"You're playing with fire, sweetheart… but don’t worry—I love the way it burns."

"JUNGKOOK'S POV

"Babe," I whine, my voice thick with sleep and longing, my lips brushing against the soft curve of her neck. She stirs in my arms, a faint huff escaping her lips as she shifts slightly, her warmth pressing against me. "What?" she murmurs, her tone a mix of exasperation and affection, though I can feel the faintest tremor of a smile in her voice.

"Stop trying to run away," I whisper, my words muffled against her skin, my grip tightening instinctively around her waist. My other hand rests firmly on the curve of her hip, anchoring her to me, ensuring she can’t slip away. "It’s too early to leave me," I add, my voice low and pleading, laced with a drowsy desperation. I nuzzle deeper into the crook of her neck, inhaling the faint scent of her—something sweet and familiar, something that feels like home.

She sighs, a soft sound that vibrates through her chest and into mine. "I have things to do today, Jungkook. You know that," she replies, her voice firm but not unkind. I can hear the resolve in her tone, the determination to be responsible, to start her day. But I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet. Not when the morning light is still so soft, not when the world outside feels so far away.

I reach for one of her arms, gently guiding it to drape over my neck, pulling her even closer. She doesn’t resist, and I feel a small victory in the way her body molds to mine, her warmth seeping into my skin. I burrow myself deeper into her, my face pressed against her chest, my breath steady and slow.

"Baby, you know it’s 7 a.m., right?" I mumble, my words slurred with sleep. My fingers trace idle patterns on her back, my touch feather-light, as if to remind her of the comfort we share in this quiet moment.

"I want to start the day early," she insists, though her voice softens as she finally tightens her arms around my neck and shoulders, her fingers threading through my hair. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but smile against her skin.

I shake my head, my nose brushing against the fabric of her shirt, the motion slow and deliberate. "No," I declare, my voice firm despite the drowsiness that clings to me. "You’re not leaving until at least eleven." My words are a promise, a vow to keep her here, to hold onto this moment for as long as I can. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to face the day without her.

"Ten," she counters, her tone final, though I can hear the faintest hint of playfulness beneath it. I groan, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my chest and into hers. My lips curl into a smile as I press a lazy kiss to her collarbone.

"10:30," I negotiate, my voice is soft but insistent. I feel her sigh again, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, her fingers continue to stroke my hair, her touch soothing and tender. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm of her breathing lull me back into a state of half-sleep. My arms remain securely around her, holding her close, as if I can keep the world at bay just a little longer.

For now, she’s mine, and I’m hers, and nothing else matters.

━━

I hear the faint click of the front door unlocking, and in an instant, I bolt upright from where I had been lounging. The door shuts softly, followed by the reassuring sound of the lock engaging, and then I see her—Y/N—rounding the corner, her arms laden with bags, her face illuminated by a radiant smile that instantly lights up the room. My own smile spreads uncontrollably across my face, a reflex as natural as breathing. Without hesitation, she throws her arms up, bags and all, and leaps toward me, enveloping me in a bear hug that feels like coming home.

"Hey, baby," I murmur, my voice warm and tender, as I press a flurry of kisses across her face—her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose. She giggles, her smile widening as she leans into my affection, her arms tightening around my neck. I pull her closer, my hands firm on her waist, anchoring her to me, as if to assure myself that she’s really here, that this moment is real.

"Hey, Baby Bunny," she coos, her voice teasing but affectionate. I pause, pulling back slightly to look at her, my brow furrowing in mock confusion. "Baby Bunny?" I repeat, my tone is a mix of amusement and incredulity. She nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she releases her hold on me and takes a step back. "Yes," she declares, her voice firm but playful. "You look like this big, intimidating guy, but really, you're just a giant baby bunny."

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest in a show of defiance. "No, I'm not," I retorted, my voice tinged with mock indignation. Then, snapping my fingers as if to punctuate my point, I add, "Remember the time I punched that guy who drugged you? That wasn’t very 'Baby Bunny' of me, was it?"

She tilts her head, her expression softening as if to consider my argument, but then she makes a face—a subtle, almost imperceptible wince—as she glances down at her wrist. The gesture is fleeting, but it doesn’t escape my notice. Before I can say anything, she changes the subject, her tone light and casual. "Babe, can you help me bring these to the closet?"

Without hesitation, I nod, reaching for the bags in her hands to relieve the weight she’s been carrying. She smirks, knowing glint in her eyes, as I gather the bags and make my way toward the bedroom, her trailing behind me. I step into the walk-in closet, setting the bags down with a sigh. As much as I hate to admit it, I can see why she called me that—her "Baby Bunny." There’s a softness in the way I care for her, a tenderness that I can’t quite hide, no matter how much I might try to play the tough guy.

"Okay, go sit on the bed," she instructs, her voice bright and eager. "I want to show you some of the things I bought." She pops up behind me, her presence as comforting as it is electrifying. "Okay," I reply, my voice is lazy and relaxed, as I plop down onto the bed. I snatch a pillow, wrapping my arms around it and pressing my face into its softness, my eyes drifting shut for a moment.

"So, this first one," she begins, her voice tinged with excitement, "I was thinking of nights out or dates." She pauses, and I can feel her gaze on me, waiting. "Open your eyes and tell me what you think," she urges, her tone soft but insistent.

I do as she says, my eyes fluttering open, and the sight of her steals the breath from my lungs. She’s wearing a short white skirt that hugs her curves perfectly, paired with a long-sleeved top tied delicately with two strings that accentuate her waist. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, swaying gently as she moves. My throat goes dry, and I swallow hard, the heat pooling low in my abdomen as my body reacts to her undeniable allure. My dick hardens almost instantly, a visceral response to the vision before me.

She stands there, confident and radiant, waiting for my reaction. And all I can do is stare, utterly captivated, as the world around us fades into insignificance.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to shut my gaping mouth before I manage to speak. "Is there supposed to be a shirt under that?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.

She shakes her head with a teasing smirk and does a slow twirl, her movements deliberate, knowing exactly where my eyes are locked—on the curve of her arse. My breath catches as I watch, only for her to disappear from view again. "No," she says, her voice light, playful. "And it’s cuter this way."

She steps closer, the air between us thick with tension, and I know—oh, I know—she's fully aware of the effect she has on me. I swallow again, harder this time, and she smiles as if my reaction is precisely what she intended.

Her hands settle on my shoulders, and I instinctively lean back on my elbows, my gaze fixated on the delicate string holding her top together, barely keeping her breasts contained. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and an undeniable heat spreads through me as my eyelids grow heavy with desire. My fingers twitch before I lift one, slowly reaching up to tug at the fragile knot.

But she stops me.

"Nope," she says, her voice firm yet laced with amusement.

I let out a small whine, my frustration clear. "Wait—"

"Let me try something else on," she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for protest.

"But I like this," I murmured, my voice husky, my gaze refusing to leave the enticing dip of her neckline. I fight the urge to touch her, but my resolve crumbles when my hand finds its way to her knee, my fingers tracing up the smooth expanse of her thigh, drifting beneath her skirt.

She catches my wrist, halting my movements, and my eyes snap up to meet hers. There's something unreadable in her expression, a flicker of mischief mixed with restraint. "One more," she whispers, leaning down to press a lingering, warm kiss to my cheek before retreating back to the closet.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair as I try to compose myself.

And then she steps out again.

I choke on my own spit.

Sitting up immediately, I feel the heat rise to my face, my entire body growing hotter with every second I spend drinking her in.

She’s adorned in a delicate, lacy purple lingerie set that hugs her in all the right places, accentuating every soft curve, every inch of smooth skin. My eyes trail over her slowly, reverently, until they land on the matching lace socks clipped to her waist.

"Cute, right?" Y/N asks, her voice light, teasing.

I can’t even form words. I’m too busy memorising every single inch of her.

"What's the matter, Baby Bunny?" she teases, her voice light and playful, as she stands just out of reach, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. My face flushes a deep crimson, the heat spreading from my cheeks to the tips of my ears, as my eyes snap to hers, wide and slightly panicked. "Don’t call me that," I murmur, my voice low and tinged with embarrassment, though there’s a flicker of amusement in my tone that I can’t quite suppress. She merely laughs, a soft, melodic sound that dances through the air and wraps around me like a warm embrace.

"Why don’t you come over here?" I suggest, my voice dropping to a husky murmur, laced with a promise that makes her eyes sparkle with mischief. She tilts her head, considering my words for a moment before shaking it gently. "I bet you’d like that," she says, her tone teasing, "but no. We’re going to play a game instead."

A game? My brow furrows in curiosity, and I tilt my head slightly, my gaze narrowing as I study her. "What kind of game?" I ask, my voice is cautious but intrigued.

She takes a step closer, her movements deliberate and unhurried, as if she’s savoring the anticipation building between us. "I’m going to walk around in this for the rest of the day," she announces, giving a slow, deliberate spin that makes my breath catch in my throat. My eyes are drawn irresistibly to the curve of her plump ass, accentuated by the matching thong that peeks out from beneath her skirt. Her hair cascaded down her back, swaying gently at her waist, and the delicate frill of lace at the hem of her shirt only serves to make her all the more enticing.

I groan, the sound escaping me before I can stop it, and this time it’s not out of frustration but something far more primal. "It’s cheating if you wear that!" I protest, my voice strained as I try to maintain some semblance of control.

She shrugs, her expression one of an innocent nonchalance, though the glint in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. "If you win," she says, her voice sweet and coaxing, "I’ll do or get you whatever you want."

My face immediately breaks into a grin, the prospect of winning—and the possibilities it entails—filling me with a giddy excitement. "And if you win?" I ask, my tone cautious but curious.

She shakes her head, her smile soft and enigmatic. "I don’t want anything."

My eyebrow quirks up in disbelief. "Are you sure?" I press, my voice tinged with suspicion.

Her smile turns mischievous, and she taps her pointer finger against her chin, as if deep in thought. "Well," she says slowly, drawing out the word, "there is one thing."

"What is it?" I ask, my voice cautious, though I can’t help the flicker of curiosity that sparks within me.

"I wanna peg you," she says, her tone innocent, as if she’s suggesting nothing more than a casual stroll in the park.

I freeze, my entire body going rigid as her words sink in. My face flushes an even deeper shade of red, and I can feel the heat radiating from my skin as I stare at her in shock. "You’re not winning today," I say firmly, clearing my throat in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure.

She smirks, her confidence unwavering. "We’ll see," she replies, her voice light and teasing. "Anyway, what do you want if you win?"

Now it’s my turn to smirk, a slow, predatory grin spreading across my face as I lean back slightly, my eyes darkening with desire. "You have to ride my face for as long as I want," I say, my voice low and husky. I lick my lips at the mere thought, the image of her above me, lost in pleasure, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core. "You always stop before I’m done," I add, my tone tinged with a hint of complaint.

She huffs, her hands moving to her hips as she glares at me, though there’s no real anger in her expression. "You’re never satisfied when you eat me out!" she accuses, her voice rising slightly in mock indignation. "You never want to stop!"

I shrug, unapologetic. It’s true—I could spend hours between her thighs, savoring every moment, every sound, every shuddering breath. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want more. "Did the game start yet?" I ask, my voice casual, though the hunger in my eyes betrays my true intentions.

"Why?" she asks, her tone wary but amused.

"Let me touch you real quick," I say, my voice pleading, my hands twitching with the need to feel her skin beneath my fingers.

She shakes her head, her smile soft but firm. "When you touch me, it’ll be harder to resist," she says, her voice gentle but resolute. "I’m trying to help you."

"I don’t want help," I reply, my voice low and insistent. "I want to touch you before the game starts."

With that, I climb out of the bed, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides. She doesn’t move to stop me, her eyes locked on mine as I lift my hand to her cheek, my fingers sliding into the soft strands of her hair at the nape of her neck. I pull her closer, our lips meeting in a kiss that’s equal parts tender and desperate, a collision of longing and need.

She welcomes the kiss, her arms wrapping around my neck as she melts into me, her body pressing against mine. The tension in my shoulders—tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding—dissipates as my other hand travels down her waist, coming to rest on the curve of her ass. I knead and massage the soft flesh, my touch firm but gentle, and she groans into the kiss, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.

I let go of her hair, my hands sliding down to the back of her thighs, and just as I’m about to lift her up, she pulls away, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "That’s it," she says, her voice breathless but firm. "Game starts now."

She pushes against my chest, her laughter ringing out as she steps back, and I groan loudly, the sound a mix of frustration and longing. The game has begun, and I already know it’s going to be the longest day of my life.

━━

I've been working hard for three excruciating hours. Shifting uncomfortably in my sweatpants, I adjust myself once more, my gaze never wavering from Y/N, who is sprawled across the couch in the most torturous display of nonchalance. She’s watching New Girl—at least, that’s what she wants me to believe. But I know better.

She’s lying on her stomach, her supple thighs pressing deliciously into the cushions, making her already tiny waist seem even smaller. The sight of her, so effortlessly enticing, has my jaw clenched and my patience wearing thin.

Fine. If I can’t touch her, then I’ll settle for being a shameless voyeur. I grab the loveseat, turning it directly towards her before sinking into it, making myself comfortable as I watch her like she’s my favourite show.

Y/N flicks her gaze to me, her eyes narrowing the moment she realises I have no intention of moving anytime soon. With an exasperated sigh, she rolls her eyes, but I don’t see what she’s so annoyed about—I was careful not to block the television.

"You really are obvious about everything, aren’t you?" she mutters, her tone laced with amusement despite her feigned irritation.

I scoff, leaning back smugly. "I can be discreet when I want to be."

"Sure, Baby Bunny."

My entire body tenses at the name, heat creeping up my neck as I glare at her. "Stop calling me that!"

She grins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "No."

━━

"Babe, fancy making this game a little more interesting?"

I eye her warily, shifting slightly in my seat. We’re still in the same spot, thirty minutes later, tension crackling in the air between us.

"Interesting how?" I ask, my voice laced with suspicion.

She groans, pushing herself up from the couch. Instinctively, I reach out to help her, only for her to jerk back instantly, putting deliberate space between us.

"Remember, no touching," she reminds me, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

I exhale sharply through my nose. "I can’t even help you stand?"

She shakes her head with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Nope. I’ll be back," she declares before disappearing towards the stairs.

I watch her retreating figure, my gaze locked onto the sway of her hips as she jogs up the steps. Every movement—every subtle bounce—feels designed to torment me. My body reacts involuntarily, the ache between my legs intensifying, and I press down on my lap in a futile attempt to will it away.

Moments later, the sound of approaching footsteps draws my attention back to the staircase. When I lift my gaze, my breath catches in my throat.

Y/N stands before me, adorned in an entirely different lingerie set.

"What the fuck," I murmur, loud enough for her to hear.

She feigns innocence, tilting her head slightly. "What? I know you like skirts, so I changed." Then, with deliberate slowness, she twirls, allowing me a full, unobstructed view.

My eyes travel downwards, tracing the delicate lace of the sheer red skirt that barely covers her curves. My gaze locks onto the high-cut red thong peeking out from underneath, riding up her waist in a way that has my pulse hammering.

Then, I notice the details—the soft, translucent fabric of her top, the dainty little bow nestled between her breasts, teasing me, mocking my restraint. And just when I think I can’t take any more, my eyes fall to her thighs, clad in thigh-high socks attached to the hem of her skirt.

My mouth runs dry, my entire body taut with an unspent desire. The temptation is suffocating.

"The real reason I went upstairs was for this."

She steps closer, and I clench my fists against the cushions, forcing myself to remain still, to not reach for her like every fibre of my being is begging me to.

Stopping just in front of me, she extends her hand, palm up, revealing two small pills resting in the centre. My brows furrow in silent question, and she smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"It’s Viagra," she says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

I blink, my breath catching slightly in my throat. My mind scrambles for a response, but before I can even react, she pops one into her mouth and swallows it effortlessly, leaving the second pill perched in her outstretched hand.

She tilts her head at me expectantly.

I glance at the clock. It’s still early.

Fuck it.

Without further thought, I take the pill from her palm, place it on my tongue, and swallow it dry.

━━

45 minutes later

I grip the edges of the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My face is flushed, my skin burning with an unbearable heat that no amount of cold water can seem to quench. I bend forward, splashing handfuls onto my face before running my soaked hands through my hair, letting the droplets trickle down my neck.

What the fuck was I thinking?

The intensity of this pill is something else entirely. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out, every nerve in my body hyper aware, hypersensitive. Being anywhere near Y/N right now is downright dangerous—so before I do something completely reckless, I ran upstairs, away from her.

Not that it helps.

I can still feel her—her presence, her warmth, the way she’d been squirming beside me, just as affected as I am. The knowledge alone is driving me insane.

With a frustrated groan, I yank open the closet and grab a towel, aggressively rubbing it against my damp hair in an attempt to distract myself.

Then—knock knock.

My entire body stiffens, my neck snapping towards the door. I already know who it is before I even hear her voice.

"Jungkook? Are you okay?"

Fuck. Even just her voice is enough to send a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

I clear my throat, forcing a calmness into my tone that I definitely don’t feel. "Yeah, I’m fine," I whisper, hoping she doesn’t hear the strain laced in my words.

But when I open the door, Y/N is already staring at me like she knows exactly what I’m going through. Her gaze is hooded, heavy as it drags over my body, from my bare chest, down to the towel in my hand, up to my still-damp hair.

And then—

"Fuck," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.

I frown slightly, confused, until I see the way her fists clench, her lips parting ever so slightly as her pupils dilate.

"You just had to wet your hair, didn’t you?" she mutters, more to herself than to me.

Before I can fully process her words, her hands fly up, gripping the sides of my face—and then her lips crash against mine, raw and unrestrained.

I barely have time to react before she jumps on me, like a starved animal sinking its teeth into its prey.

I groan into the kiss, the sound rumbling deep in my throat as I let the towel slip from my fingers, no longer caring where it lands. My hands move instinctively—one tangling into the back of her hair, gripping firmly to keep her close, the other finding its way to the curve of her arse, squeezing possessively.

She parts her lips slightly, her tongue darting into my mouth, and I open wider, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, to take more of her. She presses herself against me, her chest flush with mine, and I can’t help but smile into the kiss.

Fuck, I love her.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, gazing at each other in a heated silence. My eyes drop to her kiss-swollen lips. "You lose," I murmur, the words barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. "Please," she scoffs, amusement flickering in her darkened gaze. "I’ll have you begging for mercy sooner or later."

Before I can retaliate, she tugs me into another kiss—just as deep, just as consuming—as I blindly walk us backwards towards the bed. The moment my legs hit the bed frame, she suddenly pulls away, stepping back just long enough to shove me down onto the mattress. I barely have time to react before I’m on my back, my head sinking into the soft sheets as she stares down at me from above.

And then she straddles me.

A guttural groan rips from my throat the instant she settles over my length, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. My hands find her hips instinctively, my fingers digging into the red mesh covering her arse as I fight to keep myself together.

Y/N grabs the delicate strap of her top, pulling it slightly, teasingly. "On or off?" she asks, her voice dripping with mischief.

My lips part, my breath shaky as my eyes drink her in. My cheeks and neck are flushed, my body burning. I swallow hard before licking my lips. "Definitely on."

My hands slide down the curves of her waist, tracing her thighs before gripping them firmly. My mind is hazy, completely overtaken by lust. "After this, put on the purple set," I mutter, my voice raw with desire, my hands greedily palming her arse before roaming up to her waist, then further to her breasts.

She beams down at me, all teeth and wicked delight, before winking. "You got it, Baby Bunny."

I barely have a moment to register the nickname—too dazed, too desperate—before she pushes me down again. I brace myself on my elbows just as she starts moving.

Her hips roll, slow and deliberate, pressing down just enough to make my head spin. Her hands splay over my chest, nails dragging slightly as she grinds against me.

A guttural moan tears from my throat with each motion, my head falling back until my gaze is fixed on the ceiling. But even that’s too much—too overwhelming. My eyes squeeze shut, my hands flying up to grip her hips in an iron hold.

"Stop," I choke out, my voice wrecked, my control hanging by a thread. "Fuck, I’m about to cum."

This only seems to encourage her. Instead of slowing down, she moves faster, grinding against me with relentless determination until my body gives in entirely. A strangled mixture of a groan and a moan rips from my throat as I spill into my sweatpants, my entire body tensing before sagging as I struggle to catch my breath.

But Y/N isn’t done.

I barely have time to recover before I feel her fingers hook into the waistband of my sweatpants, tugging them down in one swift motion. My still achingly hard cock springs free, standing tall between us. My breath hitches when she hovers just above me, her warmth teasing my length before her delicate fingers wrap around me.

A small, involuntary sound escapes me at the contact.

I don’t waste another second, my hands darting to her panties, pushing the fabric aside to grant me full access. The head of my cock grazes her slick lips, sending a shiver through both of us. She doesn’t enter me straight away—no, she teases, rubbing me along her folds, coating me in her arousal before slowly, finally, lowering herself onto me.

I hiss sharply, my hands flying to her hips as my head tips back against the pillows. "Baby, please—slower," I beg, my voice strained, barely holding onto control.

But she doesn’t.

She takes me to the hilt in one smooth motion, bottoming out with a breathless gasp of her own. A whimper tumbles from my lips, unbidden, raw. I feel her body trembling, her walls fluttering around me as she pants above me.

"I—I don’t think I can," she whines, lifting herself only to sink back down again.

Her movements are erratic at first, her thighs trembling as she adjusts to the stretch. But then—she finds her rhythm.

With each roll of her hips, her sounds change—soft whimpers turning into desperate groans, then louder, unrestrained moans that echo in the room, fuelling my already overwhelming desire. And fuck, I can’t tear my gaze away.

She’s never been this vocal before, never this unhinged—and the sight of her completely lost in pleasure has me on the verge of losing my own mind. My eyes are locked on her body, the way her breasts bounce against the sheer fabric of her top, teasing me, tormenting me.

I grit my teeth, pushing up on my elbows, my hands sliding away from her hips as she continues her relentless pace. Every fibre of my being is screaming at me to hold on, to last, but then I give in—I have to.

With a growl, I reach up, yanking down the cups of her top. Her breasts spill free, bouncing even more wildly, and I swear my vision goes black for a second.

Her eyes remain shut, her body moving purely on instinct as she takes everything I give her. And then—she grinds down, circling her hips just right—just enough to send me spiralling.

"Fuck," I groan, my head falling back as I spill inside her, waves of pleasure crashing over me so intensely that I can’t even form another thought.

For a moment, we’re both still, our chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat as we fight to catch our breath.

Then, before she can even recover, I sit up, one hand reaching for her throat, tilting her head just enough for me to capture her lips in a series of messy, open-mouthed kisses.

I devour her, nipping, sucking, leaving sloppy marks all over her neck and shoulders as my hands roam greedily over her body. One slides along the soft curve of her hip, down to her trembling thighs, while the other cups her right breast, kneading it gently before my mouth replaces my hand.

I take her nipple between my lips, my tongue swirling over the cool metal of her piercing before I bite down lightly, earning a sharp gasp from her lips.

And just like that, I know we’re nowhere near done.

Y/N’s head is thrown back, her chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. Her eyes remain closed as she slowly starts to circle her hips again, the movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through me. I grip both of her hips firmly, a low grunt escaping my throat as I try to steady myself.

"Babe," I rasp, my voice raw, strained, barely holding onto composure. She meets my gaze, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at the corner of my lips. "Go put on the purple set."

I whisper the words, deliberately slow, watching as her hazy expression sharpens into something more focused. A grin spreads across her lips, teasing, playful. And then—without hesitation—she hops off my cock, leaving me achingly empty, and disappears into the closet.

She’s back in record time.

The moment she steps out, I push myself up, finally ridding myself of my sweatpants, kicking them aside carelessly. My eyes darken at the sight of her—the delicate purple fabric hugging her curves, the way the lace clings to her skin in all the right places.

I don’t give her a second to react.

In one swift movement, I lift her off the floor, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist as my hands find their place on her hips. I bury my face into her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her.

With controlled ease, I kneel onto the bed, carefully lowering her onto the pillows. I make sure to flatten her dark hair, smoothing it out so it fans perfectly beneath her. My hands trail down her body, fingertips ghosting over her curves until they reach the hem of her lace panties.

I lick my lips.

"These," I murmur, voice thick with desire, "these have to go. I want nothing between us when I fuck you."

She exhales a shaky breath, her lips parting. "Fuck," she mutters, eyes burning into mine as she lifts her hips in silent permission.

I don’t waste time.

Sliding the lace down her thighs, I take my time, savouring every inch of newly exposed skin. I leave her top on—because fuck, she looks absolutely divine in it. My hands roam greedily, fingers trailing down until I brush against her centre.

A deep groan rumbles from my chest at the wetness that greets me—soaked, warm, ready. She arches her back at the contact, her nails digging into my shoulder as heavy breaths leave her lips.

My jaw clenches. "So fucking perfect."

I grasp my cock, aligning myself, and slowly run the tip along her folds, teasing, savouring the feeling. The moment it glides through her slickness, a shudder rolls down my spine.

We groan in unison.

I push in just the tip, savouring the tight heat for a moment. But my body betrays me—my hips snap forward, a desperate thrust that has me burying myself deeper than intended. My fingers dig into her waist, grounding myself, relishing the way she takes me.

"C'mon, baby," I whisper against her lips, voice coaxing, seductive. "You were so loud earlier. Can you do that again for me, Y/N?"

I struggle to keep my own moans at bay, fighting against the urge to let go completely. But I need to hear her—need to drown in the sound of her pleasure.

I smirk against her skin, lips brushing her ear as I murmur, "Let me hear you, love."

Y/N’s eyes snap to mine, dark and alight with something dangerously intoxicating. Without hesitation, she locks her arms around my neck and pulls me down, her lips parting as she releases the most beautiful moan. Fuck. I haven't even moved yet, but the sound alone sends a jolt straight through me, making my stomach clench with need.

A smirk tugs at my lips, but I don’t tease her for it. Instead, I pull out agonisingly slow before thrusting back in, deeper this time, and that’s when I get what I truly want—a raw, breathy moan tumbling past her lips, her head tilting back as her eyes flutter shut in sheer pleasure.

She hums, the sound laced with satisfaction, and a small, blissful smile spreads across her face before she whispers, "More. Fuck me harder."

A groan escapes me at her words, the pleading edge in her voice making my restraint snap. "Gladly," I rasp, my grip on her waist tightening as I pick up the pace.

And fuck—she gives me exactly what I crave.

Her moans grow louder, uninhibited, filling the air between us like the sweetest melody. I can’t stop staring at her—at the way her body arches, at the way she moves so perfectly beneath me, taking everything I give her without hesitation.

The intensity builds and builds until we’re both unravelling, pleasure crashing over us in waves. My breathing is heavy, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I collapse onto my elbows, grinning down at her in post-orgasmic bliss.

Y/N finally catches her breath, and the moment she does, her eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. She tugs me closer by the neck, our faces mere inches apart, her lips curling into an amused smirk.

"What’s got you grinning so hard?" she asks, voice playful yet curious.

I chuckle, pressing my forehead to hers as I murmur, "Nothing. I'm just happy that I won the game. And…I love you."

Her expression softens for a moment before she rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. "I would have won if you hadn’t wet your hair," she counters, her fingers idly tracing the nape of my neck before her voice drops to something gentler. "And I love you too."

She sighs, shaking her head with feigned defeat, and I still can’t stop grinning.

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