starlit gg

Taehyung leaned against the balcony door, watching Jungkook without even trying to hide it.

The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them, moonlight shimmering across the water, and Jungkook—glass of wine in hand, hair tousled by the breeze—looked unreal. Effortlessly beautiful. Dangerous, even. The kind of sight that made Taehyung’s thoughts spiral before he could stop them.

Jungkook noticed the stare and smirked, slow and knowing, turning just enough for the city lights to kiss his profile. “Enjoying the view?” he teased.

Taehyung stepped closer, close enough for their shoulders to brush. “You have no idea.”

The space between them felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid. The world beyond the balcony faded into a distant hum as Taehyung rested a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, grounding himself in the warmth there. Jungkook didn’t pull away—if anything, he leaned in, their laughter soft, intimate, like a shared secret.

Their kiss came naturally, unhurried. Not rushed, not desperate—just deep enough to make Jungkook’s fingers curl around the stem of his glass, just long enough to steal the breath from Taehyung’s lungs. The ocean breeze wrapped around them as if conspiring, carrying whispered promises neither of them voiced out loud.

They stayed there for a while, foreheads pressed together, smiles lingering, hearts loud in the quiet. Whatever happened next could wait. This moment—this heat, this closeness—was enough to make the night unforgettable.

And somewhere between the sound of the waves and Jungkook’s soft laugh, Taehyung knew he was already gone.

The night in Qatar felt heavier than it should have.

Jungkook slipped into the pool slowly, the water climbing his skin inch by inch, his breath easing as the tension in his shoulders loosened. Or maybe it was the awareness — the quiet certainty that he was being watched.

Five figures stood around the pool, unmoving. Too still. Too present.

He floated onto his back, chest rising and falling, lips parting as he exhaled. When he turned his head, his eyes met theirs — not all at once, but one by one. None of them looked away immediately. That alone made his breath hitch.

The water lapped softly against the pool’s edge as he drifted closer, fingers brushing the tiles. He rested his arms there, shoulders bare now, skin warm despite the night air. Someone shifted their stance. Another took a slow breath. He felt it — the change — like pressure in the air.

Jungkook swallowed, gaze flicking up again, lingering this time. His lashes were damp, eyes dark, unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and charged, broken only by the sound of his breathing — slower now, deeper.

No one touched him.

They didn’t need to.

When he finally pulled himself out of the pool, towel draped loosely around him, he passed close enough to feel heat radiating from them. Close enough to sense restraint vibrating beneath calm exteriors.

Back in his room, lying awake, Jungkook stared at the ceiling, pulse still uneven.

The memory of their eyes followed him.

And somehow, that made it harder to sleep.

It’s not sex if I don’t put it in,Caleb whines. Please? Please I’ll be so good. You know how good I am to you, please just let me have this. He buries his head in your chest, looking up at you through his lashes. His pout is disgustingly cute as he rubs himself against you.

I’ll be a good boy. I just wanna rub. I won’t do anything else, ok? You begrudgingly give him your permission and he instantly changes. Wrapping his arms around you tighter, he mouths at your breasts as he ruts into your pelvis. Muffling his grunts and breaths on your breasts. You gasp as the friction reaches your core, warming you from the inside.

Can I play with your breasts? Please, it would make me so happy. You wanna make me happy right? I know you do.Caleb gasps out a soft moan when his hands palm your breasts and he stills. Princess? Don’t get mad at me please? I just want to take this one thing.He whispers. You feel the telltale sign of his evol as pressure builds over your body. You’re held in place as he slowly pulls back from you.

Beautiful. You’re so pretty. My princess. I love you. Don’t be mad ok? Trailing his hands around your nipples, you gasp at the contact. Caleb, what?You manage to ask, but immediately after, the pressure around your neck intensifies, preventing you from making out words, only sounds. Hnn!You protest. I know, I know princess. Forgive me.His hands leave your body to pull your panties off and angle your legs to his liking. Hiking them above his shoulders, he gets a perfect view of your cunt. Slightly damp from his humping. Licking his fingers, he runs the wetness around, spreading it. Gorgeous.He breathes. Running his fingers along your slick cunt he toys with your clit. Circling and drawing stars around it. You try to squirm but your hips are held down by his evol, leaving you to take more and more of his ministrations.

So wet for me.Caleb presses a kiss to your ankle as he undoes his pants. Mmm! I know, I know, but it’s ok, I’m not going to put it in.His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he places a chaste kiss on your clit then your entrance. So perfect. Just for me right, princess?His eyes darken and he grips your leg tighter. Just for me. Right?He grits his jaw when you don’t respond. Princess.His stare burns into your cunt. He brings a hand up and slaps your cunt. Ngh!Caleb’s eyes soften at your cry. Of course, my princess wouldn’t let anyone else see this pretty cunt.He soothes the slap with gentle circles around your clit. Pumping his cock a couple of times, he brings it up to your cunt. You make small sound of protest. Shh shhh. Don’t worry, I won’t go all the way. It's not sex if I don’t put it in.He says as he slides his cock against your cunt. Delicious friction reaching your senses as you whimper. So good for me, aren’t you? Your little cunt is drooling for my cock right?Caleb groans as you pulse against him. Rutting his hips, his cockhead nudges your clit, causing you to cry out. Look at it, my cock is kissing your little clit. How cute. Make some more little noises for me princess, you sound beautiful.

Ngh.He grunts as he rubs his cock against you. Every now and then his cockhead notches on your entrance, and every time like clockwork, he grunts, holding himself back. So good for me, princess.He groans. Like a switch, your building pleasure snaps, careening yourself off the cliff, cumming. He grips your hips hard as he feels your greedy cunt pulse against his cock. The cockhead notches on your entrance again and with the tiniest push, it starts opening up so sweetly for him.

Oh princess, do you want me in here? Your answering shake, makes him pause and grip your hips harder. If not me, who else are you saving yourself for,he growls. Look at your cunt, it’s practically begging for me to make it feel good. At your whimper and budding tears, he leans down and wipes the baby tears.

Princess… Please, just the tip even. I need to feel you pulse around me. It’s just the tip. It’s not sex.Caleb kisses your forehead at your defeat. You could never say no to him after all. Pushing just the tip in, he groans at your walls wrapping around him so tightly.

Such a nice pussy, welcoming me home so sweetly. Thrusting his hips in and out he pops the cockhead out before pushing back in and repeating that over and over. A small whisper of sorrybarely leaves his lips before he sinks completely home. His forehead resting on yours as your cervix is kissed by his cock. Your ensuing gasp draws in his breath as he breathes you in and fills you completely.

Princess, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You were just so good and I couldn’t stand leaving you so unfilled while you were being so good for me. I just wanted to make you feel good. Princess, forgive me. You just felt so so good.He rasps out, hips stilling as he spills inside. You’re doing so well, so good for me. Just for me. You were made just for me. My beautiful princess.

Your birthday was just another day of drills and reports until you returned to your quarters to find Caleb sitting in your chair, the room filled with the scent of lilies and expensive wine. He looked up as you entered, a small, dark gift box sitting on his lap. "You're late," he noted, though there was no real anger in his voice. He stood up and walked toward you, the box held out in his hand.

Inside was a necklace—a delicate chain of obsidian with a single, glowing purple shard at the center. "It’s a piece of the core from my first command," he explained, his fingers deft as he moved behind you to fasten it. The cold metal felt like a brand against your skin. "It’s a tracker," he whispered into your hair, his honesty more frightening than a lie. "So I can find you anywhere in the galaxy. Even if the stars go out. Happy birthday. You’re never going to be lost again, because I’m never going to stop watching."

The flight simulator hissed as the hydraulics reset, leaving you slumped in the pilot's seat, breathless. Caleb didn't offer a hand up. He leaned against the cockpit’s rim, his white sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking down at you with a mixture of professional disappointment and something much more predatory. "Your grip on the thrusters is too hesitant," he noted, his voice a low vibration in the small space. He climbed into the cramped seat behind you, his large frame pressing you forward until you were trapped between the controls and his chest.

His hands covered yours on the flight stick, his skin hot and calloused. "Like this," he whispered, his breath stirring the hair at your nape. He forced the stick forward, the movement aggressive and uncompromising. "You have to take what you want with total authority. If you hesitate, the void swallows you." He leaned in closer, his jaw brushing your temple as he tightened his hold on your wrists. "Do you understand? Or do you need me to stay here and guide every single one of your movements until you forget how to breathe without my lead?"

The air in the isolation chamber was thick, saturated with the scent of rain-dampened cedar and something metallic—the unmistakable signature of a high-level Alpha losing his grip. You had been sent in to deliver the inhibitors, a dangerous task for a Beta, but Caleb had refused anyone else. As the door hissed shut, you saw him. He was hunched over the central table, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge. His flight jacket was discarded, his white shirt damp with sweat and clinging to the powerful muscles of his back.

"I told them... not to send you," he groaned, his voice a guttural rasp that vibrated in your chest. When you stepped closer to administer the injection, he moved with a speed that defied logic. In an instant, you were pinned against the reinforced glass, his face buried in your neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like safety," he murmured, his voice breaking. His teeth grazed your scent gland—a claim, even if you couldn't be marked. "I could tear this base apart right now, and all I want is to stay right here, buried in you." He pulled back, his purple eyes blown wide, dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with the mission. "Give me the inhibitors, or don't. But if you stay another second, I won't be responsible for what I do to keep you in this room forever."

The mess hall was a cacophony of clattering trays and loud laughter, a stark contrast to the sterile quiet of the flight decks. You were seated with a few tactical officers, the conversation light and distracting enough to make you forget, for a moment, the weight of the silver moonstone in your pocket. Beside you, a young lieutenant named Silas was leaning in close, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair as he recounted a botched landing simulation. You laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and for a heartbeat, the tension of the week eased.

That was until the room went abruptly quiet. The atmosphere shifted, the air growing heavy and charged. You didn't need to look up to know who had entered. Caleb stood near the entrance, his orange and black flight jacket unzipped just enough to reveal the stark white of his shirt. He wasn't looking at the officers or the food lines; his purple eyes were fixed entirely on you—and more specifically, on Silas’s hand near your shoulder. He didn't storm over. He didn't shout. He simply walked to a nearby table and sat alone, his posture perfectly straight, his gaze never wavering. It was a silent, chilling assessment. Silas, sensing the predator in the room, quickly withdrew his hand and found an excuse to leave. When you finally dared to meet Caleb’s eyes, you saw it—not the "big brother" warmth you grew up with, but the cold, unyielding possessiveness of a man who had seen the edge of the universe and decided that you were the only thing in it worth claiming.

6:30am

The sun peeks through the blinds, birds chirping softly outside — a comfortably warm morning waking up in Xavier’s bed. I shift slightly in his arms, careful not to wake him, but his hold tightens anyway and he nuzzles his face into my neck, breath warm against my skin.

6:40am

After lingering in that quiet comfort for a while, he begins to stir as well.

“Morning, Xavier,” I murmur, placing a small kiss on his nose.

“Mmh, morning,” he replies, moving closer and pressing slow kisses along my neck. I giggle at first, fingers threading through his hair, but the sound fades when the kisses linger longer than before — unhurried, purposeful, sending a shiver down my spine.

He shifts closer again, heat pooling where our bodies meet, and it becomes obvious why his attention has changed.

“Xavier, you’re really like a rabbit sometimes,” I tease softly, ruffling his hair.

He answers by moving against me again, a quiet, needy sound leaving his throat — not a question, more like a hope.

“Can I just…” He trails off, breath uneven.

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, heart already racing.

That’s all the permission he needs. His movements grow bolder, more deliberate, one hand sliding beneath my sleep shirt, thumb brushing slowly as if testing how much I can take. His kisses deepen, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.

Clothes are nudged aside and forgotten on the floor, and he guides me carefully until I’m settled beneath him, his weight grounding but charged with intent. The closeness is almost overwhelming — every shift, every breath magnified.

He starts slow, letting the tension build, drawing soft sounds from my throat that I don’t bother holding back. The rhythm he finds is unhurried but relentless, each movement sending heat curling low in my stomach.

“Y/n,” he murmurs, voice strained, “you feel… really good. Can I go faster?”

“Yes,” I breathe, fingers tightening in the sheets.

He does, pace sharpening just enough to make my thoughts blur. One hand stays steady, attentive, making sure I don’t drift too far as sensation crests higher and higher.

“Xavier,” I gasp, barely holding together.

He says my name like a promise, focus entirely on me, until the tension snaps and warmth rushes through my body. He stays close, prolonging it just enough that I have to hide my face, breath shaking.

Not long after, he falters too, breath stuttering as he finally stills, collapsing beside me with a breathless laugh.

For a moment, we just lie there, chests rising and falling, before I roll onto my side. He pulls me close immediately, arm firm around my waist, forehead resting against mine.

Once we’ve caught our breath, he reaches for the drawer beside the bed, grabbing tissues so we can clean up before curling back into each other’s arms.

Wrapped together again, warm and deeply content, sleep comes easily.

“I love you,” we say at the same time, laughing softly before drifting off again, the morning still ours.

You just came out of the bathroom to find Martin standing at the vending machine in the hallway, inserting coins. He doesn't press coffee, doesn't press sports drinks. He presses something you normally never touch—strawberry milk. Since when do you drink this? you walk over and ask. He presses the dispenser, takes out the pink carton, and hands it to you. For you, he says, tone as calm as handing you a business card. For me? Yeah, he inserts the straw, pushes it into your hands. Last time you came to the studio, didn't you say you had low blood sugar and wanted something sweet? That was three months ago. You mentioned it in passing, not even to him. How do you remember? you hold the strawberry milk, your fingertips feeling a bit cold. Not just this, he leans against the vending machine, arms crossed, his gaze carrying a knowing smile. You don't like lighting that's too bright, so every time we work together, I turn off the overhead lights in the lounge. When you write lyrics, you like to use your right hand, but your left hand unconsciously rubs your middle finger. When you're nervous, the frequency increases. You habitually listen to the bass section of a demo first. If you're not satisfied, you tilt your head to your right shoulder and gently shake it. With each sentence he speaks, your heart sinks an inch. These details—you haven't even noticed them yourself. Why? you ask him. Have you been observing me this whole time? He doesn't answer directly, instead raises his hand and gently brushes aside that strand of hair falling over your forehead. The touch is gentle but carries intense pressure. You say 'Don't overthink it—just feel it,' he throws his signature phrase back at you, but with mockery in his tone. I'm not thinking, he corrects you. I'm analyzing. You're like a song I've heard countless times. Every note's trajectory, every breath's rhythm—I can predict them all in advance. But I don't want to be analyzed, you're a bit angry. He laughs, that smile carrying fatal allure. When did I say this was analysis? He moves closer to you, voice low. This is sampling. I've sampled every detail about you, then secretly mixed them into my life. Now when I see strawberry milk, I associate it with your fatigue; when I see overhead lights, I think of your sensitivity. You're my loop. I keep repeating you until you become my baseline. You feel your cheeks starting to burn, blood rushing to your head. What exactly are you trying to say? He reaches out, lightly pinching the wrist of your hand holding the strawberry milk, the pressure carrying just-right ambiguity. I'm saying that the 'ambiguous relationship' between us, he pauses, his gaze so serious you can't escape, didn't start when you think it started. It started synchronizing with my BPM (beats per minute) from the day I remembered you. He doesn't kiss you, doesn't make any crossing movements. He just stands there, using his most skilled, logically rigorous expression to tell you a fact: you've long been completely captured by him. You lower your head, forcefully suck a mouthful of that sweet strawberry milk. The sweetness instantly fills your mouth, but what you taste is a fatal ambiguity with cold calculation. He's not testing. He's declaring.

The wipers swept mechanically across the windshield, making a dull scraping sound. Seoul's rainy season was always irritating. Traffic had been deadlocked for half an hour. Red taillights connected into a river of light in the rain. The car was quiet, only low jazz flowing from the speakers. Martin sat in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel, knuckles tapping lightly to the rhythm. He didn't look rushed at all; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying this trapped moment. Because you were in the passenger seat. Suddenly, he turned the music down, turned sideways, and unbuckled his seatbelt. The friction of the leather seat made you turn your head. He was leaning in. In the narrow space, the air instantly became thin. The faint smell of tobacco on him mixed with the dampness of the rain, creating a unique, dizzying atmosphere. He didn't do anything excessive, just reached over to push up the sun visor that had fallen down. But he didn't retreat immediately. He held the pose, arm braced against the seat back behind you, caging you in this tiny corner. The sound of rain outside seemed to amplify, as if to mask the heartbeat inside the car. His gaze landed on your collarbone, then slowly moved up.

You're trembling.

It was a statement. You couldn't deny it. At this distance, with this atmosphere, with the undisguised focus in his eyes, anyone would tremble. He laughed, a faint, playful sound spilling from his throat. He lifted his hand, the back of his fingers gently grazing the shell of your ear. It was already burning red.

If only the rain would never stop.

He whispered, sitting back and buckling his belt, as if that moment full of tension had never happened. Only you were left in the aftershock, unable to calm down for a long time.

Look at you. When did you get like this? So submissive and docile? Is it those... other men you've been hanging around with? Well it doesn't matter now, I'm gonna show you what a real man is like. Caleb growled next to your ear as he fucked you into your bed with the full intention of breaking you or it.

At first you were happy to see him. Even if he seemed a little bit different. But this was never the way you imagined he'd make love to you. Could this even be called making love? Because his love doesn't feel like the love you used to get from him.

Every sound was rough, every look judgmental, every thrust painful, every touch scolding.

He smirked as you let out a whimper, weather it was from pain or pleasure he didn't seem to care all that much. His fingers, cold against you, kept pressing and torturing your clit to the point it became painful. This isn't about you feeling good, although I can tell that you are by the way your cunt is squeezing around me. But don't mistake that for my kindness, love. Caleb leaned in close. I waited for you. Every day that was hell I kept going because of you. But you... you forgot about me the moment other men showed up.

I never forgot. Caleb, I... always thought about you. You wanted to reach out and hold him but you only managed to struggle against the unyielding grip he had around your wrists.

Caleb smirked above you, his cock ramming itself into your pussy, creating lewd, wet, sloppy sounds. Really? When you fucked yourself with those toys you thought of me? Or when you were on all fours, desperately trying to make yourself come? What about when you were with those other guys, did you want it to be me fucking you instead?

His words hurt as much as the way he was fucking you did. I never... I haven't been with anyone... in a really long time.

Huh. Explains why this pussy is so easy. It needed a good cock. You'll never need or want for anything ever again, I'll give it all to you! The necklace hung just above your face, clicking and shining, almost like Caleb was taunting you with it. His rigid cock kept hitting your sweetspot every time his hips smacked heavily against yours, causing your back to arch and your clit to push against his fingers. So messy. God, you've become such a desperate whore in the time I've been gone. Your pussy is so good at taking cock isn't it. Mine. The only cock it'll be taking will be my cock!

Caleb pushed his fingers into your already abused pussy and curled them upwards just as his cock sank in and stilled. Ca-Caleb, Caleb, that's too much!

No it's not. No it's fucking not, I know you can take it. You can be good. If you were good for those other guys, then won't you be good for me too? His voice dropped to an almost cooing tone. Don't you want to be good for me? He asked, his fingers curling again and again, each movement sending lighting across your body until your mind went blank.

I can... I can't-! You cried out, tears spilling down your face.

You can. My love, I know you can. You will. His tone turned commanding towards the end, You will come for me. With one last cruel flick of your clit you came with a desperate whine, your voice breaking as you arched off the bed. Just then he chose to let go of your hands, allowed you to embrace him. Yes, hold onto me. I've got you, I've got you now. He chuckled against your ear, his fingers easing out of you and holding you against him with both arms as his cum filled your desperate, fucked pussyhole.

Desperate sounds kept falling from your lips as you shook against him, your clit pressing against his abs, your legs locked around his hips and pussy stretched to its limits. Ca-ah-leb...

Easy, easy, I'm here, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere, I'm never leaving you again. His words were flavored with an equal amount of a sweet promise and a dangerous threat. We're together again. Nothing will get in the way of our love. As long as we love each other, that's all that matters. The more he cooed those words in your ear the more you started to believe he was right.

The moment the door opened, you thought you saw a ghost.

Or perhaps you were dreaming—the kind of holographic delusion born from overwhelming longing.

But he was standing there. Not the polished, immaculate Federal Commander, nor the ascetic god who always buttoned his collar to the very top.

The man before you looked as if he had just crawled out of hell. His black tactical jacket was ripped, half a sleeve burned away, exposing an arm wrapped in bandages. Dried blood stained his face, making those deep violet eyes look even more profound.

He looked absolutely wretched, yet so real it made you want to cry.

The water glass in your hand dropped to the floor, shattering. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, but you felt no pain.

You...

You couldn't make a sound. Your throat felt stuffed with cotton. The name repeatedly confirmed on every casualty list was now standing at your front door.

Caleb moved. He walked with a slight limp, clearly injured in the leg. But the speed with which he came towards you was urgent, an overwhelming desperation radiating from him.

He didn't speak. He didn't even give you time to confirm he was real.

He simply slammed into you, crushing you in his embrace.

The force was so intense it felt like he was trying to choke you. The smell of blood, gunpowder, and that cold, crisp scent unique to him exploded in the narrow hallway.

It hurts...

You cried out instinctively, as his arm was pressed directly against your ribs.

But he didn't let go. He held you tighter. You felt him tremble. The man as solid as a mountain, the man who wouldn't flinch even facing death itself, was now holding you, shaking like a helpless child.

I thought I was going insane wanting you.

He whispered into your ear, his voice impossibly hoarse.

Under that damn rubble... for three days... your face was all I could see.

Your hand shook as you lifted it, touching the damp bloodstains on his back. It was real. He was warm. He was alive.

Tears broke the dam. You clutched his ripped collar for dear life, as if grasping your only lifeline.

Bastard... you liar...

You cried and cursed, hitting his chest with your fist, yet unable to hit him hard.

You said you'd come back... you're three days late! Three days!

Caleb let you vent. He lowered his head, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and took a deep, shuddering breath. It was the greed of a survivor, the euphoria of something lost and found again.

I'm sorry.

His lips brushed your skin, hot and wet.

But I crawled back, didn't I?

He lifted his head, his violet eyes bloodshot, yet terrifyingly bright. He looked at you as if you were his only faith.

I told you, even if I saw the ending...

His fingers traced your tear-streaked cheek, his touch unbearably gentle.

...I would still run to you.

Even if I had to crawl from hell.

Outside the viewport was a star sea of a billion light years. Caleb stood there, his back to you, looking into that abyss of nothingness. His silhouette looked so lonely, like a lone star ready to break from orbit at any moment. This was the last ten minutes before deployment. You knew what this meant. The mission level was top secret, and the survival rate was a single red percentage on the tactical board.

Do you really have to go?

It was pointless to ask. You knew who he was. He was the Alliance's ace, everyone's hope. But he was also your Caleb. He turned around. Against the light, you couldn't make out his expression, only seeing that something had finally shattered in those purple eyes. It was the rationality he had maintained for twenty-eight years, the composure he was proud of, utterly collapsing at this moment.

I have something to give you.

It wasn't a will. Nor a medal. He walked towards you, each step feeling like it was treading on your heart. Until he stood before you, looking down. It was an intensely intimate distance, close enough that a slight lean forward could kiss your forehead. But he stopped. Right at that hair's breadth.

I saw our ending.

The voice was light, yet deafening. He looked at you, his gaze no longer that restrained tenderness, but a desperate, yet resolute ardor. As if all the love of a lifetime was compressed into this short sentence.

But I am still running towards you.

The alarm sounded. Red lights began to flash, urging separation. He took one last deep look at you. That look contained too many things that couldn't be spoken—regret, apology, and that love that could never see the light of day. He took a step back and rendered a perfect military salute. The gesture separated you. Separated siblings, separated life and death, separated this damnable, insoluble fate.

Wait for me to come back. If it's a corpse... don't look.