MGK Fan 🎸

- Chibs is a sweet lover, he’ll wake you with pancakes and bacon, he’ll do the laundry just to steal your dirty panties out of the load, and he’ll give you all the loving a girl could ask for.

- But Chibs also shows a different kind of love.

“Precious wee girl, come show your daddy some love, eh?”

- He’ll make you work for it. he’ll have you ride his dirty boots after a long day of fixing cars, and make you watch him palm himself with one hand while the other smokes a cigar, gifted by Clay.

“Well my hands shouldn’t be doing the work now should they? Come here little lamb.”

- He loves when you nuzzle your face in his crotch like a kitten. He smells, strongly like must, and it’s addictive.

“Sweet girl, can’t get enough of daddy, can ya?”

- You nod your head and close your eyes, the laces on his big boots rubbing against your clit just right.

- He also gets really worked up in the morning. You’ll be sleeping while he gets dressed for work and he just can’t take a second longer staring at your soft, supple body laying alone on the bed.

- You feel his rough hands pull at your hips, gently, but with enough force to have you stirring awake.

“Filip? What’s wrong baby?”

“Pretty lass, got a gift for you before I go.”

- In this case, his gift is a fat load in your panties so you remember him all day long.

- He’s not always so dominant though, sometimes he needs you to take charge.

- He’s nuzzling at your neck while you finish some research for the club up on your computer.

“What do you need Filip?”

“I need you bad right now my sweet thing. Just give me a rub, will ya?”

- His neediness is nothing new, but sometimes it’s overbearing.

“I need to get my work done.”

- He knows you’re lying, and he likes it. He appreciates what you’ll do to get him clawing at you, begging for your attention.

“Come on, just give me something. I won’t ask for anything else.”

- Now he’s lying. He always wants more.

“Please lassie, don’t ignore me.”

- He grabs your hand and moves it to his lips. He takes your middle finger into his mouth, teeth scraping down each knuckle. As he bites at your finger, he slides down from his seat on the couch next to you, to the floor, settled on his knees.

- You close the computer and look at him, a smirk pulling on your lips. How could you resist a man so pretty? You give him a tug on his long hair, he pulls your finger out of his mouth, and starts to work on pulling your sweatpants down.

“Thank you, thank you”

- He chants, kissing you down your legs as you pet at his hair, like a dog, finally getting noticed by its owner.

- Once your pants are down, he shoves his face in between your crotch. You let out a yelp of surprise as his hands move your legs over his shoulders. He’s buried between your legs, smelling you, pushing his nose where you need him the most.

- He’s groaning at your scent, grinding his hips at the couch beneath you, although it’s not giving him much.

- He lifts his head up and nips at the soft part of your belly while pulling your panties down. He quickly stuffs them in his pocket before spreading your sticky lips with his fingers, and taking a moment to admire you.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so lucky.”

- You let out a giggle before it’s interrupted with a moan, as his nose prods at your clit, and his tongue licks you up and down.

“Fuck, Fi.” You whimper out.

- He suckles at you, with a tender force, and huffs hot air onto your sensitive folds. You feel his teeth graze you and you shiver.

- Grabbing his hair, you shove his face into your warmth. The squelching noises of yourself and the whimpers from chibs, unable to breathe, have you rolling your eyes back, body jerking uncontrollably.

“I’m close, please don’t stop.”

- It’s a meaningless ask, Chibs is so addicted to you he couldn’t stop even if you tried to kick him off. He continued with the vigor of a starved man, and makes a mess of his face, rubbing himself up and down your sticky entrance.

- You feel your body tightening up, your orgasm right on the edge. All it takes is his tongue, tugging on the tight ring of your hole before you topple over, and let the warm feeling of your orgasm take over.

“Just like that, you’re amazing.” he praises.

- He rubs his hands up and down your thighs so soothe your trembling body. His shushes and kisses settle you down before your body slumps into the couch, and your breathing starts to slow

- After he finishes his praises and kisses, he stands and unzips his pants, his large cock leaking before your face.

In all your twenty nine years of life, you couldn’t quite remember a time when you weren’t head over heels in love with Jax. 

Jax Teller.

The man you would do absolutely anything for, and the man you were certain you would never be able to have. 

Ever since you were little, you’d been living life on the sidelines. So much so, you even felt like a side character in your own life. You put others before yourself, and you never cared what happened to you as long as it meant someone else was okay. 

It was a bad habit, a potentially dangerous habit, one that could get you very easily killed, and one that extended to even your mere acquaintances. People who potentially didn’t give a single fuck about you, were also the ones you’d put your life on the line for, because if you didn’t, you’d carry that guilt around with you until the day you die. 

You were trying to not be so damn selfless, but it was a tough thing to ask of yourself. You were the one who has to live with yourself, after all.

It was a habit that Jax fucking hated, and one he berated you constantly for. You lost count of all the times he’d gone off on you for not taking care of yourself, for not putting yourself first, and for doing something so reckless for someone like him or for someone that didn’t even matter. 

He’d told you over and over again to not worry about him and that he can take care of himself, and you tried to listen, you really did. But you had never been the person to just sit back and watch something turn to shit. You had to help, in any way you could, even though you’d be on the other end of a lecture from Jax for it. 

You’d known Jax your whole life, and you couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t more than a short drive away. He’d always been right there, so close by, but just out of reach. 

You were a few years younger than Jax, and your mom and Gemma had been close for quite a few years before they had you and Jax. Growing up, you only had your mom to rely on since your dad knocked her up then fucked off with a younger girl. That was fine, because you had a great mom and one who had put her own life on hold just to ensure you had a pretty decent one. 

Because your mom and Gemma were so close, you were often at her house since she’d watch you while your mom went off to work. Every day, five days a week, you’d be with her, and by default, with Jax. 

You and he would keep each other company while Gemma worked in the office at the shop, or you and he would mess up the living room and raid the fridge on the days you’d spend at their house. 

It was fun, because Jax didn’t think you were lame or annoying because you were close in age, with him only two and a half years older than you. Right from the start, even at such a young age, he’d been protective of you. You were the first girl in his life, of course he was bound to feel protective of you, but it also ran much deeper than that. 

You grew up together, you were navigating through life together, of course your connection was strong. 

As you got older, that connection only strengthened, and as the time went on, your feelings for him grew from just seeing him as your best friend to seeing him as something more. He was, without a doubt, your first ever (and possibly only) crush, but there was no way you could ever tell him that. Your friendship with him meant way too much to you to throw it away over a silly little crush. 

But that crush was just the beginning, because not long after you and he became teenagers, you realized you liked him a lot more than you should if he was just your crush. 

You were falling in love with him. 

All throughout school, you were often sitting by yourself or with a few of the other friends you’d made over the years, but you weren’t as close with them as you were with Jax. You also didn’t catch the attention of many guys, and you weren’t sure if that was because of something you were doing, or because they thought you were with Jax since he was never far from you. 

People probably thought you were either together, or that he was your brother with a different last name. The second one made you cringe, because the thoughts you were having back then of Jax were definitely not thoughts you would be having for someone you saw as family. 

But Jax was your family. 

He’d been there with you through every phase, every heartbreak, every celebration, everything you considered important, he’d been there. 

When your mom nearly had a heart attack when you bleached the ends of your hair then dyed it pink, Jax had been the one who went out and bought the stuff for you, then supported you once your mother found out. 

While she meant to make you feel stupid for doing it, Jax made you feel confident about it. He’d actually told you that you looked hot, and that was the reason you kept the pink ends for two years straight. You were sure he had just said it to make you feel good about changing up your appearance and that was it, but his words always had a much bigger effect on you than anyone else’s. 

All throughout school, you had to watch him flirt shamelessly with girl after girl, and every time he walked down the hall with one under his arm, you always had to look away or bury your head in your locker. It hurt to see him flaunt around his newest quest, when all you’d ever wanted was to be the one under his arm. 

You didn’t want to know what he was doing with these girls, but it was pretty fucking clear what was going on. He’d find someone he thought was pretty enough and see them for a few days or sometimes even as long as a week, then he’d move on. 

The amount of girls he’s had sex with was way higher than the amount of guys you’d been with. You’d only been with three guys during your high school years, and you weren’t one to sleep around much after you were done with school either. Your body count was definitely less than twenty. It was probably closer to ten. 

Jax’s, however, was high. You didn’t know the exact number and you didn’t want to. All you knew was that all throughout his Freshman and Sophomore years, he slept around a lot. 

When you entered your Freshman year, that was when he met Tara. His first real relationship, and his first love. While you wanted to be supportive of your best friend, it was hard to see them together, and it was hard to think about the fact that he felt for her everything you felt for him. 

But even though he was growing up and ended up dropping out of high school, and you were focusing on getting good grades so you could get a decent job and take some of the stress off your mom, you two stayed inseparable. Even though everything in the world was changing, you and he stayed the same. You were going in different directions, but he never let you stray too far. 

That was just the kind of guy he is. When he cares about someone, when he loves someone, he doesn’t play games. 

By the time you graduated high school, Jax and Tara had been going steady for a few years at that point. It sucked to see them all over each other, and it sucked to know that she was living your dream while you watched by the sidelines like you always did. 

But then she left, and you had to watch Jax go through his first heartbreak, just like how he watched you go through yours when you were twelve and lost the family pet your mom had since before you were even born. 

They were vastly different scenarios, but you were devastated when Uno, your mom’s first baby, died, just like how Jax was devastated when Tara left to go to Chicago. But he’d been there for you, and you were determined to be there for him. 

Throughout your 20’s, you watched Jax go from this scrawny, hot headed guy to the strong, brave and bold man he is today. You watched his bare skin become littered with scars and tattoos, and got to experience him blossom into the leader he is now. 

You weren’t all that familiar with Samcro and everything that made it up. Jax had done a hell of a good job at keeping that part of his life away from you, for reasons of which you had no idea. You knew it was a darker part of his life, a more dangerous part of it that had always been there since he was born. He’d been thrown into the biker gang life-style right out of the womb, and you kind of hated that, no matter what he did or what choices he made, he would always be bound to Samcro.

He was just too fucking loyal. 

But that was one of the things you loved most about him, and that love only grew as the years went on.  

And for the longest time, you were sure it was completely one-sided. You were certain that you were the only one feeling these things out of the two of you. The way your heart skips a beat every time you see him, the way you’re instantly put in a better mood whenever you’re near him, no matter how shit of a day you’ve had, the fact that you’d do anything for him, all he had to do was say the word. 

But, as you would discover, Jax was into you. 

Like, seriously into you. As into you as you are into him. 

It started out with lingering touches, holding your hand for longer than needed or necessary, but then that upgraded to him having his arm around your waist or your shoulder every chance he could.

You didn’t think much of the added affection, simply thinking it was Jax being Jax, but then you realized you hadn’t seen him with a girl or one of the crow eaters in quite a while. In fact, you were the only girl he’d been around for the last couple months. 

That had you perking up, and you weren’t about to just brush it off. You reveled in the attention, even though your guard was slightly up since you weren’t entirely sure why he was being so touchy with you now. 

It was like that for weeks, and you had kind of gotten used to the extra attention from your best friend, but one night at one of the parties that is constantly being thrown at the clubhouse, you were leaning against the bar and sipping on a beer when everything shifted. 

You’d been chatting with a girl Juice had been talking to when Jax walked into the room, and almost instantly your gaze met his. He’d only taken one glance around the crowded room before he located you, then he was making his way over to you. He greeted you with the usual hug, and you were grinning when you returned it, but then he pulled back and looked down at you for a few seconds. 

There was something different about the way he looked at you, and you couldn’t figure out what it was before he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss. It felt like the kiss itself was inevitable, like both you and he had just been waiting for it to happen. 

It wasn’t the first kiss you’d shared with him, though. No, it was the second. 

On New Years Eve quite a long time ago, you’d been complaining about never having kissed someone once the clock hit midnight, and how you’d never had a New Years kiss. Jax had been with you, listening to you whine and complain, and with an amused but fed up huff, he leaned over and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth, then pulled away with that smug smirk of his. 

It didn’t mean anything at the time, or so you thought. It was just Jax being your first ever New Years kiss, and you being one of his. 

Of course, you thought about that night more often than not for years after, but nothing ever came from it. Right after it was over, he went back to drinking his beer and telling you about what he’d been up to that day, and neither of you ever brought it up again. 

While that kiss had been great, amazing even, this one was damn near indescribable. It was like everything, every single thing in yours and his worlds fell into place. It was him solidifying the next stage of yours and his relationship and turning it into just that; a relationship. 

You and he weren’t just friends anymore, you were something more. 

After that night, that was how Jax greeted you. He’d pull you into his arms or place his hands on your hips, and he’d kiss you. You got butterflies each and every time, and you were sure you’d never get enough of him now that he was finally giving you a taste. 

He still kept you separate from the darker parts of his life, but he made up for it every time he was around you. Drinks at your place, dinner in his room at the clubhouse - which was really just takeout, but you loved it -, spontaneous make out sessions on his bed or with him sitting on his bike with you between his legs since neither of you seemed to be able to keep your mouths off each other. 

While you and Jax had always been touchy with each other, it was always friendly and platonic. Nowadays, you’d be lucky if you weren’t breathless by the time he drops you back off at your place or takes you to work. You are very happy you aren’t lucky enough for that, since this is what you’d been wanting for pretty much your whole life. 

Even though you and he hadn’t put a label on it, you didn’t need to. He spends so much time with you, you knew he wasn’t sleeping around or seeing anyone else, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to go searching for a man to spend the night with. 

You were exclusive, and that was the only label you needed for now. 

There wasn’t a strong enough word to describe just how happy you are at this point in your life. You have a good job, a steady income - so much so you’re even able to help out your mom, which is something you’ve been wanting to do since you were a teenager, and now you were in a stable and committed relationship with the one person who knows you better than anyone else in the entire world. 

Your life was pretty much perfect right now, and even though you weren’t superstitious or anything like that, you did wonder if that meant there was a downfall coming soon enough. But you didn’t spend much time dwelling on that or preparing for a potential crash. 

You were happy, and Jax was happy, and that was all that really mattered. 

You’d been spending so much time with him, and even though you and he had been pretty much inseparable since birth, it was like you simply couldn’t stay away from each other now. Like you’d both finally given in and stopped ignoring the chemistry that had always been there between you. 

You and he connected deeply on every level, and nothing had ever felt better than when the two of you were together. Of course, that meant the sex was really, really good. It was better than good, and even though you and he have only done it a handful of times since getting together, he was already the best you’d ever had.

You’d be a liar if you were to say you hadn’t thought about what sex would be like with him before. It was actually something you thought about quite a lot, but nothing you ever imagined came even close to the real thing. 

During the first time, he’d told you he was going to ruin you for anyone else, and he stayed true to his words. You didn’t want anyone else after him. You didn’t want anyone else ever again. 

And you were certain he didn’t want anyone else either, especially after the things he said to you when he was inside you for the first time, but not everything was as it seems. Or so you’d found out. 

You’d called Jax a few times and he hadn’t answered, nor had he replied to your texts. That was fine and wasn’t all that unusual since he was a busy guy, but you were just about to start your long day at work, and you wanted to see him before you were forced to be away from him for twenty four hours since you’d probably just crash as soon as you were home. 

It was early in the morning, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he was still sleeping, but you really wanted to see him, even if it was just a quick kiss before work. 

Instead of calling him later during the day, you went over to the clubhouse to see if he was up or if he was even there. It was a little nerve-racking since you’d never really been around the guys by yourself before, but you knew Opie, and thankfully he took you under his wing as soon as you got there and guided you away from the rest of the guys. 

He told you that he hadn’t seen Jax in a couple of hours, but he was most likely in the chapel with Clay, since the two of them hadn’t been getting along very much lately. That concerned you a bit, because while you’d grown pretty close to Gemma, you had never been close with Clay. All you knew was that he was the closest thing Jax has to a father, and that he was the president of the club and had made Jax his vice-president. 

After thanking Ope, he left you alone to wait, and while you didn’t want to hover, your attention was quickly shifting from the dark and rather out there decor of the clubhouse to the muffled voices that were growing louder and louder from behind the chapel doors with each passing second. 

You weren’t one to eavesdrop, God knows you’re great at minding your own business, but then you heard what sounded like a muffled exclamation of your name, and your ears perked up, and your head turned in the direction of the doors. 

Would it still be considered eavesdropping if you were almost certain you’d heard your name? Jax wasn’t one to talk about you behind your back, so whatever they were talking about had to be serious if you were brought up. 

You felt guilty as you stepped towards the doors, your steps slow so you wouldn’t make any noise. You didn’t want to invade their privacy, but you just wanted to listen for a few seconds, and if you had been mistaken and they weren’t talking about you, then you’d step away and let them continue whatever conversation they were having. 

“Come on, Jax, get your fuckin’ head out of your ass and focus on what’s really important here,” you heard Clay’s voice from behind the doors. They were open the smallest little bit, and the closer you got, the more clearly you could hear them. 

“What are you talking about?” Jax said back, and you could hear how frustrated he was getting. He gets riled up fast, and you’d received that tone from him more times than you could count, for whatever reason that may be. “You know I’m focused on the club. That’s the only fuckin’ thing I’ve ever been focused on.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jax,” Clay’s voice boomed around the room, and while you’d never really had a full conversation with the man, you knew that was the voice he uses when he’s fed up with something. “Don’t you fuckin’ lie to me. I’m talking about that fuckin’ girl you’re always around.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and now you were almost positive they were talking about you. As far as you knew, you were the only girl Jax has been around, not only recently, but for most of his life. 

You heard the familiar sound of his deep sigh, and you hated how exhausted he sounded. “What girl are you-”

“The one who hangs off your fuckin’ arm like it’s her job,” Clay cut him off, his voice echoing around the small room. It made you jump a bit, your face heating up as your heart pounded loudly in your chest. “The one who can’t spend more than one fuckin’ minute away from you. Hell, I’m surprised she ain’t here right now.”

Your brows furrowed at that, because that wasn’t really fair. Jax had been just as present in your life as you’d been in his, and not once had you ever felt like he was intruding. Why Clay was making it out to be like you were was beyond you. 

Moving closer, your eyes swept over the crack in the door, the slit quite small but just open enough so you were able to see Jax’s side profile. At just the sight of him, you felt a smile start to form on your face. He looked good, a simple grey t-shirt on under his kutte, and he was wearing his Reaper Crew hat backwards and faded jeans.

You had always found him undeniably attractive, and you got to see him go through his many hair phases. Right now he had it shorter than normal, and even though you had an unhealthy amount of fondness for his longer hair, you couldn’t deny that the length its at now was really working for you.

You watched as he swallowed harshly, his jaw locking as he stared at his step-father. “What about her?” he asked, and the way he was speaking now had a heavy feeling growing in your chest. 

You loved talking about Jax, and not once had you ever spoken about him with that kind of tone. Like he was dreading talking about you, like he was bored or uninterested. Like you weren’t someone he liked talking about. 

But you didn’t want to read too much into it. You know Jax better than anyone else does, and you know his body language and can read him like an open book, even when he tries his hardest to hide what he’s feeling. 

He looked tired and annoyed and frustrated, and his body was tense, an invisible guard pulled up around his neck that most weren’t ever able to get through. 

“Jesus, Jax, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m getting at here. You’re all over her, all the time,” Clay said, his voice unforgiving as you stayed as still as you possibly could. “Your focus needs to be on the club, not some fuckin’ girl you’re sticking your dick in.”

You watched Jax cringe a bit, his hands coming up to run down his face as he shook his head. “Goddamnit, Clay, that’s not what’s happening-”

“What did I say about lyin’ to me? Huh? You wanna keep tryin’ it?” Clay cut him off again, his voice dropping in volume as he stepped closer to Jax and got in his face. “I know what’s happening, I’ve fuckin’ seen it. You’re spending all your time with her, instead of putting that time in with us. You’re letting a fuckin’ girl distract you from what really matters. What will always matter more to you.”

Jax let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his arms to his sides, his gaze cold. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” 

“Like hell I don’t. You’re just too whipped for some cheap fuckin’ girl to realize that this is what you’re meant to do. You need to get your priorities straight, Jax,” Clay stated, his own body as tense as Jax’s is. “‘Cause I think you’re becoming confused on where your loyalty lies. And I’d hate for something to happen to your little girlfriend because you failed to remember your place in this world.”

Your eyes were wide now, your lips were parted, and your shoulders were up to your ears as you listened to a conversation you were suddenly wishing you weren’t part of. 

Did you actually just hear that right?

Before you could even fully process the fact that Clay had just threatened you, Jax spoke up again. You assumed he’d be defending you, that he wouldn’t let someone, even his own step-dad, talk about you like that, but that wasn’t the case. At all. 

“Spare me the dramatics, Clay. She’s just a girl,” Jax said, and you felt your body freeze up. “Just another girl, alright? That’s all she is. She ain’t important. Not like the club is.”

Your eyes were no longer wide, and your lips were pressed together. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your face feeling like you had been standing directly in front of the sun for hours on end. Your throat felt tight, like you wouldn’t be able to say a damn thing right now if you tried to. 

There was no way he just said that. There was no way he just said that you weren’t important. That you were just another girl. 

But then he continued on, and you felt your heart break even more. 

“You don’t need to worry about her, okay? She’s nothing,” he stated, and there was no waver in his voice, no indication that he was saying that just to say it. And you felt your eyes burn with incoming tears you knew you’d never be able to hold back if you tried. “I know where my loyalty is. I know what my priorities are.”

You pressed your lips together in an attempt to stop them from quivering, but you weren’t sure you would be able to stop the sobs you felt creeping up your throat. Your heart felt like it was shattered in your chest, and you were having a hard time taking a steady breath. 

“Alright,” Clay said as he stepped away from Jax, and his voice sounded content. Like he’d gotten the answer he’d wanted. While your whole entire world just fell apart in front of your very eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

You stepped away from the doors and turned around, heading straight for the exit as you covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyes burned and your cheeks were damp with your tears, and you didn’t trust opening your mouth right now in fear of the sounds that would come out of it. 

The grossest, heaviest feeling you’d ever felt in your life weighed in your chest, and your legs felt shaky as you stumbled your way through the clubhouse. You kept your gaze down, refusing to meet the eyes of any of the guys as you pushed open the door and stepped back outside. 

It was bright out, but your whole world felt darker than it did before you walked in through that door a few minutes ago. Your mind was full of doubt and your chest felt way too tight and like you couldn’t breathe properly. 

For as long as you’ve been alive, you’ve never felt this horrible. This defeated. This led on and let down. 

You were stumbling your way down the street, your heart hammering in your chest as an unbearable heat took over your body. Your whole day was ruined beyond repair, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this empty. 

Used. You felt used. 

You’d known Jax your whole entire life, and not once had you ever thought he’d be capable of making you feel this way. You were so sure you knew where you stood with him, that you knew your place in his life, but you were so fucking wrong. You’d been wrong about everything. 

Was any of what you’d been feeling from him real? The smiles you thought were only reserved for you, the late nights you spent nestled between his legs as he let you talk about anything and everything, and he’d just listen. Like it was his favorite thing to do. Like he didn’t want to be doing anything but listening to you. 

Did any of that mean a fucking thing to him? 

Did any of your most cherished memories with him mean fucking anything?

You felt like you were hyperventilating when you got home, and you instantly pulled off your jacket and threw it onto the floor in the front hall. Your breathing was irregular as you slumped back against the door, your eyes squeezing shut as you shook your head. 

How long had he been lying to you? Making you think you were the only girl in his life now? Making you think you mattered or were high up on the list of important things in his life?

Your stomach clenched uncomfortably when your phone rang, and you sniffled as you pulled it out of the pocket of your jeans.

It was Jax. 

He was calling you, probably to finally return all the ones he missed from you earlier, but the last thing you wanted to do right now was talk to him. You couldn’t stomach hearing his voice right now, and you knew you’d end up exploding on him over the phone, and that was something you didn’t want to do right now either. 

So you threw it onto the rug by the door, then let your body sink further and further down the wall until you hit the hardwood floor. 

Then you finally just let go. 

Sobs of pure agony, pure heartbreak and betrayal left your lips, and your whole body shook with the force of them. Your throat was raw, and your eyes were bloodshot and red, and you had no idea how you could possibly pull yourself together or ever recover from this. 

Jax had meant everything to you. He was your whole world, your lifeline, your person, and you’d thought you meant something similar to him. But now you don’t know what to believe. 

You were angry, confused, and so fucking hurt, you felt like your heart had been left back at the clubhouse, right outside the doors of the chapel.

You were humiliated, embarrassed, betrayed and so mad at yourself for not being able to see what was really going on. Jax didn’t want you, he just wanted to fuck you and see what it was like. Just to say he did. 

It was cruel, and it didn’t sound like something he’d do at all, but seriously, what the fuck did you know?

All you know is what he told you, even indirectly. 

You weren’t anything to him. You were just another girl.

-

In your sleep, you shifted closer to him without realizing it and kept sleeping peacefully.

You were woken by your phone vibrating on the nightstand. You squinted into the darkness and reached for it. With sleepy eyes, you read a message from your friend:

F/N: Where are you? Is everything okay? You didn’t come back…

You sighed and checked the time. Quickly, you typed a reply:

Y/N: I’m fine. I’ll be back in the morning.

You set the phone down and lay back on your back. After a moment, you felt the urge to check on the sleeping Jiyong. You turned your head toward him—and froze.

Jiyong wasn’t asleep with his eyes closed like you expected. He was looking at you. Calm. Focused. As if he’d been waiting for you to notice.

“It’s rude to make dates with other men,” he said quietly, his voice still slightly rough from sleep, “when you’re still in my bed.”

You blinked, your brain taking a moment to catch up. Then the corners of your mouth curled into an amused smile. “I was texting my friend. But even if I wasn’t… I’m free, I’m sane, and I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Oh really?” he asked smoothly. “Free enough to walk out now? To leave this bed? To tell me no?”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t have a sharp answer ready—but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Since we’re asking questions,” you said instead, “don’t you think it’s rude? Turning completely innocent girls like me into filthy sluts—with thoughts they’d never dare say out loud?”

Jiyong paused, then laughed, his head falling back against the pillow for a moment. “Innocent? You? If you were ever innocent, I already ruined that the moment I touched you.”

You bit your lip, unable to hide your smile. “Maybe. But it’s still your fault. You made me say things I shouldn’t even think.”

His gaze dropped to his hand as it slid slowly from your waist lower, stopping on your thigh. His thumb brushed lightly along the inside of it. “Good. Because now you can’t hide it anymore. You want to be ruined. You crave it.”

“Or maybe,” you breathed at his touch, placing your hand on his chest and pressing lightly, as if to push him away, “I just like teasing arrogant men who think they own me.”

Jiyong laughed, but his hand stayed on your thigh. “Careful. Teasing me only makes me hungrier.”

You were fully awake now, and you answered him without hesitation. “Good. Because I’m not tired yet.”

His eyes sparked. He didn’t wait long—he lifted himself slightly, his hand still gliding over your thigh. “So… an innocent girl calls me arrogant while she lies in my bed at three in the morning—ruined and still horny. Sounds like someone’s confused about who’s making who a slut.”

You laughed. Your hand moved to his arm, fingers tracing it lightly before squeezing, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Confused? No. I know exactly what’s happening. You’re addicted to me. To this. That’s why you’re still awake—watching me instead of sleeping.”

“Addicted?” he said. “You think I’m the one who’s addicted? Baby, you texted your friend you’d be back in the morning. You already planned to stay.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “No, I’m not addicted. I don’t need you—not really. I just wanted to see if you’d survive another round.”

“Survive?” he said softly. “Y/N, I don’t survive rounds. I finish them…”

His lips crashed into yours—hard, hungry, without waiting. He leaned over you, and you felt the weight of his hot, hard, ready body. The kiss was intense but short, Jiyong broke it and pulled back slightly. Something flickered in his eyes. He shifted away and sat beside you.

“Do it,” he said simply, his voice calm.

You stared at him, breathless, confused. “What?”

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come. Right here. For me.”

You held your breath, your mind scrambling to process what you’d just heard. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. You said you don’t need me. You said you’re free—that you do whatever you want. Then prove it. Show me how badly you want it without me lifting a finger.”

Your heart started pounding. Your body was still aroused, the remnants of your earlier storm still pulsing through you. You knew that if you didn’t do what he asked now, you’d look weak—you’d lose this round.

You lifted his T-shirt slightly—the only thing you were still wearing—and placed your hand between your thighs. You kept your eyes locked on him.

Jiyong watched without blinking. His gaze was sharp, burning. “That’s it. Slow. Make it good. Make me believe you don’t need me… when we both know you do.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled, your fingers sliding over warm skin, your hips lifting into your own hand. Jiyong watched every movement, his breathing growing heavier.

You kept going, sprawled out on the bed, your fingers gliding over slick skin. Your cheeks burned, but you forced yourself to open your eyes—you wanted to watch him.

“Do you like what you see?” you breathed, your fingers moving faster.

“Like?” he said. “No. I fucking love it. You spread out, touching yourself, knowing it’s all for me. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You gasped, your hips arching into your hand. Your gaze dropped from his eyes to his hand as it moved to his boxer briefs, gripping himself hard through the fabric.

“And… what does it do to you?” you asked, even though the answer was obvious.

“It makes me so fucking hard I could split you in two right now. Makes me want to pin your hands down, tear them away from yourself, and bury myself so deep you’ll forget your own name.”

His words resonated through you, forcing your head back and your fingers to press harder. “Then why don’t you?”

Jiyong leaned in close, whispering directly into your ear. “Because watching you lose control is better. Because I want to see you beg yourself for more—while you beg me with your eyes.”

So many sensations at once—out of the corner of your eye you saw his hand buried deep in his boxers, you felt his quickened breath at your ear, his words pushing your fingers to move faster.

“Fuck… I’m so close…” you breathed, feeling the tension swell inside you.

“Good,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Come for me. Show me how filthy my innocent girl really is.”

After his words, it hit you. A sharp wave tore through your body, your hips arched, your other hand clenched the sheet, and something between a cry and a growl escaped your lips.

You felt him press closer. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back, letting it fall against his shoulder. You were still shaking, every breath burning in your lungs, but a satisfied smile curved your lips.

After a moment, you turned your head toward him and met his eyes—then your gaze slid lower, to his hand tucked into his boxers.

“You’re hard,” you whispered, running your tongue over your lips. “Touching yourself while watching me…”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his parted mouth lifting into the hint of a smirk. “And?”

You sat up and shifted closer to him, your gaze moving between his eyes and his hand beneath the fabric. “And I want to see it. Take them off. I want a better view.”

There was urgency in your voice—some might have called it an order.

“You think you can give me orders now?”

“No thinking,” you corrected him. “I know. You made me come for you. Now you’re going to do the same. For me… while I watch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then he pulled his hand from his boxers, lifted himself slightly, hooked his fingers into the waistband, and pushed them down. He leaned back into a half-sitting position, pillows propping up his back.

You finally saw him fully—hard, ready, exposed.

You moved closer, savoring every second of the view. “Better. Now show me.”

“Like this?” Jiyong wrapped his hand around himself, his eyes never leaving yours. The movement looked rough, deliberate, controlled.

“Yes. Exactly like that. I want to see you lose it the way you made me.”

His hand tightened around himself as he moved slowly, teasing. His breathing was short, uneven—but he still looked like he had everything under control.

“Fuck,” you breathed, moving even closer now, your eyes fixed on him. “I still can’t believe you fit inside me. The way you stretched me… I can still feel it.”

“Stop,” Jiyong growled, his grip tightening, his movements growing heavier. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Exactly. I can feel myself getting wet again just from watching you. My body… it’s like it’s clenching, searching for you. Like my muscles are calling your name.”

He threw his head back, sinking into the pillows, his hips jerking against his own hand. You reached out and brushed your fingers lightly over his thigh—just enough for him to feel it.

“Do you know what that does to me?” you murmured. “Watching you lose control for me. Knowing I made you this hard… knowing I could ride you right now and still not have enough.”

“Shit,” he hissed, his hand speeding up, his head still buried in the pillow. After a moment, his eyes found yours, as if he needed to make sure you were still there—that he was the only thing you were focused on right now.

“Tell me, Jiyong, how close you are. Tell me you can’t take hearing me say what your cock does to me.”

You didn’t wait for an answer. You moved closer, your hand still firm on his thigh, the grip a clear signal that he had your full attention. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?”

“What…?” he whispered, barely able to speak.

“I’m picturing you holding my head, forcing me down on you. Filling my mouth, not letting me move—not even to breathe. Just choking on you until you spill every last drop down my throat.”

His body jolted, hips thrusting into his own hand as he cursed. “Fuck, [Y/N]—”

You brought your mouth close to his ear and exhaled softly. “And the best part? I want it. I want you to ruin me like that. To make sure I taste you, swallow you, and remember it every time I open my mouth…”

You didn’t get to say anything more. Something snapped inside him—his jaw tightened, then his entire body followed. His hand moved faster, his voice breaking into a raw growl as he came in front of you, hard and uncontrolled.

“Beautiful. That’s it,” you whispered, your hand tightening briefly on his thigh.

Jiyong fell back against the pillows, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.

He finally opened his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling. You propped yourself on your elbow and watched him for a moment. His muscles were still trembling with the aftershocks, his stomach glistening with the traces left behind.

Slowly, you leaned down and swept them away with your tongue, one slow stroke after another, until only warm dampness remained on his skin.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve seen… in at least a month.”

Jiyong finally turned his head and looked at you in disbelief. “Really? A month? That’s all the credit I get?”

You laughed and bit his shoulder lightly. “Guess you’ll just have to try harder. Beat my record.”

Neither of you moved. You stayed with your head resting on his shoulder. His hand slid to your back, fingers occasionally tracing the curve of your spine. You were quiet for a long time.

You felt Jiyong’s chest rise sharply beneath your head, then fall as he took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t do this to me…” he said quietly at last. His voice sounded tired, thoughtful.

“Too late,” you murmured, barely audible, as sleep slowly pulled you under.

***

Sunlight pushed through the heavy curtains, flooding the room with muted light. The air still carried the scent of sweat and sex—but it no longer felt raw like it had at night. Now it was heavy, as if the night itself lingered in the corners, refusing to disappear.

You woke first. Lying on your side, hair tousled, your face buried in the pillow. Beside you, Jiyong was asleep—or at least pretending to be. You watched him for a moment. He looked different, the sharp edges he hid behind at night softened now.

Quietly, you got up, gathered your clothes, and went to take a shower. You washed away the traces of the night, trying to wake yourself up under the stream of cool water. You got dressed and returned to the bed.

Jiyong was awake now, though he stayed lying down.

“I should go,” you murmured as you sat back on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want to?” he asked. His voice was still sleepy; it sounded like he’d woken up just before you came back from the shower.

You turned your head toward him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You said you should go. Not that you want to. That’s a big difference,” he said, smiling—tired, but sincere.

“I don’t want to. Not really…” You swallowed, your heart starting to beat faster than you’d like.

You felt the bed shift behind you as he moved. He sat up close, pressed his lips to your neck, making you tilt your head back until it rested softly against his shoulder. After a moment, you turned toward him and kissed him—briefly, gently, nothing like the night before.

You pulled back and whispered quietly, “I really have to go.”

Reluctantly, you stood up and picked up your bag. The moment felt heavy, stretched out, endless. You knew he was watching you. You put on your jacket and, trying to lighten the mood, looked at him with a small smile.

“So… you’re not going to give me your contact? No number, no anything? In case I get some dirty thoughts on my way back to the Airbnb… and desperately need to share them?”

He didn’t move, but a faint smile appeared on his lips. “If you get thoughts like that, you’ll find your way back here. With or without a number…”

You shook your head, looked at him one last time, and walked out of the room. Somewhere deep inside, you knew this definitely wasn’t the end.

***

The door closed softly behind you, leaving the room empty — only the muted hum of the city beyond the windows and the lingering scent of the night that hadn’t yet faded.

Jiyong remained seated on the bed for a moment, then lay back again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. One arm rested behind his head, the other lay loose on his stomach. It felt like only seconds ago that he’d still felt your breath and your tongue on his skin.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Fuck…” he exhaled into the silence.

Should he have stopped you? In the past, the answer would’ve been simple — no strangers, no complications, no promises. Just a night, and then the end.

But when he watched you ask for his number so casually, as if it meant nothing, he’d wanted to grab your hand and pull you back into the bed.

The absurdity of it all lingered.

He stood and walked over to the window. The city below was waking up — people rushing to work, cars honking, life moving forward without pause.

And somewhere down there, you were walking too — your head full of thoughts, one foot already stepping into territory he had always guarded and kept off-limits.

Fragments of the night replayed in his mind — your laugh, your voice, your sharp, ironic remarks. All of it cut deeper than any blade ever could.

The buzz of his phone sliced through the quiet.

He turned back to the nightstand and picked it up, jaw tightening when he saw the name on the screen.

Manager.

“What the fuck do you want this early…” he muttered, but he answered.

M: Jiyong, you’re late. The meeting with the label started twenty minutes ago. They’re waiting. Where the hell are you?

The voice was sharp, leaving no room for excuses.

J: I’m busy.

M: Busy?! With what? You can’t—

J: I said I’m busy. Tell them I’ll be there in an hour.

He ended the call without waiting for a response.

He placed the phone back on the nightstand and dragged a hand over his face.

Reality was waiting outside…

***

The hallway of the Airbnb was quiet, the only sound the creak of old floorboards under your feet — betraying that you were coming back later than you’d planned. The key clicked in the lock and the door opened.

The room inside was dim. Your friend was sitting on the bed with her phone in hand, worry written all over her face, her hair still messy from sleep. The moment you stepped inside, she looked up and let out a breath of relief.

“Finally. I couldn’t reach you. Where the fuck were you? I thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”

“I’m fine, really,” you said — though from her tone, it was obvious that excuse wasn’t going to be enough.

You checked your phone. Several missed calls. Silent mode still on.

Your friend gave you a full-body scan — wrinkled T-shirt, messy hair, tired eyes. “Fine? You look like you got hit by a truck… and then it backed up. Or—” She paused, then her eyes lit up. “Wait! Wait! Don’t tell me you—”

“Stop it,” you cut her off and dropped onto your bed.

“Oh my god. Who was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So that means it was good. Because if it had been awkward, you’d be talking about it nonstop.”

“Shut up,” you snapped — though you already knew this conversation wasn’t over. You knew her too well. You’d be doing the exact same thing in her place.

She moved over to your bed, settling in for interrogation.

“Come on. At least tell me what he looked like. Was he tall? Muscular? Scars? Tattoos? Please, I need details or I’ll die of curiosity.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away. “No. I’m not telling you anything.”

“So it did happen. Obviously. God, [Y/N], you’re unbelievable. You give me moral lectures about how I should behave on vacation, I meet one Korean guy who can string two English words together and you—you go and find someone for the entire night.”

“He found me,” you muttered before you realized you’d said it out loud — and before you realized how terrible that sounded as an argument.

“He found you? And you went?! [Y/N], you are such a—” She leaned closer and whispered dramatically, “…a slut.”

You burst out laughing and shoved her away. “Shut up!”

“Okay, okay. I see you’re not very talkative today. But at least tell me — was he good? Or was it one of those things you regret the moment it’s over?”

You went quiet, thinking.

She had no idea that you’d seen Jiyong more than once. No idea that a part of you had secretly hoped last night wasn’t the end.

“…He was,” you admitted quietly after a moment — barely louder than a confession.

Your friend let out a triumphant squeal, as if she’d just solved a global mystery, and flopped back onto her bed. “I knew it! You always act like such a cynic, but once you let yourself go, you fall headfirst every single time. I’ve had you figured out for years.”

You threw a pillow at her.

Inside, you knew she wasn’t completely right. She didn’t know the whole story. This wasn’t romance or illusion — but there was something there, something still vibrating inside you, something you wouldn’t mind feeling again.

“You know what?” she said suddenly, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her hand. “You should contact him again.”

She said it so casually, like she’d just read your thoughts. Her eyes sparkled with conspiratorial excitement. From your expression, she could tell you thought she was crazy, so she hurried on: “Seriously — how many chances do you get to meet someone here who shatters all your cynical bullshit in a single night? That doesn’t happen back home. Not to you. And definitely not with someone who left you looking this messed up.”

***

The day continued with your friend in the usual tourist rhythm, following the itinerary you’d prepared. You didn’t return to your morning conversation — or rather, you shut it down completely. The only things you forced yourself to focus on were the crowds, the noise, and your friend’s back, because in this chaos you definitely didn’t want to lose her.

You tried to switch your brain off and just take in the stalls with cheap souvenirs and the signs in Hangul you couldn’t read anyway.

You pulled your hood lower over your forehead. The wind in Hongdae was sharper than usual today.

You wandered through the Hongdae Free Market, browsing handmade jewelry, then stopped for an overly sweet coffee in one of the packed cafés where you could barely turn around. The coffee helped, though — a little chaos, a little laughter, a little sugar.

Eventually, you decided to call it a day. Your friend was adjusting the itinerary for tomorrow, but you weren’t really listening. Your thoughts were still stuck on the night before.

It wasn’t an accident anymore — meeting Jiyong. It was already a plan. You knew what to do, where to go. That couldn’t be called coincidence anymore. You found yourself trying to name whatever this was. More and more, it bothered you that you couldn’t label it at all — and that made you wonder how he would describe it.

When you stepped out of the café, it was already dark.

“This way,” your friend said, pointing toward the subway. Hongik University Station — Exit 9.

So far during your stay in Seoul, this place felt like the busiest, most alive spot of all. You lifted your head and the glowing billboards nearly blinded you — worse than the buzzing neon signs. You had the absurd feeling that if you stared at them any longer, the flashing lights might actually give you a seizure.

You kept walking slowly, your head still tilted upward.

The image on one of the billboards changed.

On the massive LED screen above the subway entrance, an advertisement for some luxury brand appeared. At first, you barely paid attention — a man in an expensive suit, flawless hair, Korean text you didn’t understand, a huge logo.

Then you froze.

That look. That burning gaze. That face. Those eyes.

You stopped so abruptly that your friend nearly ran into you.

“No way…” you breathed in your native language.

“What? Why are you stopping? We’ll miss the subway.”

You raised your hand and pointed at the LED screen. “That’s… him.”

It took your friend a second to process what you were saying. Then she stared back and forth between you and the screen, eyes wide.

“WHAT?! You slept with him?!”

“With who?” you muttered, still unable to tear your eyes away from the screen.

“You’re insane. That’s G-Dragon. He’s— he’s a legend. He’s… everything.”

Your friend pulled you a little to the side, because you were blocking the flow of people passing by. But your eyes stayed locked on the LED screen.

You were closer to it now. You could see that face clearly — the same face you knew up close, from a dark bar, from a hotel room, from night touches and raw words.

“Okay,” you breathed quietly. “So… what is he? Some kind of model?”

“Are you kidding me?” your friend stared at you, eyes wide.

“No,” you said calmly. “I don’t know him. At all. Tell me.”

Your friend took a deep breath, as if preparing for an important lecture. “Alright. Listen. That’s G-Dragon. His real name is Kwon Jiyong. Born in 1988. He started as a trainee at YG Entertainment, then debuted with Big Bang — one of the biggest K-pop groups ever. He’s the leader. He wrote, composed, and produced most of their hits.”

You blinked. You only half-registered what she was saying, because you still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen. This wasn’t your world — you weren’t into K-pop, your taste in music lived somewhere else entirely. But you caught the name.

Jiyong.

That, you decided, was probably the only information that really mattered. And it confirmed what your eyes were already telling you — it really was him.

“Okay,” you blinked again and finally looked at your friend. “So… some music guy.”

“Some music guy?” your friend nearly choked. “He’s an icon. Music, style, fashion, art — everything. He works with the biggest brands: Chanel, Nike, whatever you can think of. In Korea he’s a legend, in Asia a megastar. He’s like… Bowie, Kanye, and Warhol rolled into one. And you’re standing here calling him ‘some music guy.’”

You shifted your weight nervously. The weight of the realization still hadn’t fully sunk in. “He didn’t exactly introduce himself that way.”

“Well of course — and you didn’t tell him you had no idea who he was?”

“No… I didn’t have a reason to,” you smiled faintly.

Your friend slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh my god, you are unreal. I’d probably pass out if I got within two meters of him. And you? You spent the night with him and you still act like he’s some random guy from Tinder.”

There was a brief silence, then she spoke again: “You really don’t get it, do you? That’s not just anyone. That’s G-Dragon. G-Dragon!”

Her rising voice made you turn toward her. You clicked your tongue, unimpressed, and crossed your arms. “First of all,” you started in a teacher-like tone, “it wasn’t just one night. It was two.”

Your friend opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Second,” you raised another finger, “thank god I didn’t know who he was. Because if I’d started squealing and drooling — like you — he probably would’ve run off and called the police.”

“I would not drool!” she protested, though it didn’t sound very convincing.

“And third,” you shrugged, “he’s still a person. A normal guy. Not a god, not a billboard figure. And that’s exactly how he acted.”

“You are impossible. You sleep with someone half of Asia dreams about and you talk about him like he’s the guy next door.”

“Okay,” you raised your hands to stop her verbal avalanche. “Enough. We’re not talking about him anymore.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you mean not talking?! This is the biggest experience of the whole trip and you—”

“And I want to enjoy this trip normally,” you cut in, your voice firmer than you intended. “Without turning it into a circus. I want to see the city, eat anything that doesn’t have kimchi in it, and take pictures next to every stupid sign. Not another word about this.”

She studied your face for a moment, gauging how serious you were, then nodded. “Fine. Your loss.” She glanced at her phone. “Alright, next subway — we missed this one.”

¨***

The evening at the Airbnb felt heavy and drowsy, the tension between you and your friend still hanging thick in the air. You weren’t talking. Your friend was half-lying on the bed with her laptop on her knees, while you sat on the carpet, your back against the couch, staring at your phone.

You couldn’t help it. It was like you had to check again and again. You typed his name into the search bar and started scrolling through articles and photos.

That’s when it finally began to sink in — his slightly paranoid behavior, places with low crowds, no exchange of contact details. There were endless links: crowds of fans at airports, outside hotels, at concerts. Bodyguards. Security.

What had happened suddenly felt wildly irresponsible. And dangerous.

“Fuck…” you whispered.

“So it’s finally hitting you, huh?” You hadn’t even noticed your friend move from the bed to the couch, now leaning over your shoulder, staring at your phone screen.

You tilted your head back and rubbed your face with one hand. Everything made sense now. Every detail felt less accidental and more risky.

You decided you had to act. You couldn’t stay in the Airbnb for another minute. You grabbed your jacket and headed out.

Nighttime Seoul was soaked in damp air and glowing lights reflecting in puddles on the pavement. You walked without a plan — and yet, before long, you found yourself standing in front of the bar you now recognized even blindfolded.

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair. “If this isn’t the dumbest idea of this fucking vacation, I don’t know what is,” you muttered, then pushed the door open.

Inside, nothing had changed — noise, laughter, the sharp smell of alcohol. You sat at a corner table and ordered a beer. Your eyes kept drifting to the spot where he usually sat. Then to the door.

Minutes dragged on. People came and went. Music blended with drunken laughter. Every time the door opened, your body tensed.

But it was never him.

“This is stupid. He probably had enough already,” you thought — and still you stayed, ordering a second beer.

You kept thinking about him. Maybe you felt a flicker of embarrassment, remembering your friend’s words and how casually you’d treated him. The whole thing was so absurd you wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up back home, in your own bed, thinking: Jesus, that was one messed-up dream…

But you didn’t wake up.

The glass in front of you was nearly empty again. You checked the time on your phone and rubbed your face.

“This is pointless,” you muttered.

You put on your jacket, paid, and picked up your bag. Your steps felt heavy — with exhaustion, maybe disappointment too — as you walked past the bar, heading for the exit.

Your hand was almost on the door handle when it opened.

A rush of cold air spilled inside — and with it, Jiyong.

A cap pulled low over his forehead. A black hoodie. A mask hanging under his chin. You recognized him instantly by his eyes.

You stopped short, stepping back so abruptly you almost ran into a guy behind you.

Jiyong looked at you — just briefly. His gaze swept the room, then returned to you. His eyes narrowed slightly beneath the cap, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he were thinking he’d arrived just in time.

“Leaving already?” he asked quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I thought you wouldn’t show,” you breathed, gripping your bag tighter than necessary.

“So… if you’re leaving, you’re not leaving alone. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and stepped out onto the street.

“Go where? You didn’t drink tonight. You’re not here just to sit around, are you?”

He smiled, clearly pleased that you were following him. “Exactly. I don’t need to. We’ll keep it short. My car’s around the corner.”

“Your car,” you repeated, weighing every word. “So that’s how you plan to make sure I don’t change my mind?”

He shrugged, hands sliding into his jacket pockets. “If you wanted to walk away, you already would have.”

You stared at him for a moment — and then walked beside him anyway.

He led you down a narrow alley toward a small parking lot, where a black car stood among the reflections of streetlights. He unlocked it remotely; the lights flashed briefly. He opened the passenger door for you, his eyes still fixed on you.

“Get in.”

The engine purred softly as the streets of nighttime Seoul slid past the windshield in streaks of light. The car was quiet — until the silence started to irritate you.

You leaned your head back against the seat and looked at him. “So you changed strategy, right? No bars, no drinks — straight to the car. Efficient. Almost like you’ve done this before.”

His focused expression softened for a second into a faint smile, eyes still on the road. “Maybe I have. Maybe you’re just the only one who says it out loud.”

“That’s because I’m not stupid,” you replied flatly. “Most girls probably melt the second you crook your finger — innocent face and all.”

“And you don’t?” he raised an eyebrow, still watching the road.

“No. I make my own choices. Sitting here doesn’t mean I’m melting. It just means I’m… curious.”

“Curious, hm?” His hand settled confidently on your thigh.

You suddenly noticed your skirt was riding far too high. At his touch, you instinctively tensed and pressed your thighs together.

“You’re driving,” you warned. “Maybe watch the road instead of my thighs.”

“Maybe I like the risk,” he replied without hesitation. His hand moved again, more deliberately this time.

The air inside the car thickened. Streetlights swept across your faces, and the silence inside felt heavier than the noise outside.

His hand overcame the resistance of your tightly pressed thighs, fingers reaching the thin fabric of your underwear.

“You say you’re curious,” he murmured, “but you’re already wet. So tell me… is that curiosity, or something else?”

You pressed your lips together, breathing through your nose, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Maybe it’s just the air conditioning.”

He laughed quietly, his fingers moving again, testing, feeling the heat beneath them. “Air conditioning doesn’t make your thighs shake like this.”

You stayed silent, focusing on keeping your breathing steady, trying not to acknowledge what was happening between your legs. Every touch of his was slow, deliberate, almost exploratory — like he was mapping you blind.

“You’re clenching,” he observed quietly, his voice low. “Like your body’s begging, even while your mouth is busy lying to me.”

His fingers slid to the edge of your underwear and, without warning, slipped beneath the fabric. A muffled breath escaped your throat as there was nothing between his touch and your skin anymore. Skin on skin.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That little sound you make when you can’t hold it back. I could make you louder — right here, with people walking past the car. Would you like that?”

You stayed silent, unable to speak. His fingers moved slowly but with precision, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Your breath turned shallow, your body tense.

Jiyong smiled, eyes still fixed on the road, as if driving were only an afterthought. “You’re so close. I can feel it. You’re dripping for me, baby — right here in my car.”

You hissed softly, your hips lifting instinctively against his hand. You inhaled sharply, grabbed his wrist, and pushed it back onto your thigh — away from the burning place where he was undoing you. “Stop. Not here.”

He turned his head toward you, eyebrow lifting, genuinely curious. “Not here? You think you get to choose where?”

You laughed despite your unsteady breathing. “Yes. Unless you want me to ruin your leather seats. I don’t plan on paying for cleaning your car.”

His gaze returned to the road and after a moment he laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” you replied with a faint smile. “I’m practical.”

The tension in the car was thick enough to cut. His driving turned sharper, faster, more reckless.

The car stopped in front of the hotel. Jiyong killed the engine without looking at you, opened the door, and stepped out. You hesitated — then followed.

He didn’t say a word, just strode toward the entrance. The elevator rose slowly, lights flickering, but he never once looked at you. He stood with his back to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

The moment the hotel room door closed behind you, he turned.

Dark eyes. Heavy gaze. Voice low. “You think you’re funny?”

You laughed, even though your heart was pounding wildly. “I think I saved you some money. Leather seats are expensive to clean and—”

You didn’t finish. Jiyong slammed you back against the door, his entire body pressed to yours, one hand closing around your throat, the other already sliding beneath your skirt.

“No more games. You’re going to pay for teasing me in my car.”

His fingers were rough, impatient. One swift movement was enough to strip you of your panties. He didn’t bother taking you to the bed — instead, he bent you over the nearest piece of furniture and pressed your hands flat against the wooden surface.

“Mess-free, huh? Let’s see how long before you’re begging me to ruin everything in this room,” he laughed.

You didn’t even register when he managed to unfasten and shove his pants down — all you felt was him driving into you hard, without warning. The force tore a cry from your throat. Your body arched, your fingers clawed desperately at the edge of the furniture.

“That’s it. You don’t get to stop me anymore. Not here. Not anywhere,” he hissed.

He held you firmly, his thrusts brutal and unforgiving. Every movement felt like punishment — a reminder that this game had rules, and you weren’t the one making them. Your knees buckled under the force of it. He shortened his rhythm — deep, deliberate thrusts that made you feel every inch of him.

You moaned, your hips pushing back against him on instinct, searching for the rhythm your body craved. The sounds spilling from you were raw, hoarse, hungry.

“Listen to yourself. Hear those sounds. You think you’re teasing me, but every little moan… every time you push back into me… that’s you begging,” he growled into your ear, leaning in so his breath brushed your neck.

His thrusts slowed, deep and torturous, keeping you right on the edge, forcing you to listen to his voice, to his words. “Say it. Admit what your body’s begging for.”

You inhaled sharply, your hips lifting against his, your voice breaking with your breaths. You closed your eyes. “You already know. You feel it every time I clench around you. You hear it in every fucking sound I make. So stop wasting time with words — because if you keep dragging this out, I swear I’ll flip you over, ride you until you can’t breathe, and I won’t give a damn whether it’s appropriate or not,” you snarled in a single breath. You had no patience for games anymore — you needed one thing, now.

“You’d rape me, huh?” he scoffed darkly. “Baby, you’re too late — because right now I’m already fucking you like you asked for it.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his pace turned savage — hard, fast, relentless. You screamed, gripping the edges of the furniture tighter as your legs struggled to hold you up.

Jiyong pulled out of you for a brief moment and yanked you around by the arm. A few quick steps and he shoved you back onto the bed. You landed on your back in the soft sheets, and with barely a breath between, he drove into you again.

His rhythm was fast, punishing. You tried to keep up, every thrust driving you deeper into the mattress.

Then he changed the angle — one sharp pull lifted your hips higher at the edge of the bed. You cried out, a sound you’d never heard yourself make before.

“There. That spot. Guess I found it.”

Your body shattered beneath him. You writhed, your hands clutching his shoulders and forearms desperately — the only anchor you had.

“Fuck, Jiyong…” you gasped, the rest of your words dissolving into a sob of pleasure.

Another thrust — hard, precise — and your body exploded. Moans turned into cries, your muscles clamping down so tightly that his hips jerked reflexively against yours. Then the wave hit — uncontrollable, hot, flooding through you with no way to stop it.

You gasped, your whole body shaking, the sounds spilling from you raw, uncontrolled, almost animalistic. Jiyong held you firmly, never stopping his thrusts until your head fell back in exhaustion. Warmth spread beneath you, soaking the sheets before you could stop it.

“Mess-free, huh? Look what you just did to my bed.”

You didn’t have the strength to answer. His grin was the most dangerously satisfied you’d ever seen on his face. Your body trembled, breath breaking, muscles still spasming.

He stayed inside you, his hips still for a moment as you clenched around him uncontrollably.

“Don’t think it’s over. I’m not done with you.”

You sucked in a breath, your body instinctively trying to pull away, but Jiyong held your hips firmly in place.

“Jiyong — please —”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Even though you wanted to protest, your hips instinctively lifted against his thrusts. Jiyong clenched his jaw, sped up, and after a moment his body went rigid. His breath broke free — raw and deep — and you felt a rush of heat fill you. Then his grip loosened and he collapsed against you. You felt his rapid breathing at your neck. You lay beneath him, shaking, exhausted. The air in the room felt thick and heavy.

After a moment, Jiyong rolled off you and fell onto his back beside you. His skin burned, his muscles still tightening in aftershocks.

A little later, he turned onto his side and pulled the blanket over both of you. Propping his head on his hand, he studied you. “Look at you. Ruined, wrecked, and still smiling.”

You couldn’t help laughing. You shifted, clutching the sheet to your chest. There was silence for a moment — then you laughed again.

“What’s so funny?” Jiyong asked, lifting an eyebrow slightly.

“I’m just… I’m sorry for the mess,” you said. “Seriously. I don’t even want to imagine what the cleaning staff is going to think when they walk in here tomorrow.”

“You think this is the worst thing they’ve seen?”

“Oh, come on. This looks like a crime scene. They’ll think we were possessed.”

“Let them think whatever the fuck they want. As long as they don’t charge me extra.”

You laughed louder than you meant to. You rolled onto your side too, resting your head on your hand. “So, you do care about money, huh? For a superstar, that’s kind of… cheap.”

Jiyong stiffened. His eyes narrowed. “Superstar?” he repeated quietly. His voice dropped a notch. “What do you mean by that?”

You watched him for a moment, considering your words. The corners of your mouth twitched, but there was nothing playful about it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he frowned, a worrying crease appearing on his forehead.

“That you’re… you. Until today, I had no fucking clue. I thought you were just some guy. Normal. Ordinary. And then today…” You exhaled. “I nearly had a heart attack when I looked up and saw your face staring at me from a fucking billboard.”

Jiyong sat up, leaning back against the headboard. “So you really didn’t know…”

You shook your head. “No. Guess I missed the memo that I was fucking a national treasure.”

“That explains a lot,” he said after a moment, laughing softly.

You watched him, waiting for him to continue.

“That first night,” he began slowly, his voice rough but calm, “when you were sitting at your table, looking at me… it felt different. Not the usual look I get. Not that hungry shine. Not the please-sign-my-shirt eyes. It was just… a look. Like you were trying to figure out whether I was a decent guy or an asshole.”

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth twitching. “And which one did you decide on?”

His laugh was quiet, brief. “Still debating. But when I sat down… and you accused me of stalking you? Do you have any idea how absurd that was? For someone in my position.”

His gaze locked onto you, sharp but tired. “Nobody ever accuses me of that. They don’t even dare. And you? You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.”

He paused, fingers tracing the edge of the sheet as if buying himself time. “So no, I couldn’t exactly say, Hi, I’m a national treasure. And after that…” He shrugged, a darker smile returning. “…during our other activities, I didn’t really see the point in opening a debate about my résumé.”

You stared at him silently for a moment before laughing. “Fair. I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

“Exactly.”

You watched him, the corners of your mouth twitching. “Well… I guess your résumé speaks for itself. And I’ve already seen more than enough of the practical part.”

Jiyong narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decode your words. “So what, you had to google me after all? Run a little background check?”

You laughed and stretched out on the bed. “Didn’t have to. My friend did it for me. And trust me, she was very enthusiastic about filling me in.”

“Oh yeah?” he growled, leaning closer. “And what did you learn?”

“Among other things,” you nodded, your eyes glinting, “that you’ve been writing your own songs since you were a kid. That you’ve got enough scandals to fill a book… and still somehow walk around like you own the whole fucking city…”

You paused. You weren’t waiting for his reaction — you wanted the words to land properly. “And I learned your real name. Kwon Jiyong.”

You said it slowly, deliberately, stressing every syllable. His jaw tightened for a moment before he smiled.

“Sounds different when you say it.”

You rolled your eyes and flopped back onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “Well, that’s because I don’t scream it while holding a poster.”

After a moment you closed your eyes, and silence settled between you. You felt the mattress dip as Jiyong shifted closer. His breath brushed your ear.

“So tell me,” he murmured, “did your little research cover the fun stuff too? Scandals, rumors… all the shit people whisper when they think they know me?”

You stretched and turned your head toward him until your noses almost touched. “Depends on what you mean by fun.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t get curious. No girl finds out she’s fucked a superstar and doesn’t google whether he’s into weird kinks or if he’s been caught naked on some balcony.”

“Oh, I found worse,” you said, turning your gaze back to the ceiling — his intense stare made you uneasy despite everything you’d already done with him. “Apparently you’re a genius, a devil, a fashion icon, a drug addict, and a saint. Sometimes all in the same article.”

A moment later, you felt his fingers hook under your chin, forcing you to look at him again. His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer. “And what do you think, hm? After our nights. Which one am I?”

You smiled, your gaze flicking briefly to his lips. You ran your tongue over your own before meeting his eyes again. “You’re an arrogant asshole who fucks like a god. Everything else is noise.”

“An arrogant asshole who fucks like a god, huh?” he whispered, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Sounds like a challenge. You sure you’re qualified to make that review?”

You exhaled, trying to stay composed. “Trust me. I did the fieldwork.”

“Fieldwork’s not done until you prove it twice.”

Before you could react, he rolled over and pinned you beneath him again. His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them wide. “Say it again,” he said. “Tell me I fuck like a god while I’m inside you. Otherwise it’s just empty words.”

You laughed — but the laugh broke into a gasp when he thrust into you again. It was sudden, fast, rough. “Fuck…” slipped from your lips as you threw your head back.

Every slow, deep thrust knocked the air from your lungs. You were still far too sensitive, everything amplified, like your body was turned up to full volume.

“Say it, [Y/N],” he breathed against your neck, leaving a mark there. “Say I’m everything you said I am…”

You gasped for air, fingers tangling in his hair as you forced him to lift his head and look at you. “Fine,” you panted between moans. “You’re an arrogant asshole—”

Your hips bucked against his.

“…who fucks like a god. Happy now?”

You lifted your head slightly and kissed him. He kissed you back until you had to pull away, breathless, your eyes still locked on his.

“Except gods,” you added, “don’t usually have to beg their worshippers for compliments.”

His thrusts grew harder, faster.

“You’re cheeky,” he growled, “and you like to provoke, don’t you?”

He kissed you again, silencing your moans. “Tell me again who I am,” he breathed into your mouth, not pulling away.

“Fuck… you’re an arrogant asshole—”

He didn’t let you finish; a hard thrust tore a moan from you. You gave up on provoking him.

“You fuck like a god.”

You felt your muscles tighten again, clenching around him as you moaned.

“Again. One more time. Say it when you come for me.”

His hand tightened around your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. He pinned you to the mattress, leaving you no room to escape. When the wave of pleasure tore through your body, you exhaled weakly,

“You fuck like a god.”

He still held you there, his hips pressed firmly against yours, one hand on your neck, the other gripping your hip. His body was tense, breath hissing through clenched teeth as he fought to regain control. You lay beneath him, skin slick with sweat, breathing short and shaky. Your muscles were still contracting in the aftermath, as if your body refused to accept that it was over.

The room was silent.

For a few seconds, Jiyong didn’t move. He just held you. Then his fingers slowly slid from your neck, over your collarbone, down to your arm.

Even though your body felt wrecked, trembling and exhausted, you realized you didn’t want him to pull away. In that raw, suffocating silence, you felt more connected to that arrogant bastard than you ever would have expected.

Jiyong’s breathing gradually steadied. He kept you pressed to the mattress for a moment longer, then slowly slipped out of you and shifted aside. You felt the relief immediately — your body still shaking, muscles heavy — but the second his weight was gone, you already missed it.

You stared at the ceiling, hair spread across the pillow, cheeks still flushed and hot. Jiyong lay down beside you without a word. He turned onto his side and rested a hand on your bare stomach, his fingers lazily tracing over your damp skin, as if quietly marking his territory again.

You closed your eyes and let out a long breath. You didn’t stop him.

For a while, there was nothing but silence — just your breathing, surprisingly in sync.

Then you laughed softly. “We’re destroying hotel property every time we meet. At this rate, they’ll put my face on a blacklist.”

Jiyong smiled. “Let them try. I’ll buy the whole floor if I have to.”

Since you can’t move, a high whine starts low in the back of your throat but before it can fully make its way out, Happy swoops in, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it.

You anticipate something akin to assualt, a roughness to make your jaw ache, but Happy’s touch is deliberate and measured, so different than you expected. His tongue licks into your mouth in time with Juice licking at your core and you believe the only reason you don’t come immediately is because your body is simply too overwhelmed to make the decision.

Happy releases your mouth and you gasp, lungfuls of cool air becoming a precious commodity in this den of pleasure you’ve entered. It’s still dark, not even a hint of morning light coming through the window. You have no idea how long you were asleep, twenty minutes or twenty hours, but when Juice slides what feels to be three fingers in you, you still feel extra sensitive from way he fucked you before.

“Does it hurt?” rumbles directly in your ear.

Juice’s fingers stop but his tongue doesn’t, continuing to lap in between your legs, licking everything around his fingers.

“No,” you say, shocked at the way your voice sounds on the simple word. As if trying to prove your point, your hips move on their own, taking more of Juice’s fingers, searching for the same sensation as before, but with your movements you discover something else.

Happy is….happy.

Juice starts to move his fingers, curling and stretching them, searching for that spot inside you, his tongue still working you over, a haze of pleasure falling over you, but you continue to rock your hips back into Happy, your head rolling back against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver. You knew he’d been watching you the whole time, but meeting his eyes just takes everything to the next level, your body feeling like it’s being lit on fire.

“What do you want?”

At this point in time, you don’t know if he actually says the words out loud or just forces them directly into your subconscious, but Juice’s fingers are working faster now, thrusting into you so roughly that your breasts are swaying with the movement, brushing over the tops of Happy’s arms, even his grip on your waist not holding you still.

He asks again and while you see his lips move this time you still don’t actually hear the words, but you know what he is asking.

“Both. Please, both of you,” you beg, as you crash over the edge, Juice’s snarl between your legs almost inhuman as he presses his jaw and teeth into you to feel you pulse against his mouth.

The room spins with your release, ecstasy clouding the darkness even further as your eyes lose focus, body going limp with pleasure, Happy being the only reason you don’t slide onto the floor. There’s movement happening, shifting of bodies, cool air reaching new parts of sweat slicked skin, but you can’t bring yourself to make any of it make sense until a cool, wet finger touches you somewhere different.

Your brain instantly backtracks and catalogs all the new changes. You are in the same position as before, but now the body underneath you is fully naked, the layer of denim gone and you can feel his firm length folded between you. Juice is on his knees between your legs, an animalistic look in his eye, body completely still as he crouches over you like a predator waiting to pounce.

They don’t even have to ask this time. “Yes,” erupts from deep in your chest, the ache inside you taking over, the need to be filled by both of these men giving itself a voice.

Juice falls forward, his mouth finding the sensitive peaks of your breasts even in the darkness and you brace for the roughness of his finger entering you but it’s probably the most gentle he’s been with you since catching you falling from the barstool only hours before.

His finger enters you slow but steady, not stopping until he bottoms out, then it stills. You’ve done this to yourself before, but Juice’s finger is bigger, able to go farther. Then he starts to withdraw it the same time he sucks deeply on your nipple and your whole body shudders. You can’t find the words, eyes finding Happy’s so easily, knowing he’ll be watching, waiting, and you stare into him, chanting the word more with every atom in your body, hoping he gets the message.

And of course, he does.

“Another.”

His voice is somehow deeper this time, his length twitching against your backside and you realize that he’s barely holding it together, waiting for Juice to stretch your hole enough to take him. And Juice doesn’t waste any time, another finger pushing into you, slow and steady, not stopping until it’s buried deep. Your breath catches and the room is absolutely silent, both men watching with baited breath and waiting for your reaction, Juice looking up and Happy looking down from the edge, waiting to catch you from whichever way you’re going to fall and the security of the moment wrenches a groan from deep in your chest, your sounds becoming as primal as the ones from the men around you. Your eyes roll back as Juice’s fingers start to move, slow and steady, in and out, the tension of restraint in his body causing him to vibrate.

Happy starts to croon, “So good, you’re doing so good,” and for the first time, you don’t know if he’s talking to you or Juice.

But then Juice adds another finger, the stretch and burn becoming real again and you focus everything you have left at relaxing your muscles, forcing your body to welcome the intrusion. Your breathing becomes focused, measured and Happy turns his head, his mouth right at your ear.

“Tell us.”

Your mouth opens but words don’t come out. How could they? How could you put into words, at this moment, how badly you want these men to wreck you, how you want them inside you so deeply that you leave marks on each other so permanent that your souls will still be bound to each other in their many lives to come.

Happy’s breath is still hot against your ear but you feel his hips shift ever so slightly underneath you, giving away how badly he wants to hear your answer but your throat closes tightly, eyes wide, staring into the dark shape looming over you.

You don’t blink, words caught in your throat, not able to move or breathe until a tear slips from your eye. You don’t know how he even manages to see it in the darkness but Juice reaches forward, scooping the tear off your cheek and slips it into his mouth, like he’s made it his life's mission to consume every part of you he can.

As his finger slides from his mouth, you manage to lock eyes with him, something uncatching in your throat and suddenly the words just start pouring out of you.

“Fuck me, both of you. I want you both, please. Fill me, I need it. I need you.” Your words come out as a whine but bring a flurry of movement. Happy’s arms unlock from your waist, gripping your hips to lift you up to reposition himself. Something slick and cool from Juice’s hand drizzles over your clit and down both of your openings, followed by hands and fingers, pushing more of it into each hole, the sensation lewd and teasing at its urgency and brevity then finally, finally, you feel both of them notch at their place of choosing, Juice above and Happy below.

You could spend the rest of your life in the moment that happens next, the feeling of completeness as they both slide into you at the same time, the way you can discern them colliding and continuing, both of their bodies shuddering as you take every inch they have to give.

You expect Happy to wrap his arms around your waist again but instead he tangles his fingers with yours to bring your hands up to your shoulders so your elbows are splayed out, leaving you feeling more exposed than ever, your back arched and angling your hips down to take even more of them both.

When neither of them move and with Happy holding your arms and legs, you move in the only way you can, by bearing down with your inner muscles.

Juice snarls and you swear that, just for a moment, you see what little light is in the room reflect in his eyes.

“Now you’re in for it,” rumbles across your back, the words leaving Happy and absorbing into your skin as both men pull back to plunge into you again. You expect them to work out a rhythm but their thrusts are hectic and stuttered, each man losing himself in you individually, chasing their pleasure independently and your own becomes white hot, turning you into a beacon between them as you fall over the edge first, both of them diving after you.

You expect to land in the clouds, drifting away into the darkness again, but the men still inside you have different plans. You can feel them softening but they don’t withdraw, Juice’s fingers coming to where you are joined together, finding your sensitive clit and pinching it hard. You buck against them both and Happy hisses in your ear and you still, not wanting to lose the feeling of him inside you.

Your battered muscles somehow manage to hold you still, tremors starting in your bones as Juice continues to work at your clit. You don’t know how you could possibly come again, these men having rung pleasure from every molecule of your being, but you feel it happening again, and as everything in you begins to tighten in preparation, you feel the men inside you starting to grow hard again, filling you from the inside and the sensation has you exploding again, body fully going limp this time, everything you are succumbing to the pleasure.

The fluttering of your walls fully resuscitates the lengths of men inside you as they start pumping again, one in, one out, working in tandem to keep you full this time versus trying to split you in two, using calculated coordination to keep your pleasure at an all time high, making you wonder if you’ve ascended into another plane of existence.

Everything is wet, your skin from the mixtures of sweat, lube, and cum, the air from the three hot breaths in the small room. You feel like you are drowning, not knowing which way is up, not even knowing whether you care to ever find the surface again if this is what the water has waiting for you.

The next wave of pleasure sends you fully into the abyss, inky blackness consuming you entirely as you finally give every last atom of your being to the men around. Your soul settles into contentment for the first time in weeks, finding a cocoon of peace in the space between two dangerous outlaws.

Today would have been your fifth anniversary, the one you and your ex boyfriend had both previously decided you’d take the next steps on. But instead of celebrating your marriage proposal, you sat alone in the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse with a warm glass of …something that had become your usual. You could tell the dark cloud hung thicker around you today, creating an invisible barrier no one wanted to cross - not that people chatted you up but they were at least friendly. Tonight, there wasn’t even a body on the barstool next to you.

Just as you were about to let that detail pull you deeper into your depression you felt a pair of eyes on you. It wasn’t uncommon, you were a woman after all, but it never felt this intense or lasted this long. Toying with the glass in front of you, you looked up through your lashes trying to spot the person whose eyes you feel. You dropped them almost immediately having made eye contact with one of the members, the one you’d been trying the hardest not to catch the attention of.

You weren’t sure how the club nicknames worked but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out how they’d landed on Happy for this guy. The only time you’d seen him smile was when someone was bleeding, and that someone was usually him. You’d noticed his “Men of Mayhem” patch, a patch worn only by two other men - the president and the VP - which had made you wonder what he’d done to earn it without holding an office.

Still feeling his eyes, you glanced back up and, sure enough, he was still staring. You looked away quickly, trying to look as natural as possible, lifting your glass to take a sip which turned into a huge mistake. Whatever amber colored acetone they filled your glass with caught in your throat, your body rejecting the small sip of burning fluid, coughs racking your body. The glass clattered back to the bar, toppling over as you covered your mouth, fighting for your life against the offensive liquid.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

You focused watery eyes on who you assumed was the youngest of the members - a guy with a short Mohawk and lightning bolt tattoos on his head. “Wrong pipe,” you croaked between coughs.

The wince of sympathy he gave you wasn’t missed as he leaned half his body over the bar, grabbing a bottle of water from somewhere, passing it over to you quickly. In your desperation to stop coughing, you didn’t even care that the lid doesn’t click with the breaking of a seal, just tipping your head back and taking a deep swallow of the clear liquid before you realized it’s not actually water.

“Wait —”

Whatever was just in your mouth sprayed out, mostly over your already spilled drink on the bar but you didn’t quite turn far enough and you also managed to spit at least some on the guy who gave it to you.

Mortification filled your body, the sounds of the clubhouse a low drone as your brain tried to process the quick series of events that just happened as you wiped the back of your hand over your mouth.

Thankfully, you weren’t coughing though, which meant the words were then pouring out of your mouth a mile a minute. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I just did that. I thought that was water, but it was just more spicy juice, and I already made a mess and I shouldn’t have spit that on you, I’m so sorry.”

He just laughed, wiping his face with a rag that he pulled from his pocket. “It’s fine. I should have warned you,” he said with a bright white smile.

By then, the prospect had finally come over with a towel and a fresh bottle of water, still sealed. After a few swallows, you managed to ask, “What was that?”

Juice, whose name you’d remembered now that your brain was getting full oxygen again, glanced around the bar then leaned in like he was getting ready to share club secrets. “It’s my own stash of tequila.” He gave a shrug when you raised your eyebrows. “I don’t like the stuff they keep behind the bar, but if I bring in a bottle of it, the guys drink it all.”

Something in the honesty of it brought a smile to your face, one you quickly covered with another drink of water. “Well, Juice, your secret’s safe with me.”

His look turned inquisitive at the use of his name. “Have we met before? Because I’m sure I would have remembered.”

Heat rose in your cheeks, realizing your slip up. “No,” you said quickly - too quickly judging by the raise of his eyebrows, “uh, no. But if you’re here enough, it’s easy to figure out.”

Just then, as if to prove your point, Chibs screamed, “BOBBY!” and threw his arms around the long haired man, dragging him over to a couch.

Juice nodded. “Makes sense.”

You thought he’d leave then, order his drink and go back to his night but he didn’t. He’d asked questions like what brought you into tonight, how often you’d been to the clubhouse, if you knew anyone there. You weren’t fool enough to believe it was all casual conversation, you knew eventually someone would notice you didn’t belong there. But someone had. Two someone’s actually.

During your conversation with Juice, you kept feeling the weight of eyes on you and each time you glanced across the bar, Happy was still watching you.

After about your dozenth time, Juice finally asked, “Everything okay?”

You bit your lip, wondering if you should even say anything, but during your hesitation, Juice looked across the bar, immediately noticing what you’d been looking at.

He gave a nod of his head and something about him finally acknowledging Happy gave you the courage to look up and actually watch him as he walked over to you. Bodies parted before him, people clambering out of his way as he walked around the bar, never taking his eyes off you.

“Hap, this is Y/N,” Juice said once he was close enough, his introduction completely casual as if his approach was totally normal.

Happy stopped next to him, not close enough for you to shake his hand without getting off your barstool so you just threw a hand up in a little wave. “Hi.”

He didn’t say anything, just giving a quick jerk of his head, the toothpick you could then see in his mouth rolling to the other side.

Your eyes flicked between the two, Happy still staring at you as intensely as he had from across the bar. It took only seconds until you started to squirm, suddenly not knowing what to do with your hands, completely forgetting about the bottle of water you were holding as it slipped from your fingers and smacked on the ground.

Juice’s face split in a wide grin that he had the decency to try and hide, turning his head into his hand and propping his elbow on the bar. You knew you should grab the bottle but you couldn’t move, feeling like prey under Happy’s gaze. As if proving you right, he began to crouch, very slowly, not taking his eyes off of you as he grabbed the bottle from the floor. Just as slowly, he stood up, taking a small step forward, holding the bottle out to you. You could reach it, but you’d have to stretch, so you shifted to the edge of your stool, never taking your eyes off his, but just as you touched plastic, your fingers slowly slipping over the bottle, your stool rocked, someone in the sea of bodies breaking loose and crashing against you. With your heels still hooked on the rung, you fully expected to faceplant, but instead of a face full of sticky wood floor, you got a face full of leather and hard muscle, Juice and Happy both having stepped forward to catch you.

“Hey, fucker.” The sound rumbled across your skin, goose flesh following in its wake as two sets of arms became one, Happy going after the man that ran into you.

“You okay?” Juice asked, hands firm on your waist.

It was at that moment you realized both your hands were on his arms, the smooth skin warm under your finger tips. It must have taken as long as it felt to answer because a smile curved his mouth, his hands loosening on your waist but not leaving, his thumbs brushing back and forth on your sides.

You felt starstruck - words caught in your throat as you stared into his eyes, your body crackling with electricity where it touched his. You watched as the sparks reached his eyes, a buzz settling so deep in your belly that your legs started to shake.

“Come on,” he’d said, shifting you under his arm, walking slightly in front of you as he pushed his way through the bodies. The sounds of the clubhouse were muffled, nothing breaking through the hum in your head that had started when your skin met his. He led you down a hallway you hadn’t been before, pushing open a door you’d never seen, into a room you didn’t know existed.

There was a low light shining through the small window but before you could even make out anything in its glow, Juice had you pushed against the closed door, his mouth on yours.

Which still doesn’t make sense, but here you are. And you aren’t going to ask twice.

He has his full body pressed against you, holding you up as your nerves misfire at every place he’s touching you, whether it’s with flesh, denim or leather.

Your elbows are on his shoulders, hands falling to his head, fingers seeking out the peach fuzz sides and stripe of hair between them. He shudders when you lightly rake your nails over his scalp, breaking the kiss with his forehead pressed against yours.

His breath is hot, making the air you're taking not as refreshing as it could be in the cool room but you won’t dare complain.

His hands slide from the door back to your hips, easily finding where your top meets the hem of your pants, parting the materials until fingers meet skin. The touch arcs across your body, every hair standing on end as he slips a finger into your waistband, tugging lightly down, making his intentions obvious.

“This okay?” His eyes are so close to yours, the deep brown taking over your thoughts for a moment until you feel his other hand tighten on waist, pulling you back to the present. “Okay?” he asks again, firmer this time.

You barely complete your nod before he bends, hooking his hands behind your thighs, sliding you up the door. You don’t even have time to worry about your weight before you end up on a bed you didn’t even know was there, your legs wrapped around his waist.

His hands are rough, tearing clothing, digging at your flesh in a way that belies the sweet eyes and soft smiles he was giving you just minutes ago. “Too much,” he grunts, shredding your top when it becomes tangled in your arms. The tear of material is unexpected and causes your muscles to clench, causing your sudden awareness of just how wet you are.

The realization is lost in the next moment, Juice falling onto you like a man starving, tongue and lips exploring every inch of skin he just uncovered from collarbone to navel. Your hands find his scalp again, remembering the way he shuddered when your nails scraped over his tattoos, doing it again. This time, it triggers his teeth, snarls followed by bites matching the intensity of your touch. You quickly use this to your advantage, leaving crescent shapes on the crown of his head that match bite marks on your breasts.

He is growling by the time he reaches your pants, again tearing at the material, dragging it and his nails down your legs in a frenzy, throwing your shoes off your feet as well. He stands fully then, staring at you - naked and panting in front of him. Even with your eyes adjusting to the darkness, there’s still not enough light to make out all of him, his face cast in shadows but you can just make out the bulge behind the fly of his jeans.

“Please.”

The word startles you before you realize it was you who said it.

“Please what?” The words weren’t exactly harsh, but they felt like the words of a man straining to hold back a monster, a man barely maintaining his grasp on civility.

You whine, any words you’d say are caught on the need choked in your throat. He doesn’t move but you can see the strain in his body, the air around him vibrating with a need you aren’t quite sure why he won’t act on.

You bring your feet to the outside of his hips, trying to pull him closer, pull down his jeans and lift your hips at the same time, doing your best to show him what you need, your fingers tangled in the bedsheets at your side, instinct telling you not to reach for him in that moment.

“Tell him what you need.”

The new voice in the room startles you so completely that your legs drop, thighs clenching together in modesty. Juice doesn’t move though, still looming over you, having absolutely no reaction to the addition of someone else in the room.

Focusing a little clearer now, you can see Juice staring down at your body, the want clear on his face, his hands clenched so hard at his sides that every vein on his arm is standing in contrast as his chest rises and falls rapidly, nostrils flared. Next to him is Happy, giving you the same intense look as from across the bar, the effect intensified by your nudity.

“Tell him,” Happy coaxes again with a small tilt of his head.

You should hesitate. You should be scared. You should ask questions. You should be weirded out by what’s happening. You should get up and gather your clothes and your dignity and go home. You should leave and never come back. But what you should do isn’t always what you actually do.

What you actually do is say, “Fuck me. Hard.”

The snarl that rips through the room barely feels human, the world spins and you are on your stomach on the bed, your knees tucked beneath you, hands gripped on the other side of the narrow mattress. Clinks of metal and the drag of leather fill the room, Juice rapidly shedding his clothes as quickly as he stripped you of yours. A hand touching your face makes you jump.

Your eyes open and Happy is kneeling in front of you, staring directly into your soul. It’s like a spell, your physical forms falling away as you get lost in his eyes, something so captivating about him that you can’t look away, even when you feel Juice notch at your opening.

Happy’s eyes shift between yours for a second before he gives a slight nod and Juice slams into you, your soul crashing back into your physical body, filling every crevice, engulfing your space in the universe to a level of completeness you’ve never felt before.

The heat radiating from inside you causes an instant sheen of sweat, Juice’s punishing grip on your hips tightening even further, holding you in place, guaranteeing you are going to be wearing marks of the moment for days to come, a reminder that this isn’t a fever daydream spawned from loneliness.

One thrust and you feel on the verge of coming. Everything in you feeling so compact and tight, surprised he even found the room to enter you. You begin to pant, pushing a little further up on your elbows to give your lungs space to expand. Happy reaches out and grabs your shoulders, his hands feeling cool on your damp skin.

“Don’t move,” he says quietly, the sound almost lost in the growl coming from deep in Juice’s chest.

Your complaint is sucked backward out of you when Juice withdraws, allowing precious space for your lungs to expand but it lasts only a second before his hips hit yours so hard, every molecule of air leaves your body on a grunt.

The following thrust is just as brutal, Happy’s hands still braced on your shoulders, holding you in place, forcing you to take every ounce of power in Juice’s thrust, not allowing the momentum to carry you through to a place of forgiveness.

Your skin is hot, you can feel your wetness on your thighs, Juice leaving no room for it on the inside, having stretched you beyond what you ever thought you could take, going deeper than you ever thought possible, touching things that have never been touched. Everything is too much and not enough, your body teetering on the precipice of pleasure and pain, not yet deciding which way to fall.

You want to make noise, you want to scream, you want to moan, you want to gasp, say please, say more, say anything, but your throat burns worse than it did at the bar, the lack of air beginning to make you dizzy until fingers softly touch your face.

“Breathe, little girl.” Happy has never stopped staring at you but your eyes finally focus on his again and you suck in mouthfuls of air, the coolness of it feeling divine on your throat, your body heaving, trying to replenish its oxygen supply.

Just as smirk twists his lips, Juice starts again, his thrusts wild and punishing but not nearly as deep without Happy bracing your shoulders.

Your body goes limp, the only thing holding you is Juice’s grip on your hips and Happy cupping your face, stopping you from smothering yourself in the blankets. Your eyes go unfocused, Happy becoming a blur of tears. That’s when he starts to whisper things like, “Good girl. Good and strong. Beautiful, too. Taking it so well.”

You come. And come. And come. Your walls flutter and don’t stop. Neither does Juice. The tears flow with Happy’s words, which also don’t stop. Ecstasy making the time warp, faster and slower, higher and lower, everything and nothing until it stops. The body behind you stilling before collapsing on top of you, breath hot on your neck before falling beside you on the bed. You whine at the emptiness, the cold air on your hot, wet flesh, feeling exposed and naked in a way you’d hadn’t yet. Your body throbs, sore and spent, unable to move but needing to.

Something soft and plush touches your skin, causing you to jerk in surprise. “Shhh,” fills the room, a sound you now instantly recognize as Happy. He wraps the fabric around your body - a towel, robe, or blanket, you aren’t sure and don’t care.

There’s barely any room left on the bed with Juice sprawled across it, already lightly snoring but Happy solves it quite effectively by giving him a shove until he rolls off the end. Juice hits the ground with a thud and a grunt but doesn’t get up. Happy is already helping you roll to your side, stretching out your arms and legs, keeping you cocooned in softness and protected from the chilly room.

You moan as feeling returns to your limbs, the sound rattling out of your abused throat. Happy gives a low laugh as he crawls into bed next to you, his leathers gone, pulling you to drape across his t-shirt covered chest. You lay there, catching your breath, no two brain cells firing at the same time, head empty of thoughts.

“You did good,” Happy says again, the words rumbling under your ear. You make a sound of agreement, focusing on nothing more than his fingers trailing over your skin. His touch slows, syncing with the beats of your heart, the last thing you hear before you fully drift off is a murmured “Such a fucking good girl,” from the other end of the bed.

PART 2

𝐉𝐀𝐗

・At first you think he's forgotten which day it was

・Until he leaves the bed, and comes back with your favourite flowers.

"Happy Valentine's Day, babe."

・Warmth spills into your veins, and you beam at him

・His hair is still sticking out everywhere and you lean forward to tame it.

・Jax lets you, shaking his head slightly.

"Thank you," you breathe out. A little giddy.

・You've always yearned for Jax, and he has yearned just as much for you

・Everyone could see it, but neither of you recognised it

・Until Opie pointed it out to Jax, and since then, you've been married

𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐄

・He leaves the bed early, gathering all he's made for you

・Between jobs and club business, he made you an image from the steel used in the shop

・To say he surprised you was an understatement

・You didn't think someone would care enough about you to take such time and effort to create something for you

・When he came back to the bedroom, he kissed you awake and held it up for you to see

・The smile on your face couldn't be brighter

・Opie was so gentle in showing it to you, Hoping for excitement but doing his best not to show his expectation

・But you were ecstatic in your reaction

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" You pounced on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐒

・Lets you sleep in, letting you rest (you're gonna need it...)

・Makes a big breakfast and lays it all out on the dining room table

・There's a boquet of flowers next to you in bed, they're your favourite kind

・And when you bring them into the kitchen, he gets out a vase for you

"Aye, ye slept well then," he says, a small hint of mischief in his eyes

・You nod and walk towards him, leaning on your tippy toes to kiss him

・Then you undo his pants as well as your own and lean over a chair

"Come get your thanks, you old Scot-"

𝐓𝐈𝐆

・The first present you received was his head between your legs.

・It's a very Tig-type of present. One that you're used to...

・The warmth of his tongue lapped at your core, gutteral moans left his lips, he kissed and sucked and you groaned.

"Morning, sweetheart," he lifted his head for a moment and then returned to what he was doing (making you even more wet)

・You whimper, gripping hold of his hair and pulling slightly. You can't help yourself.

・Tig gives you a few light bites on your thighs, and using his nose, smears your wetness over your cunt.

"Tiggy-" He was playing with you too much; bringing you to the edge then leaving you there.

"Sorry baby," he murmurs against you. "Just want you to have a good valentines day..."

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘

・Happy is the type of man to get flowers for not only you, but also his sister(s) and his mother.

・But you are the first most important person in Happy's life

・There's more than just flowers for you.

・There's jewellery - the solid gold kind ... (did he steal it ... I don't know)

・When he first sees you, he wraps an arm around your waist and gently places the flowers in your arms.

"I love you," he whispers, so only you can hear.

・He takes you out to dinner, somewhere you're both comfortable and then to a bar if you feel like it

・Valentine day is all about you, even though you gave him a gift, his focus is on your happiness

𝐉𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐄

・He's the kind of man to go all out for Valentines Day.

・Flowers, chocolate, teddy bear - anything with hearts on it

・Juice gets a little embarrassed when you see everything. He wants you to love it, but he's a tad sheepish.

・The flowers are a large bouquet of red roses, with a small card that says "I love you forever."

・He wants to go out to a fancy dinner, but you don't want to; you'd rather stay at home and thank him for the presents...

・You call him into the loungeroom and watch as he walks over to you.

・Already on your knees, barely anything on, Juice looms over you with his length at eyesight.

・Hard and leaving a wetness against his jeans, you pull his cock free and start licking.

After spending the next three hours looking for the deed with no success, James was spent, but as he tried to close his eyes to sleep, nothing came. So he sat hunched by the crackling fireplace in his dimly lit study, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows across his chiseled face. His almond-shaped green eyes, magnified behind smoky spectacles, glinted with a predatory intensity as he meticulously arranged various herbs, roots and vials on the worn wooden floor before him. The musky scent of burning incense and earthy aromas filled the air, suffusing the room with a hypnotic ambiance. With deft fingers, James selected a small pouch from his vest pocket and carefully poured its contents into his palm. Shimmering like moonlit snowflakes, the sacred powder of ayahuasca seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy. He reverently tipped the glittering substance into a clay bowl and added a splash of bitter bark tea, swirling the concoction with his fingers and covering his face with it.

As the pungent vapor wafted upward, James inhaled deeply, feeling his senses expand and heighten. The world around him began to undulate, colors bleeding into one another like wet ink on parchment. His consciousness drifted away, dissolving into the swirling fog, as he blew a white powder in the fire and chanted unknown words. Finally, he started chewing on a piece of flesh, and across town, nestled within the opulent confines of a grand Victorian manor, Grace Chambers slept comfortably in her lavish four-poster bed. The silken sheets felt cool against her porcelain skin, a stark contrast to the rising heat surrounding her body. Her chestnut locks cascaded across the pillow in tousled waves as she breathed in deeply, as if drawing the very essence of the night air into her lungs.

An indescribable sensation crept over Grace, a tingling anticipation that caused goosebumps to erupt along her arms. She felt drawn, almost magnetized, by an irresistible force. James’ name danced upon her lips, barely a whisper in the stillness of the darkened room. "You came." "I said I would," he said, his voice a low growl. "I always keep my promises." In the shadowed depths of a sprawling forest, James and Grace found themselves entwined. The dappled moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, painting their bodies in ephemeral silver. Their naked flesh seemed to glow, radiant and otherworldly beneath the celestial light.

Grace's eyes fluttered open to behold James towering above her, his chiseled form silhouetted against the night sky, he looked just like he used to, except now he was covered in tribal tattoos and many scars that just made him even more irresistible. Those intense green eyes bore into her very soul, transfixing her with their sheer magnetism. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a tangible force that ignited the very marrow of her bones. She did not remember how she got there, but she never wanted to leave. 

"James," she breathed, his name falling from her lips like a sacred incantation. "What is this sorcery?" A slow, enigmatic smile played across James’ lips as he lowered himself down onto her waiting body. "This, my dear Grace," he purred, his breath warm against her ear, "is but a taste of the heights of ecstasy that await us." Grace shuddered at his words and husky voice, her body responding with a fervent hunger she had never before experienced. She ached to be touched, to be consumed by this enigmatic man who had so effortlessly infiltrated her dreams. James' hands roamed her body with a reverent worship, his fingers tracing the delicate curves of her face, the graceful arch of her neck. Lower they roamed, teasing and tormenting, until they finally came to rest upon the full swell of her breasts. “These, I missed,” he said as she moaned at his touch. His thumbs circled the hardened peaks, igniting a fierce inferno within her core. 

James' mouth trailed a path of molten fire down her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her collarbone. His tongue laved the delicate buds of her breasts, circling and flicking until she cried out, her fingers tangling in his inky hair. "James," she gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "Please..." He raised his head to meet her gaze, his green eyes gleaming with untold secrets. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face as he reached down between their bodies, his fingers delving into her slick heat. Grace threw her head back, her body convulsing as his skilled digits worked their magic. “This feels just as I remember,” she said, gasping. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her, threatening to tear her apart. She could feel herself spiraling toward the precipice of ecstasy, teetering on the razor's edge of oblivion.

Grace gasped, her back arching off the forest floor as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt herself dissolving, her very essence fusing with James', two souls entwined in a primal dance as old as time itself. James' lips descended upon hers in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into the honeyed depths of her mouth. He swallowed her breathless moans as he finally claimed her fully. His hips ground against hers, the rigid length of his arousal pressing insistently against her most intimate place. Grace writhed beneath him, her body undulating like the ocean's tide. She could feel his desire, pulsing and throbbing with an almost feral intensity. She wanted him, craved him with an insatiable hunger that bordered on madness. Grace gazed up at James with wide, luminous eyes, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. "James," she gasped, her voice thick with emotion and sated desire. "I can't imagine life without you, without your touch. This feels so real. How?"

James smiled down at her, a slow, sensual curve of his lips that sent shivers down her spine. "Shh, my sweet Grace," he purred, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of her face. "There are forces in this world that mere mortals cannot begin to comprehend. Powers that bind the very fabric of reality." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I have learned to harness these energies, to bend them to my will. With the right rituals and offerings, I can pierce the veil between worlds and come to you in your dreams, but this is actually really happening, even if you think you’re only dreaming." Grace shuddered, her body responding to his words even as her mind reeled at the implications. "So this is truly happening?" she whispered. "We are together, truly and fully?" James nodded, his green eyes glinting with mischief and unbridled lust. "Indeed we are, my love. And I intend to make the most of our precious time together."

His hands roamed her body once more, caressing and teasing until she was writhing beneath him with renewed need. "I want to taste every inch of you," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "To explore every secret hollow and crevice until I know you better than you know yourself." Grace arched her back, offering herself up to his hungry gaze. "Yes," she breathed. "Take me, James. Make me yours forever." James chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending delicious tremors through her core. "Oh, I intend to, my dear. I'm going to worship this exquisite body of yours until you forget your own name." He descended upon her then, his mouth trailing hot kisses across her skin. He lavished attention on her breasts again, suckling and nipping at the sensitive peaks until she was crying out with wanton abandon.

His lips continued their downward journey, blazing a trail of fire over her quivering belly. He paused at the apex of her thighs, his breath teasing her most intimate flesh. "I'm going to devour this sweet pussy of yours," he promised, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I'm going to lick and suck until you're dripping with my essence." Grace moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily as she anticipated his touch. James grinned up at her, his eyes glinting with wicked intent. Slowly, torturously, he lowered his mouth to her aching core. His tongue delved into her folds, swirling and flicking against her sensitive bud. Grace cried out, her fingers tangling in her own hair as he feasted upon her like a man starved. He lapped at her honeyed nectar, drinking deeply of her essence as he drove her ever higher toward the pinnacle of ecstasy. "James," she gasped, her voice ragged with pleasure. Her right hand found its way to his hair. "Don't stop,” she whispered. James lifted his head, his chin glistening with her arousal. "Never," he vowed, his eyes burning into hers. "I will never stop worshipping this glorious body of yours."

He surged up her body once more, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. Grace could taste herself on his lips, a heady aphrodisiac that sent her spiraling ever closer to the edge. With a single, powerful thrust, James entered her once more. “Does it ever feel like this with that man of yours?” “No, never,” she was out of breath. Grace met his every stroke, her hips undulating in perfect harmony with his. She could feel the coil of tension within her belly tightening with each passing moment, the pressure building to a fever pitch. He filled her completely, stretching her deliciously as he moved within her. Their bodies undulated together, lost in a primal dance. "I want to feel you come undone beneath me," James rasped, his hips driving into hers with relentless intensity. "I want to feel your sweet little cunt clenching around my cock as you scream my name." Grace could only moan in response, her world narrowing to the delicious friction of their joining. She could feel the tension building within her, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might burst. "Come for me" James commanded, his voice a low, hypnotic growl. "Let me feel your pleasure." With an earth-shattering thrust, Grace shattered around him. Her body convulsed, her inner walls clenching around his throbbing length as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. 

James followed suit moments later, with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt within Grace's shuddering depths. She felt his hot seed spilling into her, filling her with his essence even as she tumbled over the edge into mind-shattering ecstasy. Their cries of completion echoed through the silent forest, a primal declaration of passion and desire. They collapsed together onto the soft moss beneath them, their bodies still joined in the intimate embrace of the afterglow. As they clung to each other, the dream began to fade, Grace reached for James one last time, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. "I don’t want to go. I don’t want this to ever be over.” James captured Grace's hand on his own, bringing her delicate fingers to his lips. He pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, his eyes locked with hers. "Nor do I, my sweet Grace," he murmured, "I've thought about you every day since I left. About that night we shared,"his voice low and earnest. "But fear not, for this is far from over." He trailed his fingertips along her jawline, tilting her chin up to face him. "I will find a way to make this a reality, to have you by my side, always. You have my word." Grace's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a mix of longing and hope. "Do you truly mean it?" she whispered. "Is such a thing even possible?"