Sleeping With Taehyung Novels & Stories

The whole way to the hotel, Sienna's face stayed flushed as she clung to my arm and refused to let go. Once we reached the hotel, she fell asleep almost immediately. With no other choice, I helped her back to her room. After some effort, I finally got her settled in bed. Just as I turned to leave, she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind. "Owen, don't go." Half-asleep, she murmured softly, "This time, I won't let you leave again."

Pushing the blanket, he looked at his side and scanned the whole room for the lady he banged last night. His brows furrowed and his face turned into a frown as he couldn't see any sign of her. All he saw was the red blood stains on the sheet, a mark of what went down last night. However, he felt refreshed and rejuvenated from f**g a virgin last night. He sighs as he looks at his wrist watch. It was seven thirty. He had been a deep sleeper that he didn't notice when she left his side. "Fanculo! (F**k!)"

Besides the soreness of my muscles, there’s a sweat sweet smell around the room which is evidence of last night’s activities. I couldn’t remember how many times we do it but to make it short, I reached the limit of my strength then was knocked off during our love making. I cupped my cheeks then tucked my hair behind my ears before I turned my head towards the man who’s lying down beside me. Seungcheol is hugging the pillow while sleeping. His chest is against the bed sheet, and his head was tilted towards my side. The lower part of his body was covered with the same blanket that I am using, and the part that’s visible to my sight is majestic.

“You should still be sleeping.” “I was,” he murmured. “Then I realized the bed was cold.” He turned me around gently and kissed me, his hands cradling my face like I was something fragile. It was our honeymoon. The beach house. Just the two of us. We’d spent the past day and night wrapped up in each other—naked, tangled limbs, breathless laughter, and whispered promises. I’d married the love of my life. His green eyes glowed as they looked into mine, a little sleepy but so full of warmth.

Wearing a pout on her face, she rubbed her forehead and mumbled, “Tch! Annoying.” After that, Jiyeon closed her eyes. Because of how comfortable she felt, it took her about two to three minutes to fall asleep. She was already sleepy to begin with, and Taeyang’s presence beside her soothed her a lot. Feeling the steady breathing of the girl, Taeyang concluded that she had fallen asleep. Turning his head, he looked at the girl, and there was a faint smile on his face before he leaned down to place a soft, heart fluttering kiss on her forehead.

"I know you have no one. I know you're alone. I know you need me." "I need you as much as I need a bullet in the head." He laughed. Then lowered his head. His lips found mine. His mouth glued to mine. His teeth biting my lower lip. His arm squeezed my waist. His fingers dug into my skin. His tongue invaded my mouth without permission. The taste of whiskey and tobacco and desperation. I tried to stop him. But his strength was greater. My eyes open. My body rigid. Through the crack in the closet, I saw Arthur.

Chapter 15 Helena let out a final sigh, determined. She couldn't give up easily. This wasn't just about her or Kenzo, it was about their future. She needed to succeed. She grabbed her phone and waked out of the room. Just as she thought, Kenzo was deeply asleep by the time she got to his room. He wasn't good at drinking. She slowly got into bed with him after packing her hair up. She snuggled closer to him, his face practically breathing into hers.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his warm breath fanning against her parted lips as he thr*st up into her slowly. Bailey let out the most strangled m*an, as Kaleb filled her with his g*rth and l*ngth. This was bad. She wasn't supposed to be sl^eping with her best friend's brother, but here she was with his c^ck deep inside her, and his t^ngue inside her m^uth. * A few days before *

Clara's POV Taehyung's grip on my wrist was unyielding as he pulled me toward the bed, his movements lacking their usual predatory grace. The fever had sapped some of his strength; I could feel it in the slight tremor of his hand, the way his breath came in shallow, labored huffs. Yet even weakened, he was formidable—his broad frame towering over me, muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He released me abruptly, sinking onto the edge of the massive four-poster bed with a grunt, his good hand pressing against the fresh bandage on his arm. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, matting his dark hair, and his eyes—those stormy depths that could shift from rage to something almost human—were glaze