconds after, squirming against the sheets as pleasure takes over you in warm waves. Pants leave your lips as he doesn't let up, his mouth relentlessly working you through the euphoric waves, and long after they pass. His face is sticky with your cum, dripping down his chin, making him look as if he’s the one who just finished. 

“B-Babe–” you cry out, trying weakly to push his head back. “Honey… ‘s too much…”

He presses one last lingering kiss to your puffy pussy before finally lifting his head. His cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along your thigh. “I couldn’t help myself.”

His hands are gentle as they turn you from your side onto your back. Your gaze drifts downward, catching the darkened patch of precum blooming against the front of his tented sweatpants. The sight sends a fresh pulse of heat through your still-sensitive body. 

He follows your gaze before palming himself through the fabric. 

“Think you can handle a bit more for me?”

✮⋆˙— rafayel

The car ride was silent. 

You knew you’d pushed Rafayel’s buttons a little too far at his gala tonight. But honestly… could he even blame you? 

He’d shown up dressed like sin in one of his sharpest suits, hair styled to perfection, eyes gleaming the entire duration of the exhibit. And all of it—all of it—on the exact day you were ovulating. 

Of course you were going to touch him.

Of course you were going to kiss him. 

Of course you were going to corner him beside a marble sculpture and slide your hand a little too low.

“Raaffff,” you drawl into the thick quiet of the car, leaning over the console with a pout that’s half apology, half provocation. “C’mon. Please don’t be mad. I said I’m sorry!”

Rafayel’s brows turn downwards, but there's a sparkle behind the annoyance. “Sorry for kissing my neck while I was speaking to that artist,” he replies coolly, “or sorry for grabbing my dick before I had to greet the commissioner?”

You smirk, entirely unrepentant. “Both. And you liked it! You were hard when I touched you.”

He scoffs, but the sound melts into a quiet laugh under his breath. He isn’t mad, he never really is, and when you poke his side to confirm, he squirms just enough to betray himself. The twitch at the corner of his lips is your victory flag.

You think you’ve won.

That is, until you get home. 

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he moves. There's no warning. One second you’re toeing off your heels, the next his arms are around you, sweeping you up bridal-style. A startled laugh leaves you as he carries you down the hall, his hold possessive and unhurried. 

His lips find yours before you reach the bed, and they are soft but insistent, pulling quiet gasps from your chest. The heat that’s been simmering in your belly all day flares hotter, burning brighter. 

You land against the mattress with a muted thud, sheets cool beneath your back. “Undress,” he tells you, already slipping open the button of his shirt with graceful fingers. 

You obey immediately, giggling as you shimmy out of your dress, fabric clinging to your hips before you kick it away. Anticipation hums under your skin like static. 

Rafayel, meanwhile, is still mostly dressed. His shirt hangs open just enough to reveal his toned skin, a teasing glimpse of chest that makes your fingers itch for a touch. You reach for him instinctively, only for his hand to close around your wrist mid-air and guide it back to the mattress, pinning you there.  

“Raf–”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you have your way after tonight?” His voice is playful, smug, and dripping with amusement. The smirk he gives you is pure trouble. “You’re so cute.” 

You squirm, a fresh gush of warmth gathering between your thighs. “But… I said ‘m sorry.”

“Oh, I know you did, cutie,” he hums, leaning down to brush a single kiss against your cheek. Then your jaw. The column of your throat. Each one is soft and savoring.

“So then…” you mumble, tilting your neck to give him more space. “Why are you still dressed?”

His lips curve against your skin as he trails lower, the  gentle presses of his lips turning wetter, slower. Goosebumps rise across your body when his hands find your thighs, and ease them open for him. 

He pauses, eyes settling on the soaked material clinging to you. His thumb presses against it, just once. You squeak, and arch into his hand, sensitivity dialed painfully high today. He chuckles, rubbing your pussy through the panties in lazy strokes, up and down, just enough to make you ache. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” he coos, but his eyes are dark. “But you teased me all night… so I’m getting my revenge.”

You gasp when his thumb circles firm over your swollen clit through the fabric. The friction is electric and not enough all at once. 

“Raf… please, this isn’t fair,” you whine.

“Not fair?” he juts his lip in a mock pout. “I didn’t think it was very fair when you were handsy in public.”

Before you can argue, he hooks a finger under your panties and slides them aside, revealing your dripping cunt. He huffs in amusement, admiring the slick evidence of your arousal like its art he curated himself. (He did)

His finger drags through your folds, collecting the sticky mess. He spreads you open, glides over your clit, circles your entrance, but never lingers enough to satisfy. 

Your thighs twitch. Your hips lift. Your fingers clutch the comforter.

It’s torture. Sweet, earned, torture. 

And just as a complaint forms on your lips, his fingertip settles over your clit and begins slow, gentle circles. Pleasure sparks outward, instantly bowing your back and spewing moans from your lips. Every sensation feels amplified. 

“R-Raf… Raf, fuck—baby,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter. 

Rafayel laughs softly, continuing to play with your pussy, admiring how much more wetness gathers at his touch. “You close, cutie? Gonna come?” 

You nod in rapid succession. “Y-Yes…yeah ‘m gonna—“

His fingers stop. 

The sudden absence makes you gasp, blinking your eyes open “W-Why did you stop?”

He lifts his gaze to yours, expression all polished mischief and arrogance. His thumb is still resting maddeningly close to where you’re throbbing. “Did you really think I was going to let you come?” 

Your frustrated whine only makes his smile widen. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, taunting kiss. 

“After the way you behaved tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re going to beg for it.”

His fingers return before you can even form a reply, and they're faster this time. The slick sounds of how wet you are fills the room. What started as gentle coaxing turns into purposeful rubbing that makes you fist the sheets and sob out. When your legs try to close, he simply prises them back open. 

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispers. “All worked up and needy… yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” His thumb presses just right, drawing a broken sound from your throat. 

“I do… f-fuck I really do…” you whimper, hips chasing him without shame. The pressure builds once again, and just as the waves begin to crest, he stops. 

The absence is devastating. His words following are cruel. 

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing his slick finger against your thigh. His cock strains against his pants, a visible twitch he pointedly ignores as he keeps his attention on you. “You’re soaking our sheets.” 

You lie there in the heat of it, trying to gather yourself. When your heartbeat finally slows enough to think, he starts over. Fingers dragging through your warmth, starting slow, then faster. Each time he brings you near the edge, letting desperate cries and whimpers that you’re close spill from your lips, he stops again.

By the fourth time, tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, pleas dissolving into half-formed syllables that barely resemble words.  

“R-Raf… p-plea–suh–ahh–” his fingers slide into your gummy walls. 

“Think you’ve been good enough?”

“Y-Yea–mmgh–yes–!” 

He exhales through his nose, finally satisfied. His fingers curl to your sweet spot, and this this they don’t pull away. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. “You can come.” 

"I'm guessing the game didn't go the way you wanted?" You allow a hand to rise, fingers scratching at his head in an effort to comfort him despite your own desperate state.

He simply groans and presses a kiss to your neck and you just about died. Your chest tightened with need, the knot coursing through your body until it landed between your thighs and you were aching with lust. 

You laugh to keep yourself from groaning, spread your legs just a little wider so he could get more comfortable and so you could feel him better. 

"Lost by one point, it's not fair. I carried that team, it was basically me vs eleven people." 

You knew how passionate Zuko was about soccer and how talented he was. You both had been signed up when you were children, though you had switched to gymnastics only a few months later. He was competitive and to lose was a huge blow to his ego. This wasn't the first time he came to your house after and cuddled you.

You knew this was completely platonic, nothing romantic about it but a small part of you couldn't help but grow hopeful because despite the many cuddle sessions you shared, he'd never kissed you before. Was his anger clouding his judgement or was he trying to tell you he felt the same but couldn't say it?

Childhood trauma made it hard for him to communicate his feelings. 

"That's still a win for you, but I get it. Wanna talk about it more?"

You take in a sharp breath when he lifts his head and stares down at you, his huge frame covering yours as he shakes his head no. 

"Can you wash my hair after I shower?" Zuko's golden eyes burn into yours and your stomach is breakdancing, heart skipping a few beats as your pupils widen to truly take him in.

The way his hair fell into his face, half covering the scar on his left eye that he had gotten when you were young, skin tanned and glowing from the summer sun creeping through the curtains. 

He was so beautiful that it was unfair. You wanted him to be yours, to pull his head down and finally kiss his lips, especially when he let his eyes drift to yours. You watched his throat as he swallowed and adjusted his body above you, his hips digging into yours. 

"Yes." You whisper and swallow, annoyed that your cold wasn't letting you fully enjoy this moment, suddenly self conscious of the fact that you had tissue shoved into your nostril and probably looked ridiculous. 

"If you don't squish me to death first."You awkwardly laugh and squirm when he doesn't respond and only tilts his head and smiles. 

"Hmm, deal." Then his body is leaving yours and you regret ever saying anything. 

You washed his hair that night and cried yourself to sleep later when he mentioned he had a date to get to, someone Sokka had introduced him to, but he would text you later to let you know how it went. 

The next "cuddle" session had nearly gone your way and you wanted to curse your friend's entire bloodlines for ruining it. 

It was a month after his game and you were sitting on his kitchen counter, idly scrolling through TikTok as Zuko moved about the room making dinner. You'd occasionally lift your head to sneak a look, pussy throbbing every time your eyes caught the way his compression shirt hugged his chest. 

Zuko wasn't disgustingly ripped, you know, like how some guys were all muscles and veins to the point where it was unattractive. He sported the perfect athletic body thanks to years of soccer, wide shoulders with a narrow waist and his muscles were well defined. 

He was perfect in every way possible. He had even decided to let his hair fall loose when you complained that he always had it up and it would start to knot if he didn’t free it every once in a while. 

Twenty minutes pass with you scrolling and Zuko humming a song while standing over the stove. When a video popped up with that trend of girlfriends seeing if their boyfriends would grunt when lifting them up, you were instantly jumping down and practically skipping to your friend with a devious smile on your face.

"Zuuukooo. Hey, can we try this trend?" You stand to his side and shove the phone up into his face. 

He squinted as he looked at the screen, shaking his head as he smiled and then sighed. He lowered the temperature on the stove and dropped the mixing spoon on the counter, turning to you and before you could process what was happening, you were in the air. 

Zuko had lifted you without grunting and your face burned as you gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, though his grip on your waist was tight enough. Both hands handling onto each side of you, your feet well off the ground as your legs dangled. 

Zuko hadn't broken a sweat, pulling your body closer and your legs wrapped around him out of pure survival instinct. You pulled your face back to stare at him, words lost as your brain turned into goo. Your friend was a different kind of beast for sure. 

"Now what? Do I get a treat for passing?" He's smirking and you wanted to throttle him, his words vibrating through your body and making your cunt clinch against nothing. 

He had no idea the effect he had on you.

"I don't have anything to give you." You whisper and gulp when his eyes travel to your lips, just as they did last time. Butterflies were clogging your chest and stomach, your brain short-circuiting.

"Hmm." He pulls your body closer, hands moving to grip your ass for better leverage. "I'm sure there's something yo-"

A loud knock came from the front door and was followed by the sound of four giggling voices. Toph yelling for Zuko to open up. The man holding you grunts and rolls his eyes, lowering you and not moving his hands until your feet are back on the ground. 

You were going to kill them violently. 

As your friends all pile into the kitchen and Zuko resumes his cooking, you both can't help but steal secretive looks at each other. Well not that secretive since Katara noticed, because of course she did. You were too flushed, too lost to your thoughts to see the way she'd look between you both with a knowing smile.

You went home beyond horny that night, your rose toy turning on the moment your body hit your bed, a certain 6'2 soccer player on your mind. 

The third cuddle session that changed things between you two was after your date went horribly wrong. The guy was terrible, he only talked about himself and refused to let you get a word in unless you were responding to something he said. 

He was far from your type and when you apologized and told him you didn't think this was going to work, he fumed and told you that you weren't his kind of girl anyways. That hadn't bothered you but what did was the way he stormed out and left you with the bill. 

You covered it but it would hurt your pockets since you were a broke college student with rent to pay and didn't have money to waste on losers like him. When Zuko had picked you up and you told him what happened, he apologized, offered to refund you for the bill and asked if you wanted him to find the man and make him apologize for disrespecting you. 

You were fuming in the passenger seat of his car, arms crossed against your chest as you glared out the window watching the lights and buildings fly by. 

"No, please just take me home." 

Zuko only nods, tightening his hand around the wheel as his own anger burns hot. You could practically feel the heat simmering off his skin, his jaw taut as he focused on the road ahead. You’d think he was the one that was slighted.

When he pulled up outside your place, he killed the engine and looked at you, his eyes full of concern for the girl he had grown up with. "Want me to come in with you? I can stay until you feel better." 

You were nodding without hesitation and thanking the gods that you had your own place outside of campus. 

That's how you ended up with his chest pressed against your back, arm tightening around you as he pulled you close and tangled his leg with yours. Best friends cuddled all the time right? There was no reason for your body to be reacting the way it did, stomach twist as you felt his semi-hard cock press into your ass. 

This was totally normal, even if your face turned into a furnace and your heart told you this was in fact, far from normal. You’d never cuddle with Sokka or Aang like this. 

"You didn't deserve that, I'm sorry love." He breaks through your thoughts.

The way he whispered your nickname sent shivers through your body. It was something he had called you for the twenty plus years you knew each other but now that you were sure you were in love with him, it made the name feel too endearing. 

You flipped in his arms so that you could see his face and the sight of him laying in your bed was so domestic, you could feel your body start to melt. The way he stared at you, mouth slightly open, eyes holding your gaze while his hand moved to your hip and rubbed circles on your exposed skin. 

"Do you think I'm unloveable?" You whisper. The question wasn't because your date didn't think you were his type, more so that he had stormed off and left you sitting there like you meant nothing. 

Zuko glares, seeming annoyed that you were letting some loser ruin your mood this much. It was unlike you but he had no idea that as your feelings grew for him so did your insecurities. 

How could he ever want a girl like you? You didn't seem like someone he'd be attracted to based on his dating history and you hated that it made you question your own looks. 

"How could you be unloveable when I love you?"

Your face flushed and you wiggle an inch away, eyes wide and heart stopping as he pulled you back. 

"You can't just say things like that, plus it doesn't count. We've been friends for so long that you have no choice but to care for me. Don’t tease me, jerk." 

He smirks and reaches down to grab your leg, lifting it over his hip so that he could pull you closer. You were sure your panties were ruined. 

He perched his head onto his hand and stared down at you, a loose strand of hair falling from his bun. He moved his other hand from your leg and used it to feel the skin of your cheek, fingers moving until they gripped your chin.

Had you died? That was the only explanation for this heavenly feeling you were experiencing, your entire body trembling under his stare as you lost yourself to his eyes. 

"Don't say stupid things then (name). It makes me irrationally mad." 

"But it's true. How could someone love me-"

"Shut up." 

The world tilted when he smashed his lips against yours, your body sinking embarrassingly fast into his. You locked your legs around his hips when he pushed you onto your back with his body placed on top of yours. 

You both moan into the kiss, lips parting when his tongue rubs against them asking for permission. Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer, neither of you coming up for air until you lifted your hips to grind against his hard cock and he was pulling away to gasp. 

"Fuck- don't do that love. I'm barely controlling myself right now, don't wanna disrespect you." And despite his words, his hips still grind into you and the way his cock rubs against your clothed pussy has you tossing your head back with a moan until he pulls you back. 

"Please? It'll make me feel better, I need you so bad Zuko." 

You blink at him with wide doe eyes and long lashes and his self control snaps as he pushes his lips against yours again, one hand grabbing your leg to keep it around his waist, the other pushed into the bed above your head so he could hold himself up. 

"If I do this, there's no going back. You'll be mine only, I don't share." 

Was this really happening right now? Zuko never showed any signs of being interested in you and while you were happy he shared the same feelings, you were genuinely confused, blinking up at your best friend with furrowed eyebrows. 

"Do you- I didn't think you were interested in that way." 

Zuko's chuckling, leaning down to place a kiss on your brow before pulling back to look at you again, golden eyes shining with amusement and lust. 

"Did you think I was cuddling you for the sake of it? I've been in love with you since I was eleven, I just didn't think you felt the same until that day in my kitchen." 

Tears well up in your ears and when one slips free, Zuko leans forward and kisses it away before taking your lips again, tongues tangling as you lace your fingers into his hair, pulling the hair tie loose and relishing in the way his hair falls free and into your face. 

Zuko's softly cradling your face, kissing you like he had years of lost time to make up for and you let out all the love you had locked away for years. All of it pouring into one kiss, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulder because he loved you back and as more than just a friend. 

He placed one more kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, licking and sucking hard so it bruises, hands moving to grab your covered tits. 

"Quit teasing.. Zuko, s'not.. fair." You managed to say between heavy breaths, chest moving up and down harshly as you fought back the urge to push him back and start riding him without any foreplay. 

"Let me take my time, love. Have so much to make up for." 

And you keep your mouth shut, biting your lip to keep from crying because this was a dream come true. Zuko loved you, he loved you and this wasn't just your imagination, far better than one of the dreams you so often had. 

After another minute he finally moves to sit back on his knees, not wasting any time and pulling your shirt off and then his. You gasp at being so suddenly exposed, not that it was the first time he saw you in a bra but never in this way. Not when he was about to fuck you and truly make you his. 

“Just stay still for me, alright? You can do that for me, right baby?” His voice is low and laced with desire, your eyes growing cloudy and mouth filling with drool at the sight of his bare chest. His sweats were hanging low on his hips and the way his dark happy trail disappeared into his red boxers had you soaked. 

You nod stupidly, spit forming at the corners of your mouth. He was doing something to your brain because you couldn’t speak, just stared at the man like he hung the moon. 

Zuko chuckled, a hand coming down to rub your cheek. “Good girl. Spread your legs for me, love.” 

You do as he says, your head spinning and a lump forming in your throat when he pulls your skirt and panties down at the same time. The way he stared down at you after tossing your clothes aside had you a little self conscious, hands going to cover your body but Zuko was faster than you, grabbing it tightly and tossing it aside with a warning glare. 

“You’re perfect, stop fucking hiding frome me.” 

You almost cry again but swallow your tears and the lump in your throat, choosing instead to focus on the ache between your legs. 

Zuko drops to his stomach and moves until his face is between your legs, grabbing them to place on his shoulders, staring up at you with a lifted brow. “Don’t be shy, wrap your legs around me.” 

Holy shit, there was no way he couldn’t see the slick dripping down your legs and onto the sheets because you were drenched. His words send you into a frenzy as you do as he says, legs tightening around his head as he smirks and places kisses onto your thighs. 

“I’ll show you exactly why I’m much better than those scumbags you keep wasting your time with. Hold onto me, baby.”

He grips your hips and pulls you further down the bed until your cunt was directly on his face. 

Zuko starts by licking a long strip from your creamy hole to your clit, moving the pink muscle in circles around the sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. 

“Oh fuck! Zuko, haah that f-feels so good.” Your stomach tingles and tightens as you reach a hand down into his hair and move your hips against his tongue. 

You were growing impossibly wetter, your slick covering Zuko’s face as he went to work, groaning against your pussy as he devoured you as though he hadn't eaten in days, all but inhaling you. The way he was so completely lost to you had your stomach tightening all too soon as you cried out, hands tightening around his hair. 

“Don’t stop, m’gonna cum.” You cry, literal tears sliding down your face as you tossed your head to the side, face digging into your pillow. Your chest moving too fast as you tried to catch your breath, trying to stop yourself from cumming too fast. 

Zuko didn’t stop, in fact he added two fingers to prep you further, instantly curling them to hit that spot that had your squishy walls tightening around him. 

You were blindsided by the sudden added pressure and thirty seconds later, you were crying out as sweat beaded on your forehead, pulsing pleasure ripping through you as your orgasm stole your breath. You had never cum so fast in your life, body shaking as you felt every layer of pleasure, Zuko licking and sucking you through it, hand pushing down on your stomach and you swear you came a second time. 

You were in bliss as your legs fell back onto the bed, the dark haired man making his way back up your body. He stared down at you as you attempted to catch your breath, face proudly glistening with your juice as he rubbed at your shaking thigh. 

Your eyes were slowly shutting, brain rattling from the intense orgasm your best friend had just given you. You should have told him sooner, shouldn't have wasted time secretly obsessing over him when you could have been getting your pussy eaten like that. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” His voice was teasing and you opened your eyes to frown at him despite how heavy they felt, still finding it hard to believe that he was above you like this. 

He was so beautiful, reaching to pull down his sweats and boxers, just enough to free himself and holy fuck, your best friend was packing. Drool started to seep from the corners of your mouth at the sight of his hard cock teasing you, the tip red and already leaking pre cum.

When you went to sit up in hopes of tasting him, he pushed you back down and when you went to sit up again, he kept his hand at your shoulder to hold you down while he grabbed his cock with his other hand and started dragging his hand up and down, grip tight as he pleasured himself, thumb rubbing at the tip and using his pre as lube. 

“Not this time, love. Do you have condoms?” 

Your heart dropped. This was really, truly happening. “Y-yes, but you don’t have to wear one. I’m- ahem, I’m clean and I’m on birth control.”

He bites back a smile, chest shaking as he silently laughs. You want to die from embarrassment. 

“Do you want me to wear one, baby?”

You didn't, which was unlike you since you never let a guy sleep with you without one, but this was Zuko and you wanted to feel every inch of him, had waited years too. Something primal settling in your chest at the though of him fucking you raw.   

So you’re shaking your head no and gasping when he rubs the tip against your wet folds. “Thank god. Need to feel how wet you are.” 

You’re nodding like a fool, swallowing hard when he leans down and over you to catch your lips again. It’s soft this time, his lips lightly brushing against yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

He slowly starts to push in, giving you a second to breathe with every push you take until all eight inches of his cock is deep inside you, Zuko moving his hips in circles to get deep until he completely bottoms out. 

His lips are over yours as you breath in each other's air, your eyes squeezing from the sting of the stretch. Zuko was not only long but he was thick and it was taking a minute for you to adjust to his size. 

He was patient, littering your faces in sweet, gentle kisses until you bucked against him for more and he was sitting up to grab yours legs, looking down and groaning at the sight of his cock snug in your pussy, walls stretched around him. He pressed your legs to your chest and leaned over you again, slowly moving his hips and fighting the urge to start pounding into you. 

You were gripping him so tight, the first raw pussy Zuko had ever been in and he thought his stomach might explode with the way it was twisting. You looked so beautiful underneath him, taking his cock so well like you were always meant to.  

“Please move.” You whine, hair fanned out across the sheets you were gripping. 

Zuko didn’t waste any more time, already having done that since he first fell for you all those years ago. He was leaning forward again, hands connecting with yours as he placed them above your head. The first thrust he gives is gentle, just enough to prepare you as he holds your stare and slams into you the second time, the bed knocking against the wall as you cry out and close your eyes. 

Zuko would have told you to open your eyes any other time but the way your pussy was gripping felt so good that he was closing his own, mind still trying to process that he was really fucking you right now. 

All those nights he spent jacking off to the thought you were nothing compared to this, to the way you fit so perfectly around him, your pussy creaming and juices sticking to his abdomen as he started to pick up his pace. 

He didn’t want to rush this, but the way you were squirming beneath him, legs pressed to your chest as he pushed deep, had him pounding ruthlessly into you. His anger grew hot at the thought of you wasting your time with those losers, at them having you in this way.

He would show you that he was always the better option and then he’d have you ride him to show him how much better you were than those girls he was never really into. 

He leans further down to capture your lips again, cock dragging between your swollen folds as he takes you deep and hard. You were mumbling incoherently, ecstasy taking root in your body as Zuko gripped your throat and moved his hips in circular motions to rub against your clit. 

You were on cloud nine as you traded spit, the kiss all teeth and tongue. Your hips started to lift to meet his thrusts and the choked groan Zuko gave, boosted your confidence as you fucked each other. 

“So fucking tight, love. Best pussy I ever h-had.” 

You’re lost in each other, the only sounds in the room are your heavy breathing and the sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall. He takes you like that for a bit, your legs pressed against your chest as he basically folds you in half until he lowers them so he can feel your chest pressed against his. 

He grabs your chin and tilts your head up so he can kiss your lips again, only pulling back to stare at you. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He huffs out, a groan escaping when you tighten around him at the sound of the endearing pet name.

“Hi.” You whisper back, eyes hooded and your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“I love you. I always- ngggh, I always have.” Zuko confesses, grinding deep and your bottom lip trembles.

“I love you too, more than you know.”

And his eyes start to burn so he’s picking up his pace again, your jelly-like legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer to keep him inside of you. He’s so deep that you feel his tip kissing your cervix, your pussy gripping him tight, sucking up his cock and refusing to let go. He would stay there forever if it was up to you. 

“Not gonna last long, baby. Shit, you feel too g-good.” He kisses you to cover up the embarrassing moan that almost slipped out, eyes rolling back as the coil in his stomach tightened and threatened to snap. He could feel his balls growing heavy with cum, the human instinct to breed you filling his head. 

How beautiful would you look dripping with his seed? The thought had him spiraling, thrust growing erratic. 

Your nails are digging into his back, the burn doing nothing but adding to the pleasure he felt. You had no idea that one his kinks was pain, and the way your fingers left marks on his back had him spilling into you with a deep and long groan before he could stop himself. 

“Fuuuckkk, I’m cumming baby. Shit, I’m filling you so fucking much.” He cried out, hips snapping sloppily into yours, his crude words sending you over the edge.

You cum hard at the feeling of his hot seed dripping down your ass and onto the bed, Zuko never stopping because this was the longest orgasm of his life. His balls pulsed as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into you, sitting up quickly and pulling out when he remembered he wasn't wearing a condom. 

He threw his head back and sang songs of pure lust, gripping his cock and jerking himself as cum spilled from the tip and onto your stomach. It wasn’t a lot as most of it was inside of you, but the sight still left him breathless and hard. 

He collapsed on top of you when he was spent, his sticky cum basically gluing you two together. Neither of you say a word as you catch your breath, the smell of sex filling the moonlit room, the reality of what just happened hitting you. 

You’re frozen under him, heart skipping beats while your mind raced. Was this a spur of the moment kind of thing? He was just comforting you after a date gone wrong, he couldn’t have meant what he said.. Right? 

“Zuko-”

“I love you and I meant it.” He answered every insecure question racing through your head with seven words, knowing you all too well. It made your chest swell with love, the way he always knew what you were going to say before actually saying it as if your souls were connected. 

He was your person and you were his.

He lifts up to look at you again, a devious smile spreading across his face as he reaches a hand down and uses two fingers to rub at your swollen clit, slowly moving to your hole and pushing his cum back inside. 

“Make no mistake (name), you’re mine and I’m gonna fuck you until every ounce of doubt leaves that pretty little head of yours. Got it?”

The next morning you’re standing in the bathroom, body sore and brushing your teeth when Zuko comes in behind, still half asleep and wearing nothing but his boxers, his hair wild on his head. He stood behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder where your shirt hung loose. 

“Morning.” Neither of you say another word as he grabs his spare toothbrush he kept at your place, added toothpaste and started brushing his teeth. 

He used his other hand to sneak under your shirt and hold onto your boob, squeezing it tiredly as he stared at you in the mirror with half closed eyes and pulled you closer.

You never wanted him to stop cuddling you.

❦ lisa's note: i'd do crazy things to modern zuko, like I need him real bad.

꒰ as requested by the lovely @kiyara-blues5999 ꒱

art by internet famous, divider by @cursed-carmine ♡

NSFW

He is the munch of all time. He eats it for his own pleasure (he can and WILL cum just from eating his mate out). He gets so messy with it too. This man gets face deep in it, licking, sucking, and sniffing like you’re about to disappear. If you start squirming? He is holding you down by the hips and growling into your pussy. By the time he is finished, you’ll be overstimulated to hell and back and he’ll be sitting there with your cum all over his face wagging his tail like a dog that just got a treat (he did).

Valko has the most intense breeding kink ever. He can’t help it that he’s great with the pups in his pack AND that wanting pups of his own is basically wired into his DNA. Even if he never tells you explicitly, you’re going to know about it once he’s about to cum and whining in your ear about how his knot is going to keep you so full of his babies. Bonus points if he’s in his rut. (you will end up pregnant with quadruplets.)

Please dominate this man, he wants it so bad. The moment you overpower him even slightly in an argument or during a play-fighting match he gets bricked. He fully believes that his only purpose in life is to please his mate so take advantage of that. You don’t even have to be mean to him, just pet his ears or praise him while you ride him and he will cum instantly while he buries his face in your chest.