the one where you convince your boyfriend to try that stupid tiktok trend - eating sushi off his bicep - only for the sushi not to be the rawest thing caught on camera that night.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: established relationship au, porn with plot, smut, fluff (mdni!)
word count: 8,089
warnings/tags: 18+, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie!, multiple orgasms (like... three), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, recording/filming (the phone is basically a third character), food play (sushi on nipples, sushi on biceps, sushi everywhere), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), breast play (he fucks her tits and it's messy), clit stimulation (so much blowing on it, rubbing, tonguing), fingering, grinding and dry humping, squirting (she literally gushes everywhere), cum play (eating sushi mixed with cum, sucking her own fluids off him), hair pulling/fisting, lip biting, hickies/marking, second person pov, rich miami aesthetic, tiktok trends gone wrong (or right), that lip ring doing damage, "i fucking love you" ending, soft aftercare
a/n: I was in the process of writing chapter 3 for my jungkook series "purple tears I cry," and a certain sushi scene made me think of this that I just had to write a whole separate oneshot smut for it. this is genuinely nasty, please read at your own risk! hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of it... don't forget to reblog <3
The Miami humidity clings to your skin the moment you step out of the Uber, but the restaurant's AC hits like a wall of relief, crisp and expensive-smelling, all yuzu and polished wood and money. Nobu. Of course he chose Nobu. You catch your reflection in the dark glass doors, your teal dress catching the neon glow from the street, the silk clinging to the curve of your hips in a way that makes Jungkook's hand tighten at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who you belong to tonight.
Your hair is up, mostly, a messy twist that took you forty minutes to make look effortless, two strands curling against your collarbones like they have a mind of their own. Your skin glows, sun-kissed and dewy, and you feel his eyes on you, always on you, as the hostess leads you to the corner booth. You make sure to sway your hips a little more than necessary because you know he's watching, know his gaze is fixed on the way the silk shifts over your ass.
He's wearing a white button-up - one that should look innocent, corporate, boring, except he's left the first five buttons undone, and the fabric gapes open to reveal the hard plane of his chest, the ink that spills over his shoulder and disappears beneath the cotton. His lip ring catches the low light when he smiles at you, silver glinting against his mouth, and something low in your stomach tightens because you know exactly how that metal feels against your throat, your breastbone, the inside of your thigh. You know how it feels when he drags it down your stomach, when he looks up at you with those dark eyes while he tongues you open.
You slide into the booth and immediately pull out your phone, propping it against your water glass, angling it just so. The red recording light blinks to life. Jungkook raises an eyebrow but says nothing, just settles across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table, his foot hooking around your ankle to pull you closer.
"Documenting the experience?" he asks, his voice low, rough, the kind of voice that makes you think of hotel sheets and sweat and the way he sounds when he's inside you.
"Memories," you say, but your eyes drop to his mouth, to the silver ring there, and you know he sees it, knows exactly what you're thinking. You adjust the phone slightly, making sure the frame catches both of you, the candlelight, the way his shirt falls open when he leans back.
The server arrives with menus you don't need because you already know what you want, what you always want here. But Jungkook takes his time, asks questions about the omakase, the wine pairings, his voice smooth and deliberate while his shoe slides up your calf beneath the table, pushing the silk of your dress higher, higher, until it brushes the back of your knee and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound.
"Spicy tuna," you manage, your voice breathier than you intended, and Jungkook's eyes darken because he knows, he always knows what he's doing to you.
"Two orders," he says to the server, not looking away from you. "And sake. The good stuff."
The sake arrives in a ceramic flask, and he pours for you, his fingers brushing yours as you take the cup, and you make sure to let your tongue linger on the rim when you drink, watching his jaw tighten, watching his gaze drop to your mouth. You set the cup down and lean forward, the neckline of your dress gaping just enough, and you see his eyes flick down, see his throat work as he swallows.
"You're playing with me," he murmurs, and his shoe presses harder against your leg, insistent.
"Maybe you're playing with me," you counter, and you kick off your heel under the table, let your bare foot find his thigh, slide up, up, until you're pressing against the hard outline of him through his trousers, and he hisses, his hand gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Careful," he warns, but his hips shift, pressing into your touch, and you smile, sweet and dangerous.
"Or what?"
The spicy tuna arrives like art, ruby-red and glistening, arranged on black slate with edible flowers you won't eat. You take the first piece with your fingers because fuck the chopsticks, and Jungkook's gaze tracks the movement, watches your lips close around the fish, the rice, the wasabi that burns just enough. You moan, deliberately, because you know what it does to him, and his jaw tightens, that muscle jumping beneath the skin, his hand disappearing beneath the table where you know he's adjusting himself.
"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked already, ruined, and you haven't even started.
"So good," you say, and you take another, and another, each time making sure to lick your fingers after, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on his. You can see the flush spreading up his neck, can see the way his chest rises and falls faster than it should, the open shirt showing too much skin, the tattoo peeking out, and you want to trace it with your tongue, want to mess up his hair and ruin his composure right here in this restaurant full of people who think they're being subtle about watching you.
You lean back, your foot still working him beneath the table, and you reach for your phone, checking the angle, making sure it's still recording. You tilt it slightly to catch more of him, the candlelight catching the silver in his lip, the way his eyes look black with want.
"Say hi to the camera," you tease, and he does, his voice rough, his smile sharp and predatory.
"Hi, camera," he says, and then, lower, just for you, "Can't wait to see what you do with this footage later."
You take another piece of tuna and hold it out across the table, an offering, a test. He leans forward, never breaking eye contact, and takes it from your fingers with his teeth, his tongue brushing your fingertips, hot and wet, and you feel it everywhere, feel it between your legs where you're already aching, already soaked through your underwear.
"Jungkook," you breathe, and he catches your wrist, holds it, sucks your fingers into his mouth one by one, cleaning them, his tongue swirling around each digit while the restaurant noise fades to nothing and there's only him, only this, only the wet heat of his mouth and the promise of what comes after.
"You're killing me," he murmurs against your palm, his lips brushing the sensitive skin at your wrist, and you shiver, your foot still pressed against his hard length, feeling him throb even through the fabric.
"Good," you whisper. "Suffer."
You eat slowly, deliberately, drawing out every bite, every sip of sake, every moment of his foot tracing patterns on your calf, his knee pressing between your thighs under the table. You talk about nothing, everything, your voice light while your body screams for him, while you watch the sweat bead at his hairline, watch him shift in his seat, uncomfortable and hard and yours.
By the time you're full, stuffed, the silk of your dress feels tighter across your ribs, and you lean back with a groan, hand on your stomach, your foot finally retreating from his lap. He exhales, shaky, and adjusts himself again, not subtle, not caring who sees, and you love him like this, undone, desperate, ready to drag you out of here and fuck you in the Uber if he has to.
"I can't," you say, patting your stomach. "I'm gonna burst."
Jungkook smirks, that dangerous smirk that means trouble, that means you're in for it the second you get back to the hotel. "Shame. I like watching you eat."
"Pervert."
"Your pervert."
You flag down the server, ask for a takeout box, and Jungkook pays without looking at the check, just slides his card across the table like the amount doesn't matter, because it doesn't, not to him, not to either of you tonight. You pocket your phone, the recording still running, capturing everything, capturing the way he stands and offers you his hand, the way he pulls you against him in the elevator, his mouth at your ear.
"You're going to pay for that," he whispers, and you shiver, feel his hand slide down to grip your ass, squeezing hard.
"Promise?"
The hotel suite is all white and marble and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, dark now, just a black expanse beyond the glass. You kick off your heels, your feet sinking into carpet that probably costs more than your first car, and you collapse onto the sectional, pulling out your phone, scrolling through the footage while he pours himself a drink at the mini bar, his back to you, the white shirt pulling across his shoulders, the tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
TikTok. Endless, brainless TikTok to wind down.
A couple on a beach. A dance trend you don't care about. A recipe for something with feta cheese.
Then: a girl, pretty, blonde, sitting cross-legged on a bed in what looks like a generic hotel room. Her boyfriend beside her, shirtless, flexing his bicep. The girl grins at the camera, then at him, and unwraps a sushi roll, places it on the hard curve of his muscle, and leans down to take it with her teeth. The comments are screaming. The views are in the millions.
You stare at the screen.
You stare at the takeout box on the coffee table.
You stare at Jungkook, who's pouring himself a drink, his back to you, the white shirt still open, showing too much skin, the lip ring catching the light when he turns his head.
Enlightenment.
You set your phone down. Stand. Cross the room on bare feet, silent, predatory. He hears you, turns, glass halfway to his lips, and you pluck it from his hand, set it on the marble counter with a clink that sounds like a promise.
"Take your shirt off," you say.
His eyebrow arches, that lip ring catching the light again. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." You reach for the takeout box, open it, the spicy tuna still perfect, still glistening, and you can feel him watching you, confused and curious and already getting hard because he always gets hard when you use that tone, that minx tone, the one that means you're about to ruin him.
He sets the glass down. Undoes the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving yours. The shirt falls open, then off, and he's bare in front of you, all golden skin and ink and muscle that makes your mouth water. You step closer, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, and you press your palm to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it thud against your hand.
You set your phone down on the marble counter, angling it just so, the red recording light blinking like a heartbeat in the dim room. You want this captured, want the lens to swallow every moment of what comes next, want to watch it later and feel the heat crawl up your neck all over again. Jungkook's eyes flick to the device, understanding dawning dark and dangerous in his gaze, and when he looks back at you, something has shifted. The playful tension from the restaurant has evaporated, replaced by something heavier, hungrier, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.
You lean in, your hair falling forward, those two dark strands brushing his shoulder like silk curtains framing the moment. You don't go for the sushi yet. You press your mouth to his throat first, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make him groan deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your lips. His hand comes up to tangle in your updo, disheveling it further, fingers tightening in your hair until your scalp sings with the sting of it. You lick the salt from his skin, taste the cologne at his pulse point, the musk of him underneath, and you feel him shudder beneath your mouth, feel the sushi roll shift against your cheek as he breathes ragged and wrecked.
"You're insane," he murmurs, but his voice is already ruined, gravel and velvet, and you smile against his neck, teeth grazing his tendon, feeling his cock twitch against your hip through his trousers.
"Wait until you see what comes after the appetizer," you whisper, and finally, finally, you turn your head and take the sushi between your teeth, your eyes locked on his, watching him watch you, watching the way your lips close around the rice and fish, the way your throat works as you swallow, and the sound he makes is animal, guttural, something torn from deep in his chest that makes your thighs clench together with nothing but air between them.
He moves before you can even taste the wasabi. His hands find your waist and he's lifting you, setting you down on the cool marble counter like you weigh nothing, like you're something to be arranged, positioned, consumed. The stone bites against your bare thighs where your dress rides up, and you gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his mouth crashing against yours, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard into your flesh, cold and burning all at once. He tastes like sake and want and the promise of destruction, and you open for him, let him take, let him plunder your mouth with a desperation that makes your head spin.
"Look at you," he breathes against your jaw, his teeth dragging down your throat, sharp and claiming. "Look at you, playing with fire, recording this, thinking you're in control."
His hands find the thin straps of your teal dress, silk whispering against your skin like a secret. He doesn't rush. He takes his time, sliding the straps down your shoulders with agonizing slowness, his eyes tracking every inch of exposed flesh, his pupils blown wide and black with desire. The silk catches on your nipples for a heartbeat, clinging, teasing, and then it falls, smooth as water, pooling at your waist, and you're bare for him, your breasts heavy and full, nipples tight and aching in the cool hotel air, no barrier between his gaze and your skin.
He stares. The silence stretches, thick and electric, and you feel beautiful, powerful, laid out like a feast on this marble altar. His throat works, his hand coming up to cup you, weigh you, his thumb dragging across your nipple so slowly you whimper, arching into his touch.
"No bra," he observes, his voice rough, almost reverent. "You were planning this. Walking around that restaurant with nothing under this dress, teasing me, letting me wonder."
"I wanted you to wonder," you admit, your voice breathless, broken. "I wanted you to think about it all night."
"Evil," he murmurs, and then he's bending his head, his mouth closing over your nipple, hot and wet and devastating, and you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks, as his tongue circles and flicks and drives you mindless. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same worship, the same relentless attention, and you're squirming on the counter, your hips rolling, seeking friction, seeking him.
He pulls back with a wet sound that makes you blush even as you moan for more. His eyes are dark, predatory, the playful boyfriend from the restaurant gone, replaced by something that looks at you like you're prey, like you're his to ruin.
"Bed," he commands, his voice leaving no room for negotiation, no room for anything but obedience. "Now. On your back."
You slide off the counter, your legs shaky, the silk of your dress catching on your hips as you move. You cross to the bed, each step feeling like you're walking through honey, through heat, your body thrumming with anticipation. You climb onto the white sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin, and you lie back, your breasts falling to the sides, heavy and aching, your hair spilling across the pillows in waves.
He follows you, stalking across the room with a predator's grace, all bare chest and ink and the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. He stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over you, devouring you, and then he reaches for your phone still sitting on the counter, brings it with him, sets it on the nightstand angled perfectly to capture everything, the red light blinking like a third heartbeat in the room.
"Keep it recording," he says, not a request but a decree. "I want you to watch this later. I want you to see what you look like when you're being fucked properly."
He undoes his belt with slow, deliberate movements, the leather hissing as he pulls it free, the metal clinking as he drops it to the floor. His trousers follow, and his underwear, and then he's naked, glorious, his cock thick and heavy and curving up toward his stomach, the tip already wet with arousal, the veins along the shaft prominent and pulsing. You can't help but stare, can't help but lick your lips at the sight of him, at the thought of taking him inside you, anywhere, everywhere.
He climbs onto the bed, crawling up your body like a storm rolling in, all dark intent and coiled power. He doesn't touch you where you want him most, not yet. Instead, he straddles your chest, his knees settling on either side of your ribs, his hands bracing on the headboard above you, caging you in, trapping you beneath him. You can smell him, musk and sweat and something uniquely Jungkook, can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the weight of him hovering above you.
"Look at you," he breathes, his hand coming down to grip himself, to stroke once, twice, the sight obscene and mesmerizing. "Look at these perfect tits. Do you know how many times I've thought about this? About fucking them? About painting you with my cum?"
You whimper, arching up, and he takes that as invitation, as permission. He leans forward, guiding himself down, the hot, heavy weight of his cock settling into the valley between your breasts, skin against skin, velvet over steel. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, the column of his throat working as he begins to move.
He starts slow, rocking his hips, sliding himself through your cleavage, the friction making him hiss, making his abs tighten and flex with each thrust. You press your breasts together, creating a tighter channel for him, and he groans your name like a prayer, like a curse, his pace quickening, his hips snapping faster, harder. The head of his cock peeks out from between your breasts with each forward thrust, glistening and flushed, and you crane your neck, wanting to taste, wanting to lick the salt from his skin, but he pulls back just enough to deny you, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
"Greedy," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm, his control fraying at the edges. "So fucking greedy for it. You want this? Want me to cum all over you? Mark you?"
"Yes," you gasp, your own arousal spiraling tight and hot between your legs, the sight of him using you, losing himself in your body, driving you wild. "Yes, please, Jungkook, please-"
He breaks. His hips stutter, his hand gripping the headboard so tight his knuckles go white, and he comes with a shout that sounds torn from his soul, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, your throat, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way. He keeps thrusting through it, milking himself, his cock twitching against your skin, until he's spent, until he's trembling above you, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his inked shoulders.
The silence that follows is broken only by your ragged breathing, by the wet sounds of him still sliding against your cum-slicked skin. He looks down at you, at the mess he's made of you, and his eyes flash with something dark and satisfied, something possessive.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his hand coming down to smear the evidence of his pleasure across your breasts, your nipples, making you glisten with him. "So fucking beautiful."
He reaches over to the takeout box still sitting on the counter, forgotten until now, and retrieves another piece of spicy tuna, the fish still cool, still perfect. He brings it to your chest, and you watch, breathless, as he places it carefully on top of your nipple, the sushi resting there like an offering, like sacrilege.
He bends his head, his eyes locked on yours, and takes the sushi between his teeth, his tongue dragging across your nipple as he does, hot and wet and filthy, sucking the fish and your flesh together, the combination of sensations making you cry out, making your back arch off the bed. He chews slowly, savoring, his hand coming up to palm your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple, spreading his own release across your skin in obscene patterns.
When he swallows, he surges up, his mouth crashing against yours with a ferocity that steals your breath, his tongue thrusting deep, sharing the taste of tuna and salt and him, his teeth catching your lower lip, the metal of his piercing dragging against your sensitive flesh. He kisses you like he's starving, like he wants to consume you whole, like the camera isn't even there, like the world has narrowed down to just this, just you, just the wet heat of his mouth and the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.
"Mine," he growls against your lips, the word vibrating through your chest, through your bones. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging crescents into his inked skin. "I'm yours, Jungkook, I'm-"
He cuts you off with another kiss, deeper, harder, his hand sliding down your body, beneath the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist, finding where you're wet and aching and ready, and you know this is only the beginning, know that the night is long and the camera is still rolling and he's nowhere near finished with you.
He pulls back from the kiss with a wet, filthy sound that echoes in the quiet room, his eyes dark and glittering with intent. His hand is still between your legs, his fingers spreading your wetness in slow, teasing circles, and you arch into his touch, desperate, needy, your hips rolling to chase more friction.
"Give me the phone," he commands, his voice rough as gravel, as velvet, as something dangerous wrapped in silk.
You reach for it with trembling fingers, the device still warm from where it sat recording, and you hand it to him, your breath catching as he takes it, as he adjusts the angle, as he points the lens down at you like he's directing a film where you're the only star.
"Look at you," he murmurs, the camera capturing everything, capturing the flush spreading down your chest, the way your breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the sheen of sweat and his release still glistening on your skin. "Look at this fucking body. Do you see what I see? Do you see how perfect you are?"
He shifts back on his knees, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he hooks his fingers in the silk of your dress still pooled at your waist. He pulls slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fabric sliding down your hips, your thighs, leaving you completely bare, completely exposed to the lens, to his gaze, to the hungry darkness in his eyes.
"Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, your knees falling open, your thighs trembling as the cool hotel air hits your heated core. You feel exposed, vulnerable, the camera recording every inch of you, the way your pussy glistens with arousal, swollen and pink and aching for him. He zooms in, the lens close enough to capture the details, the way you pulse with need, the way your thighs are already shaking with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he breathes, the word almost reverent, almost profane. "Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me. So fucking ready."
He sets the phone down on the mattress, angled up at you both, the red light blinking steady and watchful. But then he's reaching for your hand, pulling you up, placing the device in your trembling grip.
"Hold it," he instructs, his voice dropping lower, filthier, his eyes locked on yours with a command that brooks no argument. "Record me. Don't you dare stop filming, understand? I want you to capture every second of this. I want you to watch later and see exactly what you do to me."
You nod, your throat too tight to speak, and you angle the camera down, your fingers shaking as you focus the lens on him, on where he's settling between your thighs like he belongs there, like he's coming home.
He looks up at you through his lashes, that silver lip ring catching the light, and he knows, he always knows what that piece of metal does to you. He runs his tongue over it slowly, deliberately, letting you watch the way it moves, the way it glints, and your breath hitches because you can feel it already, can imagine the cool metal against your overheated flesh.
"You like this?" he asks, his voice a purr, a promise, a threat. "You like watching me? Like knowing I'm about to wreck you with this mouth?"
"Yes," you whimper, the camera trembling in your grip as you hold it steady, as you capture every moment.
He starts at your knee, his mouth hovering, his breath hot against your skin. He blows, a gentle stream of air that makes you gasp, makes your leg jerk in his grip. He holds you steady, his fingers digging into your thigh, and he drags his lips up, up, not touching, just breathing, just letting you feel the ghost of him, the promise of him.
He reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip and he pauses, his eyes flicking up to the camera, to you, holding your gaze as he blows again, right there, right where you're throbbing, where you're aching, where you're dripping for him.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking, the camera shaking in your hand. "Please, Jungkook, please touch me-"
"Shh," he soothes, his breath washing over your clit, hot and cool and devastating. "I've got you. Be patient, pretty girl. Be good."
He blows again, directly on your clit this time, the sensation shocking, electric, making you cry out, your hips bucking off the mattress. He holds you down with one hand on your stomach, pinning you, controlling you, and he leans closer, closer, until you can feel his breath fluttering against your most sensitive flesh, until you're trembling, until you're sobbing with need.
"Look at the camera," he commands, his voice vibrating against your thigh. "Don't look at me. Look at the lens. Show them how pretty you are when you're desperate."
You force your eyes up, staring into the small black circle of the phone's camera, your vision blurred with tears, your mouth open, your chest heaving. You look wrecked, you know you do, you can see your reflection in the dark screen, can see the way your hair is tangled and wild, the way your lips are swollen and red, the way your body is flushed pink with arousal.
"Good girl," he praises, and then he finally, finally, touches you.
His tongue drags through your folds in one long, slow stroke, hot and wet and perfect, and you scream, the sound tearing from your throat, your hips bucking against his mouth. He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he does it again, and again, lapping at you like he's starving, like he wants to taste every drop of your arousal, like he could spend hours here, drowning in you.
He focuses on your clit, circling it with the flat of his tongue, then the tip, then flicking it, relentless, merciless, driving you higher and higher until you're panting, until you're chanting his name like a prayer, like a curse, until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.
"So fucking loud," he murmurs against you, the words muffled, filthy. "Let them hear you. Let the whole fucking hotel hear what I'm doing to you."
He pulls back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark and wild. "Keep recording. Don't you dare stop."
You nod frantically, your hand cramping around the phone, but you hold it steady, you keep the lens focused on him, on where he's watching you with predatory intensity.
He slides one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it to find that spot that makes your vision white out, and you moan, long and loud, unable to help yourself. He adds a second finger, stretching you, filling you, and he starts to pump them in and out, his wrist twisting, his knuckles dragging against your walls in a way that makes you see stars.
"More," you gasp, your head falling back, but he clicks his tongue, sharp and reprimanding.
"Eyes on the camera," he reminds you, his voice stern, commanding. "Look at me through the lens. Show me that pretty face."
You force your head up, your neck trembling with the effort, and you stare into the camera, your eyes wide and glassy, your mouth open as you pant. He adds a third finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you sob, your hips rolling to meet his thrusts, and he starts rubbing your clit with his other hand, circling it in tight, relentless patterns while his fingers work inside you, while he crooks them to hit that spot, that perfect spot, over and over and over.
"You're taking three fingers so well," he praises, his voice dripping with filth, with pride. "Look at you, stuffed full, dripping down my hand. You love this, don't you? Love being watched, love being used, love being my little porn star."
"Yes," you cry out, the camera shaking as your orgasm builds, coiling tight and hot in your belly. "Yes, yes, Jungkook, please, I'm gonna-"
"Not yet," he cuts you off, his fingers stilling, his hand pulling away from your clit, leaving you hovering on the edge, desperate and whining. "Not until I say. Keep holding that camera. Keep recording. I want to see your face when you cum all over my tongue."
He dives back in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you with wet heat while his thumb presses hard against your clit, rubbing in furious circles. The dual sensation is too much, overwhelming, devastating, and you're screaming now, loud and unrestrained, your voice raw as you chant his name, as you beg, as you plead for release.
"Jungkook, please, please, I can't, I need to-"
"Cum," he commands, the word vibrating against your core. "Cum for me now. Let me taste it. Let me drink you down."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, the metal of his lip ring pressing hard against the sensitive bud, and you break. Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, like a storm, like something violent and beautiful and earth-shattering. Your back arches off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head, your hand spasming around the phone as you cry out, loud and broken and his, completely his.
He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, until you're sobbing, until you're pushing at his shoulders because it's too much, too sensitive, too everything.
He finally pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, his chin dripping with your release, his eyes dark and satisfied and wild. He looks at the camera, looks directly into the lens where you're still recording, still capturing every filthy moment, and he licks his lips, slow and deliberate, savoring your taste.
"Delicious," he murmurs, the word dripping with innuendo, with promise. "My favorite meal."
He crawls up your body, his skin hot against yours, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that tastes like you, like him, like everything dirty and perfect and yours. The camera is still recording, still capturing, still blinking its red light in the dark room, and you know, you know this is a night you'll be watching back for years, a night that will never stop making you blush, making you ache, making you want.
"Good girl," he whispers against your lips, his hand tangling in your hair, his body heavy and warm above you. "You did so well. You held it the whole time."
He takes the phone from your trembling grip, checks the recording, a smug, satisfied smile playing at his lips. "Perfect angle. Look at you, pretty thing. Look how beautiful you are when you cum."
He shows you the screen, and you watch yourself, watch your face contort with pleasure, watch your body arch and shake, and you feel the heat crawl up your neck even as you feel yourself getting wet again, already wanting more, already wanting everything he has to give.
He pulls you up, his hands rough at your waist, flipping you until you're straddling him, your knees bracketing his hips, your hands braced on his inked chest. The sweat-slick slide of your skin against his is electric, devastating, and you can feel him hard and thick beneath you, pressing against your thigh, leaving wet trails of pre-cum against your skin.
"Come here," he growls, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling you down until your mouths crash together, teeth clicking, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate dance. He tastes like you, like sake, like the lingering spice of tuna and salt and sex, and you moan into his mouth, your hips rolling instinctively, grinding your soaked core against his rigid length.
"Fuck," he breathes against your lips, his hips bucking up to meet you, the friction making you both gasp. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good."
You reach for the takeout box still within arm's reach, your fingers trembling as you unwrap another piece of spicy tuna, the fish cool and glistening in the dim light. You break the kiss, sitting back on your heels, and his eyes track your movements, dark and questioning, until you lean forward and place the sushi directly on his nipple, the pink flesh peeking through the dark ink of his chest tattoo.
"Christ," he hisses, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat working as you bend down, your hair creating a curtain around you both.
You take the sushi between your teeth first, biting down, the flavor bursting across your tongue, but then you keep going, your mouth closing over his nipple, sucking hard, laving it with your tongue, the combination of cool fish and hot skin making him arch off the bed, his hand flying to your head, gripping tight.
"Oh fuck," he groans, long and low, the sound vibrating through his chest into your mouth. "Oh fuck, baby, fuck-"
You suck harder, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and he cries out, his hips jerking up, his cock sliding through your folds, bumping against your clit with each thrust of his hips. You release his nipple with a wet pop, looking up at him through your lashes, your lips swollen and glistening.
"You like that?" you purr, your voice dripping with filth, with power. "Like me eating off you? Like being my plate, my meal?"
"Yes," he pants, his eyes blown wide, his chest heaving. "Fuck yes, anything, everything-"
You start grinding in earnest, rolling your hips, sliding your soaked pussy along the length of his cock without letting him inside, teasing, torturing, your clit dragging against his rigid shaft with every movement. The friction is delicious, maddening, and you're both moaning, the sounds filling the room, raw and unfiltered.
"Oh fuck, baby," he chants, his hands gripping your waist, your hips, guiding your movements, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Oh fuck, just like that, just like that-"
You lean down, your breasts pressing against his chest, your mouth at his ear. "Feel how wet I am?" you whisper, your voice a dirty secret. "Feel how much I need you? I've been dripping for you all night, Jungkook. All fucking night."
"Shit," he groans, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm. "Shit, you're gonna make me cum like this, make me-"
He reaches for the phone, his hand trembling as he angles it up at you, capturing the way you move above him, the way your body undulates like a wave, like something primal and ancient and devastatingly beautiful.
"Look at this," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his eyes flicking between the screen and your face. "Look at you, grinding on me like a little slut, so desperate for it. You want this cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?"
"Yes," you whine, your movements becoming erratic, desperate. "Please, please, I need it, need you inside-"
He drops the phone to the mattress, the camera still recording, still capturing everything, and he grips your hips hard, lifting you, positioning you above him. You reach between your bodies, your hand wrapping around his thick length, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch, your head falling back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you, fills you, completes you.
"Fuck," you gasp, your hands braced on his chest, your nails digging crescents into his skin. "Oh fuck, Jungkook, you're so big, so-"
"Move," he commands, his voice guttural, his hands guiding your hips. "Ride me, baby. Show me how good you are."
You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls, hitting places that make your vision blur. He keeps one hand on your hip, guiding you, controlling the pace, while the other reaches for your breast, palming the heavy weight, his thumb dragging across your nipple.
"The sushi wasn't the rawest thing tonight," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours, dark and possessive. "This is. You and me, like this, nothing between us. Just raw, filthy fucking."
You moan, your movements speeding up, your hips snapping down harder, taking him deeper, until he's hitting your cervix with each thrust, the stretch bordering on pain but feeling so perfect you can't stop. He grabs the phone again, angling it up at you, capturing your face contorted with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each movement, the place where your bodies join, wet and obscene.
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice reverent and filthy all at once. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect girl."
He flips you suddenly, his strength shocking, his movements fluid and predatory. You're on your back before you can process the shift, him settling between your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, his hands bracing on either side of your head.
"Recording," he commands, pressing the phone into your trembling hand. "Don't stop. I want you to see this. Want you to watch later and see exactly how I fuck you."
You hold it up, the lens focused on where your bodies meet, and he pulls out slowly, agonizingly slowly, until just the tip remains inside you, glistening with your combined arousal. He hovers there, teasing, and you whimper, your hips bucking up, seeking more.
"Quiet," he orders, his voice sharp. "Be quiet and listen. Listen to how wet you are for me."
He thrusts back in, hard and deep, and the sound is obscene, wet and filthy, your arousal squelching around him, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. You bite your lip to keep from screaming, your hand shaking as you hold the camera steady, capturing the way he pulls out and thrusts back in, over and over, the rhythm building, the sounds growing louder, wetter, more desperate.
He pulls out completely, his cock slapping against your stomach, wet and heavy, and he drags the head through your folds, bumping against your clit, circling it, teasing it with short, sharp jabs that make you cry out despite your best efforts to stay quiet.
"Please," you beg, your voice breaking. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me, please-"
He lines himself up and thrusts back in, but this time he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, doesn't tease. He starts pounding into you, hard and fast and merciless, his hips snapping forward with a force that moves you up the bed, your head hitting the headboard with each thrust. He's fucking you like he hates you, like he loves you, like he wants to crawl inside your skin and never leave.
"Scream," he commands, his voice ragged, his hand wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, just reminding you who you belong to. "Let me hear you. Let the fucking city hear what I'm doing to you."
You scream. You can't help it, the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, building and coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm approaching like a freight train. He's recording your face, the camera capturing your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your temples into your hair.
"That's it," he pants, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. "That's it, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock, let me feel you-"
You break. Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and beautiful, your pussy clamping down on him, milking him, and he groans, long and loud, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick and endless. But as you come, as your body convulses around him, something else happens, something wet and shocking, and you're squirting, actually squirting, your release gushing out around his cock, mixing with his cum, creating a mess of fluids that soaks the sheets, his thighs, drips down your ass.
"Holy shit," he breathes, his eyes wide and wild, the camera still recording, capturing the obscene flood of liquid, the way it glistens on his skin, the way your body continues to shake and convulse. "Holy fucking shit, baby, look at you, look at this-"
He pulls out slowly, his cock still half-hard, dripping with your combined release, and he holds it up, angling the camera to capture the mess, the way his cum mixed with your arousal drips from his shaft, thick and white and obscene.
"Suck it," he commands, his voice rough, his hand tangling in your hair. "Suck your cum off my cock. Clean me up, kitten."
You scramble down, your body still trembling from aftershocks, and you take him into your mouth, tasting yourself, tasting him, the mixture salty and musky and filthy. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, and he groans, his hand tightening in your hair.
"Fuck, yes," he pants. "My balls, kitten, suck my balls."
You pull back, your hand wrapping around his shaft, and you duck down, taking one testicle into your mouth, then the other, rolling them on your tongue, sucking gently while your hand works his length. He pulls your hair, guiding you, his hips bucking slightly, and then you pull back, kitten licking him, small, teasing laps at the head of his cock, your eyes looking up at him through your lashes, innocent and filthy all at once.
"Perfect kitten," he breathes, his voice wrecked, his eyes dark with renewed desire. "My perfect little kitten. Look at you, so eager, so good for me."
He starts fucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head, his hips snapping forward, pushing his cock deep into your throat, and you relax, let him use you, let him take what he needs. He's relentless, his stamina shocking, and you can feel him swelling, feel him getting close again.
"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained. "Gonna cum again, baby, gonna-"
He thrusts deep and holds there, his cock pulsing, and he spills down your throat, hot and thick, more than you thought possible, more than should be human. You swallow, your throat working, your eyes watering, and when he finally pulls out, spent and trembling, you collapse back onto the pillows, laughing, the sound breathless and beautiful and disbelieving.
"I can't believe you had all that cum inside you," you marvel, your voice hoarse, your lips swollen and glistening. "That was... that was the third time?"
He collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and sweaty and marked by your nails, your teeth, your possession. He pulls you into his arms, his hand cradling your head against his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering, feel the rumble of his laughter.
"For you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your hair. "Only for you, pretty girl. You drain me completely. You ruin me."
The phone is still recording somewhere on the bed, still capturing the aftermath, the sweat-slick mess of your bodies, the way you curl into each other like survivors of some beautiful storm. But for now, you just breathe, just exist in this moment of shattered, perfect aftermath, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest, his hand stroking lazy circles on your back.
He doesn't ask. He just moves, shifting off the bed with a grace that seems impossible for someone who just spent himself three times over. You hear water running in the bathroom, the sound of a cloth being wrung out, and then he's back, kneeling between your thighs with a warm, wet towel in his hand.
He cleans you slowly, carefully, his touch reverent where it had been ruthless before. He wipes away the mess of your combined release, the sweat, the evidence of everything you did together, and his eyes follow the path of the cloth with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. He presses kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your stomach, each one soft and lingering, worshipping you in a different language than the one he used when he was inside you.
When he's finished, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls up your body, his weight settling over you again, but different now, protective, cocooning. He finds your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes like salt and love and exhaustion. He bites your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, pulling slightly until you whimper, and then he releases you with a laugh, low and warm and vibrating against your skin.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw like he's memorizing you, like he's trying to commit every inch to memory. "You're so fucking beautiful. Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me?"
You smile, your hand coming up to tangle in his hair, still damp with sweat. "Show me," you whisper back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, really look at you, his eyes dark and endless and full of something that makes your breath catch. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing over your swollen lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rough, stripped bare, nothing but truth.
"I fucking love you," he says. "I love you so much it scares me."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy and real and perfect, and you pull him down, kiss him deep and slow, pouring everything you can't say into the movement of your lips against his.
The camera is still recording somewhere, still blinking its red light in the dark, but neither of you reach for it. Some moments are just for you. Just for this. Just for the two of you, tangled in white sheets in a Miami hotel room, sweating and spent and in love, the rawest thing either of you have ever known.
Jungkook coming back from tour to your clit pierced ✮⋆˙ anon req!
Tags: explicit sexual content, pwnp, clit piercing, hes a yapper, lowkey nerd!koo, pussy eating, piercing play, fingering, overstimulation, p in v, 2 orgasms for her, i think that’s it.
Words count: 1.9k
Mdni 18+
“Missed you,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips between kisses. Kneeling on the floor as you sit on the couch. “God, you have no idea. Every night. Every single night.”
“I missed you more,” you purred , as his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. His teeth graze your skin, and a bolt of pure desire shoots straight down your spine, pooling low in your belly. The secret you’re keeping there seems to pulse in time with your quickening heartbeat.
His hands slide lower, gripping the hem of your top, and he starts to pull it up. You lift your arms willingly, letting him strip the top off you. The cool air of the room kisses your skin, raising goosebumps. His heated gaze travels over you, clad only on your chest, not wearing a bra. His eyes are dark, appreciative, worshipful.
“So beautiful,” he says, his voice rough. “My beautiful girl.”
He leans in to kiss the swell of your breast, lips making their way to your nipples, his tongue swirling around the hard buds, sucking them so softly, his hands going to the hem of your shorts. This is it. The moment coils tight in your stomach, a mix of nerves and fierce anticipation. You watch his face, holding your breath.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both the shorts and your underwear beneath, and in one smooth slow motion, he begins to pull them down your hips.
You lift your hips to help him, the fabric whispering over your skin. He draws them down your thighs, past your knees, his eyes following the path of his hands. Then he sees it.
His breath hitches, a sharp, audible intake that cuts through the quiet room. His hands, which were so confident and sure a second ago, go completely still, fingers curled into the fabric at your knees. His gaze is locked, utterly fixated, on the middle of your thighs.
There, nestled in the delicate, soft folds, is the surprise. A tiny, perfect, gleaming captive bead ring. The small silver hoop is elegant and delicate, the tiny bead—a smooth, polished sphere—sits snugly against your swollen flesh.
Jungkook’s jaw was on the floor, clearly shocked by the unexpected surprise, ”what!?” He said as a breathy laugh escaped him, “are you serious?” he blinked twice, staring in genuine surprise before looking back up at you.
“When did you get that?!” he asks, his voice rising with enthusiastic curiosity. He’s fully yapping now. “Oh my god. When? Why didn’t you tell me? Did it hurt? It looks like it hurt. Was it like a needle? It must have been a huge needle. Who did it? Was it clean? It looks clean. It’s so… shiny.”
He’s talking a mile a minute, his eyes darting over every detail. The tiny, perfect hoop. His hands slowly parting your folds carefully, The snug silver bead resting against your swollen flesh. The way it glints in the soft light from the floor lamp.
“It’s for you,” you finally manage to say, your voice trembling with a mix of arousal and amusement at his adorable, frantic reaction.
“For me?” He looks up, his eyes huge. “Like… a present?”
“A welcome home present, I got it three weeks ago.”
He processes this, his mouth forming a silent ‘O’. The concept seems to delight him even more. He looks back down, his head tilting the other way. “So it’s… mine? I mean, not mine mine, but like… for me to… appreciate?”
You can’t help the giggle that escapes. “Yes, Jungkook. For you to appreciate.”
“Wow,” he whispers, finally reaching out. But not like before. His touch is now feather-light, incredibly tentative. He uses the very tip of his index finger to gently, so gently, boop the little silver bead. It moves the tiniest bit.
You jerk, a sharp intake of breath hissing through your teeth. The sensation is immediate and intense.
He yanks his hand back as if shocked. “Did that hurt? Was that bad?”
“No,” you whine. “No, it’s… just really sensitive.”
His eyes light up with renewed, fascinated interest. “Sensitive?” He says the word like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard. “More than before? Because of the metal? Does the metal make it colder? Or is it your body temperature? Wait, let me feel.”
This time, he doesn’t boop it. He lays the pad of his finger gently against the side of the hoop. He holds it there, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It’s warm,” he announces, as if reporting a major finding. “It’s your temperature. That’s so cool.”
He’s completely lost in his exploration, his previous goal of immediate sex entirely derailed by this new, shiny discovery. “Can I…?” he trails off, looking up at you for permission, his eyes sparkling.
“Can you what?”
“Can I just… look at it for a second? From different angles?” You burst out laughing, the tension and anticipation melting into pure affection for this ridiculous, silly man. “Yes, you can look.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He shifts his position, moving to kneel deeper on the floor. He gently puts his hands on your inner thighs to keep you still, He leans in, his face dangerously close.
“The craftsmanship is really good,” he says, utterly serious. “The hoop is perfectly circular. The bead is seamless. It’s not too big, not too small.” He glances up. “Was there a size chart? Did you pick the bead? What other options were there?”
“Jungkook!” you laugh, swatting his shoulder. “Are you doing a product review right now?”
He grins, unrepentant. “I’m appreciating my gift! Thoroughly!” He goes back to looking. “It suits you. It’s pretty. Edgy, but pretty.” He finally leans back, sitting on his heels, and just stares at you, his gaze taking in the whole, breathtaking picture; you spread out before him, adorned with this secret he now knows. The smile on his face is one of awestruck, possessive joy.
Then, the researcher vanishes, and the starving, devoted boyfriend comes crashing back. The playful curiosity in his eyes ignites into a hot, dark flame of desire.
“Okay,” he says, his voice dropping back into that rough, wanting register. “Appreciation time is over.”
“Oh, is it?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Now it’s…” He crawls back over you, caging you with his arms. His face is inches from yours. “Now it’s testing time.”
Before you can reply, he drops his head between your legs. But he’s not just diving in. He’s methodical. He blows a soft, cool stream of air directly over the piercing. You twitch violently.
“Sensitive,” he repeats, a note of success in his voice.
Then his tongue on you. A pointed lick that goes right over the silver ring, from bottom to top.
The effect is catastrophic. The cool metal, the hot, wet muscle, the direct pressure—it all combines into a sensation so sharp and sweet you cry out, your hips bucking off the couch.
He moans, the sound vibrating through you. “Fuck,” he groans against you. “the feedback is insane.”
He does it again, this time circling the bead with the very tip of his tongue, exploring the new topography of your body with a focus that leaves you breathless. Every tiny flick, every swirl, is magnified, wired directly into your central nervous system.
“Koo… please…” you beg, legs shaking violently, already feeling the coil of an orgasm tightening, way too soon.
“Please what?” He asks, lifting his head just enough to talk. His lips are glistening, his eyes drunk with power and pleasure. “Are you already close? But im just getting started,” He dips his head back down, this time taking the bead gently between his lips and sucking.
You see white. Your hands fly to his hair, fisting in the dark strands. “Oh, god..Right there, Don’t stop,”
He doesn’t. He eats you out with a dedicated, obsessive curiosity that was equal parts lover and mad inventor. He tests everything. How you react when he flicks the ring rapidly. How you shudder when he tugs it softly with his teeth. How you sob when he combines a slow, flat lick over it with a finger slipping inside you.
You are babbling, a complete mess beneath him, completely at the mercy of his curious mouth and your own brave, stupid, wonderful decision.
“Koo.. please! Im gonna-“
He hummed with his lips wrapped around the silver bud, the vibration traveling through the metal and straight to your core. He adds a second finger, crooking them inside you, and doubles down on the suction.
You come with a shattered scream, your body arching so hard only his arms around your thighs keep you grounded. The orgasm is like electricity, arcing from the silver focal point through your entire being. He holds you through it, gentling his motions but not stopping, drinking every drop until you collapse, limp and trembling.
He crawls up your body, wiping his chin on his shoulder. He looks utterly, devastatingly pleased with himself. And so, so turned on. His jeans are painfully tight.
“I need to feel it with my dick,” He gets his jeans and boxers down just enough, holding his hard cock against your core, and started rubbing it between your folds.
You shake from the over sensitivity, lifting your hips away, trying to escape the delicious friction. But Jungkook doesn’t let you, he holds your hips firmly down with one hand, as he strokes his cock on your glistening pussy.
“Fuck, baby. This feels insane. I can feel it on my dick.”
He throws his head back, moaning loudly,
His hand stroking his cock now is pressing on the hard length, as he moves his hips in a sensual, rhythmic pace.
He looks down, watching the head of his cock nudge against the silver bead, wet from his tongue and mixed pre-cum. He meets your eyes, his own blazing.
“Best,” he grunts, pushing inside with one deep, relentless thrust that makes you both moan, “Gift.” Another thrust. “Ever.”
He sets a punishing, grateful pace. Each thrust of his hips grinds the piercing against his pubic bone, sending fresh sparks through your oversensitive flesh. Each withdrawal makes you whimper. He’s talking, a rough, broken commentary.
“Feel it… every time… god, who knew? Who knew it would be like this?”
You can only cling to him, nails scraping down his back, as he chases his own release. The combined sensations— his length sliding in and out your sensitive tight hole, one hand groping both your bouncing tits, the other roughly rubbing your clit and the silver bead— build you back up impossibly fast towards another peak.
“Cum with me,” he demands, his rhythm faltering. ”i can feel you close, baby. Come on, let go with me”
His words, his thrusts, the overwhelming rightness of him home and inside you, his steady thumb flicking your sensitive bud, it tips you over. Your second orgasm crashes into you, softer than the first but deeper, a warm, pooling wave of bliss that squeezes around him.
With a shout that’s part laugh, part sob, he follows you, pumping into you as he finds his own release, his body shuddering above yours.
He collapses, a dead weight of satisfied exhaustion, but rolls almost immediately to pull you against his side. You’re both a sticky, sweaty, happy mess on the couch.
His hand, as if magnetized, finds its way back between your thighs. He doesn’t stroke, just rests his fingers over the piercing, holding it gently. Making you flinch away.
“So,” he says after a few minutes of heavy breathing, his voice buzzing against your temple where his lips are pressed. “The aftercare. What’s that like? Salt water soaks? Specific soap? We need to get the right stuff. I’ll order it. Did they give you a pamphlet?”
You snort-laugh into his chest, the sound muffled. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m serious!” he insists, squeezing you. “It’s a high-value asset. Requires proper maintenance.” He’s quiet for another moment, then you feel his smile against your skin. “Thank you,” he whispers, all the playfulness gone, replaced by profound sincerity. “It’s the craziest, hottest, most ‘you’ thing ever. I love it.”
A/N: i ngl i had to search everything abt the clit piercing since I’ve no idea how it’s like so if there was any bs written, ignore it 😞
synopsis : Riki always tried his hardest to keep up the perfect boyfriend image in front of your parents and it worked. They were completely charmed by him and the respect he has for you. But behind closed doors? He was the complete opposite. All facades dropped.
ⳇ pairing ╸ dom!bf!ni-ki x fem!reader
warning : MDNI; smut, explicit sexual content, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingerfucking, deepthroating, edging, overstimulation, power exchange, profanity, and strong language.
To your parents, Riki was a saint. He was the polite, well-spoken, and attentive boyfriend who always opened the car door for you, brought flowers for your mother, and spoke with a respectful tone that had them convinced you’d found the most refined gentleman of the century. He wore pressed shirts, kept his posture perfect, and treated you with a tenderness in public that felt almost cinematic.
But as the front door of your family home clicked shut and the lock turned, the mask didn't just slip—it shattered.
The second you were alone in the hallway, Riki didn’t even give you time to take off your coat. He slammed you against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you, his hand gripping your waist so tightly it would leave marks. The polite, soft-spoken boy was gone; in his place was a predator who had been starving for hours of playing "perfect."
"God, I thought they’d never stop talking," he growled, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a rough, gravelly rasp. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a desperation that bordered on aggression. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit there and act like I didn't want to rip those clothes off you in front of your father?"
"Riki—" you gasped, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"Shut up," he commanded, his lips grazing your ear. "No more talking. Just be a good girl for me."
He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashed onto yours in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a claim. It was rough, hungry, and demanding, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with an intensity that left you dizzy. He tasted of mint and raw desire, his hands roaming your body with a possessive urgency.
He shifted his weight, hoisting your leg up around his waist, pinning you further against the wall. His hand slid down, bunching up your skirt and diving underneath your lace underwear. When his fingers found you, already damp and aching for him, he let out a low, guttural moan of satisfaction.
"Look at you," he whispered against your lips, his voice dripping with a dark sort of pride. "So worked up. Were you thinking about this the whole dinner? Thinking about how much you wanted your boyfriend to stop being a gentleman?"
He drove two fingers deep inside you without warning, causing you to cry out and arch your back. He didn't slow down; he worked you with a relentless, rhythmic precision, his thumb grinding against your clit with a pressure that pushed you dangerously close to the edge.
"Please... Riki, please," you whimpered, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, digging into the fabric of the shirt your parents loved so much.
"Please what, baby? Tell me exactly what you want," he teased, his pace increasing, edging you with a cruelty that was purely for his own pleasure. He could feel your walls pulsing around his fingers, your body trembling on the verge of a peak. Just as you were about to shatter, he abruptly pulled his fingers out.
The sudden void left you sobbing, your hips twitching in a desperate search for the friction.
"Not yet," he murmured, his eyes dark and blown out. He stepped back just enough to unzip his trousers, his gaze locking onto yours. "I want you to take care of me first. I've been playing the part of the 'perfect man' for three hours. I'm exhausted, gorgeous. Fix it."
He didn't have to tell you twice. You dropped to your knees on the hallway floor, the cold tile a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. You looked up at him—the sharp jawline, the predatory smirk—and realized that while the world saw a gentleman, you were the only one who got to see the freak.
You wrapped your lips around him, taking him in deep, wanting to feel every inch of him. Riki let out a sharp hiss, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding you with a firm, controlling grip. He wasn't gentle; he pushed himself deeper, forcing you to take him, testing your limits until you were gagging slightly.
"That's it... take it all," he groaned, his hips stuttering. "Good girl. Such a fucking good girl."
The praise sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you work even harder. He didn't let you go for long, however. The need to be inside you outweighed everything else. He hauled you up by your arms, dragging you toward the bedroom, not bothering to make it to the bed.
He stripped you bare in seconds, clothes discarded in a chaotic trail across the floor. He didn't use a condom—he never did when he was in this mood, wanting to feel every single vibration of your body against his. He flipped you over, pressing your chest against the dresser, and entered you from behind in one heavy, devastating thrust.
You screamed into the wood of the dresser, your fingers clawing at the surface. He was relentless, his movements rough and punishing, hitting your sweet spot with every singular drive. He gripped your hips, leaving bruising fingerprints on your pale skin, claiming you over and over again.
"You're mine," he grunted, his voice strained with effort, his breath hot against your back. "Every single inch of you. Not your parents', not the world's... just mine."
He pushed you further and further, overstimulating you until your vision blurred and your muscles locked. When he finally hit his limit, he groaned your name like a prayer and a curse, filling you completely as he collapsed against your back, his heart drumming a wild rhythm against your spine.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock. Then, Riki kissed the back of your shoulder, his voice returning to that soft, polite tone—though with a lingering edge of mischief.
"I think I'll bring dessert next Sunday," he whispered. "Your mother will love it."
ೃ⁀➷ a/n : hope you guys enjoyed this little Riki smut I wrote. I wrote this so that you guys had something while i worked on the space between texts. reqs are open for ideas for the space between texts.
hey bb could you do a fic where ni-ki and reader are dating and they get drunk and nasteyyyyy👅
Hey dolly! that’s hot affff!
-
-
The bass from the speakers lowered through the dorm walls long after the party died down. Empty soju bottles and scattered cans covered the living room floor. You and Niki were the only ones left, drunk, giggly, and wrapped up on the oversized couch. You were straddling his lap, your thick thighs squeezing his hips, your dark curls wild and falling around your shoulders from all the dancing earlier. The alcohol had you both flushed and bold with your glowing brown skin warm against his.
“Baby…” Niki’s voice came out low and raspy, that sharp teasing edge with hunger. His long fingers slipped under your cropped top, tracing slow circles along the curve of your lower back. “You’re so fucking warm… your skin feels so good.”
You laughed breathlessly, rolling your hips down on him. “You’re the one burning up, Riki. Look at you under me.”
His dark eyes were glassy, lips parted in that crooked, dangerous smirk. He looked wrecked already. He pulled you down by the neck, kissing you messy and deep, tongue sliding against yours with no control. The sweet strawberry soju mixed with his mint taste as his hands roamed. Your hips moved on their own, grinding against the hard bulge straining in his sweats. Niki groaned into your mouth, gripping your ass tighter, pulling you closer.
“Shit… keep doing that,” he muttered. “Wanna feel how wet that pretty pussy is for me.”
No shame left in either of you. You reached down, shoving his sweats and boxers just low enough to free his thick cock. He hissed when your soft hand wrapped around him, stroking slowly, thumb teasing the leaking tip.
“Fuck, baby—your hand looks so good on me,” he breathed, head dropping back.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as you worked him. You were bobbing your head, taking him deeper, your curls bouncing around your face as you worked him. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the room as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder.
Niki’s hips twitched, pushing up gently into your mouth. “Just like that… shit, look at you bobbing on my dick. Your pretty brown lips look so good stretched around me.”
You took him even deeper, relaxing your throat until your nose brushed his pelvis, holding there for a second before pulling back up with a gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock.
Drunk Niki was vocal as hell. “Fuuuck—your mouth is so warm… so nasty.”
You looked up at him through your lashes, eyes watery, mascara smudged, curls sticking to your damp forehead and cheeks. The sight made him curse louder. You pushed deeper again, gagging softly but not stopping, the vibration pulling another broken groan from him. Spit dripped down your chin onto your cleavage, making your skin shine under the lights.
He was throbbing on your tongue, hips starting to buck more desperately. “F-fuuuck, Baby—slow down or I’m gonna cum down your throat…”
When you popped off, your glossy lip combo, that perfect mix of brown liner and shiny gloss was completely smeared all over his dick. Thick streaks of it all over his pale shaft in messy rings and smudges, mixing with your spit and his precum, making his dick look filthy and claimed. A glossy string still connected your swollen lips to the head as you panted.
“Shit…” Niki groaned at the sight, his hand tightening in your curls. “Look what you did to me… your lip combo all over my dick. So fucking nasty, baby.”
You climbed back onto his lap, tugging your shorts and panties to the side. You climbed back onto his lap, tugging your shorts and panties to the side. Niki didn’t wait. He lined himself up and yanked you down onto his cock in one deep thrust. You both cursed.
“Fuuuck,” Niki groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You’re swallowing me whole… so warm and wet after that sloppy head.”
He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started fucking up into you hard and fast, the couch creaking under every thrust. But you took control, planting your feet and pushing him back against the cushions.
“Oh fuck—wait—Stay right there,” you slurred, drunk and bossy, staring straight into his glassy eyes. “I wanna ride you.”
You started bouncing on his cock, slow and deep at first, then faster, your thick thighs flexing with every rise and fall. Your dark curls bounced wildly around your face and shoulders. You kept your eyes locked on his the whole time with that intense, hazy, drunk eye contact that made everything feel even dirtier. “Shit, Riki… you feel so fucking deep like this,” you moaned loudly, not caring how loud you were. “Look at me while I ride this dick.”
Niki’s hands gripped your brown hips tight, guiding you but letting you set the pace. His eyes never left yours, dark and hazy with lust and soju. “Fuck, baby… keep looking at me like that. You’re so goddamn pretty riding me—those pretty brown eyes, that glowing skin… fuck, you’re creaming all over me already.”
“You feel so fucking good, baby—ahh! ahh! Right there!” you moaned loudly, never breaking eye contact. “Mmmph—fuck, I love riding this dick…”
The eye contact was electric.Both of you drunk, panting, moaning without shame as you rode him harder. Skin slapped loudly, your brown skin glistening with sweat against his. You rolled your hips in circles now, moaning shamelessly. “Yeah? You like when your baddie gets drunk and nasty on your cock? Tell me how good it feels.”
“So fucking good,” he groaned, his voice wrecked and loud. “Your pussy is gripping me so tight… so wet and warm. I love watching you like this. Look at your tits—fuck, keep going, baby. Don’t stop —”
You rolled your hips faster and harder, and dragged your tongue in a slow, wet stripe right up the side of his throat. You felt him twitch hard inside you.
“FUUUUCK—!” Niki moaned brokenly, his whole body shuddering. That drove him absolutely crazy as his hips bucked up wildly to meet your rolls, hands gripping your brown ass so tight it would probably bruise tomorrow. “Baby—do that again—fuck! fuck! —“
He was so gone, lost in the pleasure, biting on down on his lip. You licked another stripe up his throat, sucking lightly on his Adam’s apple. After that, you moved higher, sucking on his chin, leaving a wet mark before you crashed your mouth onto his plump lips.
You two became a whole sloppy mess. The kisses were filthy and open-mouthed, tongues sliding everywhere, exchanging saliva as you kept rolling your hips faster. Spit dripped down chins, mixing with sweat on your glowing brown skin and his.
Between the messy kisses you murmured the wildest shit right against his lips, your voice drunk and breathy.
“Mmm—yes, Riki… your dick’s so deep in my pussy—ahh! I wanna drain you tonight… nngh, fill me up again and again,” you whispered hotly, sucking on his bottom lip.
“Shit—baby—yes—ahhh!” he groaned into your mouth, tongue licking messily against yours, swapping more spit. “Your tight little pussy is creaming all over me—fuuuck, you’re such a nasty baddie—mmph—ride me harder!”
You sucked on his tongue, rolling your hips even faster, grinding your clit against him. “Ah! —Ah! — Ah! I love this drunk dick… mmm—gonna make you cum so many times tonight, Riki. Want you to fuck me stupid—hm! ahhh! L-Look at me…” his hazy yet glassy and desperate eyes never left yours, as he watched you work him.
“ fuck yes—you looks so good bouncing on me—mm! I’m yours, baby—use me—fuuuuck!” He was a wreck, moaning loudly into the sloppy kisses, hands gripping your ass as saliva trailed down both your chins.
“Riki—oh my god, I’m so close—ahhh! ahhh! Cum with me—mmph—fill this pussy up!” you panted, still rolling fast, lips never fully leaving his.
Your orgasm crashed over you. “Riki—fuuuuck! I’m cumming—ahhhhh!” your walls pulsing tight around him, moaning into his mouth as you kept kissing and grinding.
Niki lost it right after. “Baby—shit—I’m cumming—nngh! mmmph—take it!” He buried himself deep, hips stuttering as hot spurts filled you, leaking everywhere while you kept rolling slowly through the shocks, still swapping sloppy kisses.
You finally collapsed onto his chest, both of you a sweaty, spit-covered, cum-messy wreck. Your curls stuck to your skin as Niki panted, fingers lazily playing with them, still dazed. After a moment he chuckled breathlessly against your lips.
“Mmm… round two in my room?” he mumbled, already twitching inside you again. “I’m nowhere near done being nasty with you tonight, baby.”
tags// rough oral, black reader, sloppy eating, squirting
masterlist
Jake had you pinned on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders, your thick brown thighs squeezing the sides of his head like a vice. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe. he jsut wanted to suffocate in you.
“Oh my fucking god, Jake—” you moaned loud, hips rolling up into his face as his tongue dragged slow and filthy from your dripping hole all the way up to your swollen clit. “Right there, baby, shit—”
He groaned deep and desperate against your pussy, the sound vibrating straight through your core. “Fuck, this pussy… I’m addicted,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and wrecked already. “Taste so goddamn good. So wet for me, baby. Yeah keep making that pretty sound.”
Spit flew from his mouth as he shook harder, coating your swollen clit and dripping hole in a thick, messy coat.. “Oh my gosh—Jake!” you cried out, voice breaking as your hips jerked. “You’re so fucking nasty—shit!”
He pulled back just enough to look at the wreck he was making. Strings of spit and your cream connected his lips to your pussy. Then he spat right on your clit loudly and filthy, watching it slide down your folds before he dove back in, shaking his head even more aggressively.
“Mmmph—yeah, get it all messy for me,” he moaned loudly, voice muffled and vibrating against you. “I want this pussy sloppy as fuck. My spit, your cum—fuck, I love it like this.” His tongue flicked fast and messy over your clit before he sucked it hard between his lips, two thick fingers sliding deep inside you and curling instantly. You cried out, back arching clean off the bed.
“Jake! Fuck—yes, eat it just like that!” Your voice cracked as you gripped his messy black hair, grinding against his face. “Don’t stop, baby—oh shit, ple—you’re so good—”
Jake whimpered loudly into your folds, hips rutting helplessly against the mattress. “Mmmph—can’t stop. Never stopping. This pussy’s mine,” he slurred, drunk on you. He buried his face deeper, licking and sucking sloppily, spit and your juices running down his chin. “Louder, baby. Let me hear how much you love my mouth.”
You were shaking, moans turning into broken sobs as he fucked you with his tongue, thumb rubbing tight, nasty circles on your clit. “Jake—Jake! I’m gonna cum—fuck, I’m cumming—!”
He shook his face left to right, up and down, tongue fucking into you while his nose rubbed your clit. The lewd wet smacking sounds were louder than both of you. “Jake—Jake! Right there, baby—yes—- m’gonna cum!” you screamed, thighs trembling around his ears, fingers yanking his hair.
He whimpered desperately, hips grinding into the bed. “Cum on my tongue, baby. Soak my fucking face. Make it wetter.”
He shook his head faster, tongue flat and sloppy, spit flying everywhere as he ate you like a starving man, just loud, messy, and completely obsessed. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably, toes curling, fingers yanking his black hair so hard it hurt. Your orgasm hit hard. Your pussy clenched hard around his fingers, gushing slick and warm all over his tongue. A messy squirt splashed against his lips and chin, soaking his flushed cheeks as your hips jerked wildly.
Jake whimpered like he was in heaven, eyes rolling back as he drank every drop. “So fucking nasty and perfect. Look at you shaking for me… I love it. I love this pussy so much.”
hey queen, could you make a professor jake x black fem student y/n. EXTRA on the aave. during this beautiful black womens history moment i want unapologetically blackness 💗🙂↕️
Hi girly! omg sorry for the late reply, but yessss FUCKKKK PROF JAKE GOT ME WET…..HAPPY BLACK WOMEN HISTORY BADDIESSS (read undercut)
-
Professor Sim wrapped up his lecture on Black Women’s History Month, voice steady as he dropped gems about Audre Lorde, Fannie Lou Hamer, and the unapologetic power of Black femininity. “And don’t forget, that reflection paper on how these women shaped resistance is due tomorrow. Make it personal. Make it real.”
You hung back for a bit and clocked him instantly. That hungry pause. The way his hand gripped the eraser a little too tight. By the time the last student dipped out and the door clicked shut, you were smirking, locking the door with a soft snick.
“Professor Sim,” you drawled, voice dripping thick and unfiltered as you sauntered toward his desk, hips switching extra. “You was really out here teachin’, but now you starin’ at myl thighs like you ain’t ate in weeks. You good, sir? Or you need a closer lesson?”
He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing, adjusting his glasses. “Y/N… that’s not— we can’t—”
“Can’t what?” You hopped up on his desk right in front of him, skirt riding up high, exposing smooth brown skin and the edge of your lace panties. “Can’t look? ‘Cause you been lookin’. I saw you eye-fuckin’ me the whole semester. Especially today when I crossed my legs. It’s Black Women’s History Month, Professor. Time to stop playin’ and celebrate properly.”
You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him between your spread thighs. His hands landed on them immediately, gripping the soft thickness like he couldn’t help it.
“Fuck, Y/N… I shouldn’t… but goddamn, these thighs been killin’ me all semester. So thick… so fucking pretty.”
You laughed low. “Yeah, feel on ‘em. Dese thighs been distractin’ you, huh? Gon’ head… taste what you been cravin’.”
Jake dropped to his knees like a man possessed, pushing your skirt up to your waist. He buried his face in your pussy, groaning at how wet you already were, dark folds glistening. His tongue dragged slow and sloppy over your clit, sucking like he was trying to drink every drop of you.
“Shit… this pussy so fucking wet already,” he mumbled, voice vibrating against you as his tongue dragged slow and messy through your lips. “Taste so goddamn good… sweet pussy. Been dreaming about burying my face in this every class.”
You moaned, gripping his hair tight as he dove in deeper, sucking your clit like he was starving. His words kept coming, hot and filthy between licks.
“Fuuuuck, Professor— just like dat, baby!” You moaned loud, not caring who might hear in the empty hall, one hand gripping his hair while your hips rolled against his mouth. “Eat dis sweet black pussy. You love how she taste, don’tchu? All sweet and juicy. Mmm, yeah… put them fingers in too. Stretch me out while you teachin’ yo’self a lesson.”
He slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right while his tongue flicked fast.
“Mmmph— fuck, Y/N. This pretty dark pussy dripping for me. So thick and juicy… I love how she taste. Love how she smell. Goddamn, I could eat this shit all night.”
Your thighs clamped around his head, thick and powerful, smothering him in warmth as you came hard, juices coating his chin and dripping onto the desk.
He pushed two fingers inside you, curling them while his tongue flicked fast, still talking dirty right against your folds.
“You hear how wet you are? That sloppy sound? This Black girl pussy got me addicted already. So tight… so warm… shit, baby, ride my face —fuck…Use me.”
Your thighs clamped around his head, thick and powerful, smothering him as you rolled your hips. Jake kept moaning and talking, voice muffled but loud:
“Fuck yes, babe— smother me with these thighs,”
You came hard shaking your juices coating his face and dripping down his chin while he kept licking and groaning like he couldn’t get enough.
Before you could catch your breath, you pushed him back into his chair and climbed on top, sinking down onto his hard dick with a loud moan.
But Jake wasn’t quiet there either. As you started bouncing, ass clapping loud, he gripped your hips and growled against your neck:
“Ride that dick, baby. This tight Black pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet… so deep. God, I love fucking you, Ahh shit—“
Your glossy lips brushed his as you moaned low and breathy right against his mouth.
“Mmm…feel that, Professor? This pussy grippin’ you so tight… gon’ make you nut deep in me, ain’t you?”
Jake’s hands flew to your fat ass, squeezing both cheeks hard, fingers digging into the soft brown flesh.
“Fuck… Y/N,” he groaned, voice wrecked. His mouth fell open, hot shaky breaths puffing against your lips as his eyes rolled back a little. He was completely lost in it.
You whispered against his parted lips, voice dripping with that thick AAVE, “Yeah… squeeze it. This ass yours right now, baby. Smack it while you fillin’ me up.”
His grip tightened, then — SMACK! — his palm came down hard on your right cheek, making it jiggle. You moaned louder, clenching around him.
“C’mere, baby,” Jake growled, voice low and desperate.
He yanked you closer by the back of your neck and crashed his mouth into yours. The kiss was instantly sloppy and nasty. His tongue pushed deep into your mouth, tonguing you down like he was trying to taste every moan you let out.
He messed up your pretty glossy lip combo instantly smearing it all over both your lips while he sucked on your tongue and groaned into your mouth.
You were just as lost, whimpering and kissing him back just as nasty, your hips still grinding slow on his dick as he pumped the last of his nut deep inside your womb.
He pulled back just enough to breathe against your swollen lips, eyes heavy, voice hoarse:
“Goddamn… this fucking mouth. This pussy. You got me fucked up, Y/N.”
“Fuck… I’m cumming, Jake— oh shit, I’m finna cum on y-your dick!”
Jake’s eyes darkened, his hands gripping your thick ass tighter as he looked up at you, breathing ragged. “Yeah?” he growled against your lips, voice low and hungry. “You bout to cum on me, baby? Let me feel it.”
He suddenly sped up, thrusting up into you harder and faster from below, his hips snapping while his hands squeezed and spread your ass. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy taking him filled the empty classroom.
You cried out, coils bouncing, mouth falling open against his. “Yes— yes, fuck! Right there, prof-! Don’t stop— fuck, I’m cumming!”
Your walls clenched hard around his dick as you came, shaking and creaming all over him, juices dripping down his balls. The way your pussy pulsed and fluttered around him pushed Jake over the edge right with you.
“Fuck— me too, baby,” he groaned loud, mouth open against yours, hot breaths mixing. “Shit, I’m cumming deep in this pussy!! Take it all.”
He buried himself deep, pulsing hard as he filled you up, thick ropes of cum flooding your womb while you both trembled through it.
Your lips stayed pressed together, moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths the whole time, completely lost in the orgasm.
“Happy Women’s History, babe,” he murmured softly, voice still rough from moaning, a little smile tugging at his lips as he kept smoothing your edges with his thumb. “You really out here celebrating the right way.”
hi doll!! I lovedd the heesung x skinny reader. could u do a ni-ki version but maybe more fluff? could be smut too but id love if its like him comforting u about ur body and that he doesn’t care that ur flat yk.
thank u ❤️
Omg hi luv!! tysm ahhh! glad u liked it <3 it’s out now!
🍮 an insecure reader showing her lingerie to her bf niki (niki ver.) 🍫
pairings// blackfemreader x enha!niki
tags// p in v , insecure black fem reader, oral sex , making out
req// by anon
masterlist
The hotel door clicked open. Niki stepped in, froze, and stared. You stood there in the black lace lingerie your sister convinced you to buy—thin straps, sheer panels, tiny bow between your breasts. Your arms wrapped tightly around your skinny frame, cheeks burning.
“Hey, Ki..… I….wanted to surprise you,” you mumbled, eyes on the floor.
“Baby…” His voice came out husky, bag dropping forgotten to the floor. He stepped closer, tall frame towering gently over you, dark eyes drinking you in. “You wore this for me?”
“Yeah, but… I look stupid in it. Too flat, too skinny. I can change—“
He dropped his bag, crossing the room in two strides, large hands gently cupping your waist. “Shh. You look so fucking pretty, baby.”
He and cupped your face, thumbs brushing your heated cheeks. His dark eyes dragged slowly down your body, hungry and soft at the same time. Ni-ki cut you off with a soft laugh, warm hands settling on your waist, thumbs tracing the lace “Stupid? Fuck, no. You look insane.”
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “So pretty and delicate in this lace… my girl driving me crazy.” His fingers skimmed up your sides reverently, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t hide from me. Every inch of you is perfect.”
You shivered as he kissed down your neck, one hand sliding to cup your ass through the thin fabric while the other tilted your chin up. “Been thinking about you the whole tour,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Now I get to unwrap my beautiful girl in lace… all mine.”
His lips claimed yours in a deep, hungry kiss, hips pressing forward so you could feel how much he meant it. The insecurity melted under his touch as he whispered against your mouth, ““My beautiful girl… so delicate in this lace.”
His hand slid down, giving your ass a playful smack—light but cheeky. The sound made you gasp softly into the kiss, then shyly chuckle against his chest, hiding your face in his shirt as warmth flooded your cheeks.
Niki laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through him, and hugged you closer, kissing the top of your head.“See? That’s my favorite sound,” he murmured, tilting your chin up for another sweet kiss. “Don’t hide that pretty laugh… or this body I’m obsessed with.”He kissed you again, slower this time, hands gently exploring the lace while he kept whispering how perfect you felt against him.
Then he pulled back just enough, eyes dark and soft. “C’mere.”
Before you could reply, his hands slid under your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, arms looping around his neck. He held you close, your skinny frame pressed flush against his tall, solid body.
Niki carried you slowly toward the bed, kissing you the whole way—soft, lingering kisses that made your heart race. “Been waiting all tour for this, ma,” he murmured against your lips, voice husky. “Baby’s all mine tonight.”
He lowered you gently onto the mattress, hovering over you with that playful smirk, hands still supporting your thighs. “Now let me take care of you properly.” His fingers hooked under the straps of the black lace, slowly peeling the lingerie off until you were completely naked beneath him. The cool air hitting your skinny frame and you started to cover up, but he caught your wrists gently. “Fuck…” he cursed lowly, eyes darkening as they roamed your bare body. “Look at you… so pretty and perfect..
His large hands slid up to grope your small tits, thumbs brushing your nipples. He leaned down, tongue swirling around one sensitive peak, then the other—slow, wet, and teasing. He groaned against your skin, sucking lightly while his fingers kneaded gently.
“So small and cute… drives me crazy,” he whispered, switching sides. His tongue flicked over your nipple before pulling it back into his mouth. He lifted his head slightly, tilting it as he looked up at you with dark, playful eyes. “All mine, yeah?” he murmured, voice husky and sweet, giving your tit one more slow lick.
You nodded breathlessly, and he smiled against your skin, continuing to worship your chest with lazy licks and soft, possessive kisses. Whilehe did, he looked up at you through his lashes, grunting softly against your skin with each wet lick and flick.
You whimpered softly, “Oh fuck…” as your back arched slightly into his warm mouth. Your fingers tugged gently at his dark golden locks, pulling him closer.
He groaned at the little tug, the sound vibrating against your chest. He pulled back just enough, lips brushing your skin, voice low and sweet. “Feeling good, baby?”
“Fuck, Riki… yes,” you breathed out, the words shaky and needy.
A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. He pressed one last kiss to your chest before slowly moving down your body, kissing a warm trail along your sternum and stomach. His large hands slid down your skinny sides, gently spreading your thighs as he settled between them. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, voice husky with want. “Good girl… let me take care of the rest of you.”
He leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, slow stroke from your entrance up to your clit. A wet, lewd slurping sound filled the room as he did it again, mouth open and greedy.
You whimpered softly at first, then a shaky moan slipped out: “Ah— Riki…”
He groaned against you, the vibration making you twitch. Another long lick, followed by a loud, wet slurp as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth.
“Fuck— oh my god,” you gasped, hips jerking slightly. Your fingers tightened in his dark golden locks as he kept going—long, gentle strokes of his tongue mixed with messy, slurping sounds that echoed softly in the quiet hotel room.
“Mmm… tastes so good, baby,” he muttered between licks, mouth open and working you with wet, hungry noises.
You let out another broken moan, “Riki… shit—”, back arching off the bed as his tongue kept dragging over you in those slow, filthy strokes.
He looked up at you as his dark golden locks falling messily over his eyes, lips shiny and swollen. He gave one loud, wet slurp, eyes locked on yours, and pulled back just enough to murmur huskily, “Huh?”
The innocent little sound contrasted so filthily with the way his tongue immediately dove back in, licking another long stripe while he kept staring up at you, waiting for your broken answer.
You gasped, back arching. “f-fuck— oh my god, yes… feels so good—”
He smirked against you and went back to those slow, sloppy strokes, slurping loudly, messy golden strands still hanging over his dark eyes as he watched every reaction on your face. Niki pulled back from between your thighs, lips shiny and swollen. A few messy dark golden locks still hung over his eyes as he looked up at you with a lazy, satisfied smirk.
“Best pussy ever,” he said lowly, voice rough and deep with lust. He chuckled softly, tongue slowly swirling around his lips to catch every drop of your juices, savoring it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
You were still breathing hard, body trembling from his tongue, when he sat up on his knees and undid his pants. The sound of his zipper filled the room as he pushed them down along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. He leaned over you again, one hand bracing beside your head, the other lazily stroking himself as he gazed down at your naked, skinny frame with dark, hungry eyes.
You took him in eagerly, sucking softly as he slid deeper. The chrome heart necklace around his neck dangled and swayed with every shallow thrust, cool metal occasionally brushing your skin.
“Fuck… just like that,” he grunted lowly, voice rough. One hand rested lightly on the back of your head, the other braced on the headboard. “Such a good girl… sucking me so well.” He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, dark golden locks messy over his forehead, pushing in slow and careful, hips rolling gently. “Shit, baby… your mouth feels too good. My pretty girl taking me so deep… mmh— good girl.”
Low grunts and quiet curses spilled from his lips with every slow push, his chrome heart necklace swinging as he praised you softly between breaths.You looked up at him with glassy eyes, cheeks hollowed as you sucked him eagerly, tongue swirling around the head every time he pulled back.
“Fuck… look at you,” he groaned lowly, voice thick with pleasure. His dark golden locks fell messily over his eyes as he stared down. “So cute like this… my girl with her pretty lips wrapped around my dick. You look so fucking adorable choking on me.”
You whimpered softly around him, eyes watering as you took him deeper. He let out a shaky grunt, hips rolling slowly. “Shit— you’re gonna make me cum just like this, baby,” he rasped, one hand gently cradling the back of your head.
Niki cursed lowly, “Fuck—”, as he suddenly slipped his cock out of your mouth. It jumped and twitched against your lips, shiny and throbbing, clearly dangerously close to the edge. He was breathing hard, dark golden locks messy over his eyes, chrome heart necklace still dangling. “Can’t cum yet… not like that.”
Without another word, he shifted lower between your spread thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against your wet entrance, rubbing once before he slowly pushed inside you, stretching your tight pussy with a deep, shaky groan. “Shit… so wet and tight for me,” he grunted, sinking in deeper until he bottomed out. His hands gripped your skinny hips as he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust.
He looked down at you, eyes dark and hungry. “There we go… taking me so well, baby. My pretty girl.” Niki bottomed out inside you with a low groan, then started moving — slow, deep thrusts that made your skinny body rock gently on the bed.
You couldn’t hold back, moaning out broken words with every stroke. “Riki… ah— fuck, feels so good—”
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate as he leaned down closer, chest hovering over yours. His dark golden locks brushed your forehead while his chrome heart necklace dangled between you.
“Listen to you moaning like that,” he murmured sweetly against your lips, still thrusting steadily. “My cute, skinny baby… this tight little pussy feels so fucking good on my cock. So warm and wet, gripping me just right.”
He kissed you deeply, grunting softly into your mouth as his hips kept rolling. The kiss was messy and heated, his low sounds vibrating against your tongue. When he finally pulled back, lips barely an inch from yours, he was breathing hard. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby… keep squeezing me like that and I won’t last.”
You felt the pressure building fast, your legs tightening around his waist. “Riki… I’m cumming—” you whimpered against his lips, voice shaky and desperate.
“Fuck— me too, baby,” he groaned, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead to yours.
You both came together, moaning loudly against each other’s lips. Your pussy clenched tight around him while he spilled deep inside you with a broken, husky moan, bodies trembling together. His dark golden locks brushed your skin as you both rode out the waves, lips still touching, breathing each other in.
He stayed buried inside you, kissing you softly through the aftershocks, whispering, “That’s my best fucking girl… so perfect.”
🍷skinny reader who insecure of her wearing a lingerie in front of him 🍫
pairings// skinny!blackfem!reader x enhypen!heeseung
tags// AMBW, rough sex, skinny reader, oral, p in v , kissing , dirty talk, spanking
a/n // i’m back dollyz! i’ve mustered up the courage to write this. this was requested by the lovely @roanns-posts <3
masterlist
The mirror reflected everything you hated tonight.
It’s Valentine’s Day, and you stood there in the more with red lace lingerie your friends had hyped you into buying. the delicate straps against your dark pretty skin, the bra barely cupping your small breasts, the panties sitting on your narrow hips and ass.
Too skinny. Too small. It looked nothing like the confident, sexy vision you’d imagined. You tugged at the lace, frowning. “This was dumb…”
Downstairs, the front door opened. Heeseung’s voice floated up, soft and familiar. “Baby? I’m home.”
You quickly threw on your silk robe and tied it tight, heart racing as his footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Um…hey, seung— I have a surprise for you,” you said the second he stepped into the bedroom, but your voice came out hesitant, eyes dropping to the floor.
“But… it’s stupid. Never mind.”
Heeseung paused, tilting his head, that gentle curiosity already in his eyes. He set his bag down and crossed the room, hands finding your waist. “A surprise on Valentine’s? Now I’m really curious.” His fingers brushed the robe’s belt. “Why are you hiding it? What’s wrong?”
You swallowed, cheeks burning. “I don’t know…just…My friends convinced me to get something, but It’ll ridiculous. It doesn’t sit right. it just feel… flat.”
Heeseung’s eyes softened, then darkened with heat. He tugged the robe open slowly, letting it slip off your shoulders so the red lace was fully on display. His gaze dragged over you something that’s slow, appreciative, and hungry.
“Flat?” he murmured, voice low. “Baby, you look so fucking pretty like this.” His hands traced the lace edges, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. “The red against your skin… the way it fits you… I love it. Every inch.”
A smirk tugged at his lips as he stepped closer, backing you toward the bed.
“Show me properly,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “Lay on the bed for me, pretty girl. Let me prove how much I love my surprise.”
Heeseung’s thumb tapped the shutter twice—quick, sharp clicks, capturing the red lace stretched between your thighs.
“Fuck, baby… look at you,” he breathed, eyes glued to the screen before locking back on yours. “So damn sexy. Red looks insane on your skin. My pretty little Valentine all laid out like this… I could stare at these pics forever.”
He set the phone aside on the bed, then leaned down and started kissing a slow and softly , trailing up your body, making you squirm. His fingers hooked into the waistband of the red panties. He tugged them down your legs with one smooth pull, the cool air hitting you and sending a visible shiver through your body.
Heeseung smirked at the reaction, spreading your thighs wider with his palms. “Easy, pretty girl…”
Then his mouth was on you. The first slow lick dragged from your entrance up to your clit, hot and wet, and your back arched hard off the bed.
“Seung—fuck!” The curse slipped out before you could stop it, your hands flying into his dark hair, fingers twisting tight.
He groaned against you, the vibration making your thighs shake. He didn’t tease anymore, he ate like he was starving, tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently between his lips, then dipping lower to push inside you. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as he worked you open.
He leaned in and spat directly onto your pussy—hot, messy, watching the saliva mix with your wetness and drip down. A shaky gasp left your lips at the filthy sight. He dove right back in, slurping loudly, tongue dragging through the wetness he’d just added. “Mmm—fuck, baby,” he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. “You taste so sweet. So fucking sweet on my tongue… like honey.”
He spat again, lower this time, then immediately sucked it all up with a wet, lewd sound, lips wrapping around your clit and flicking fast.
Your back arched clean off the bed, a broken moan ripping from your throat. “oh—shit—!”
Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips grinding against his mouth as he ate you like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. Heeseung hummed happily, two fingers sliding deep inside you while his tongue kept working you over, sloppy and relentless.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured between slurps, voice thick with lust. “Keep dripping for me… let me drink every drop of this sweet little pussy.”
Heeseung’s tongue was harsh, flicking and sucking your clit while his fingers curled deep inside you, making wet, filthy sounds every time he slurped.
You bit your lip hard, squirmeing desperately against his mouth, thighs twitching and trying to close around his head as the pleasure built too fast. Heeseung’s strong hands suddenly gripped your hips, pinning you firmly to the bed so you couldn’t move even an inch. He pulled his mouth away with a wet pop, lips shiny and glistening, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.
“Uh-uh, baby,” he murmured, voice husky and amused as he looked up at you from between your legs. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “No squirming away from me. You’re gonna stay right here and take it for me, yeah?”
He leaned back down, pressing a slow, teasing lick from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, then smirked against your skin. “Be a good girl and keep still for me… or I’ll have to hold you down even harder.”
Your breath hitched, fingers still tangled tight in his hair, heart racing as he dove back in. He started placing slow, open-mouthed kisses right on your pussy , soft, wet presses of his lips against your slick folds, then right over your swollen clit. Each kiss was teasing, his gaze never leaving your face. He kissed it like he was worshipping you.
Every time his lips pulled away for a second, a thin string of spit and your arousal connected his mouth to you, licking his lips slowly. “Mmm… so tasty, baby,” he groaned, voice thick and low. “Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.”
He sat back on his heels between your spread legs, breathing hard. Without breaking eye contact, he shoved his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his hard dick. It slapped heavily against his stomach, already leaking at the tip.
Heeseung spat into his palm, the sound loud and filthy, then wrapped his hand around his length. He started stroking himself slowly , long, and lazily pumps from base to tip — his breath coming out in low, shaky exhales. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes fluttering as he watched you laid out in nothing but the red lace bra, dark skin glowing under the dim light.
“Fuck… look what you do to me,” he murmured, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, spreading the mix of spit and precum. His strokes stayed slow and gentle, chest rising and falling as he was capturing in the sight of you. “So pretty and wet for me… can’t wait to bury myself inside this sweet pussy.”
Heeseung finally pushed your thighs wider, lining himself up. With one slow, steady thrust he buried his cock deep inside you, stretching you open inch by inch until his hips pressed flush against yours. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he bottomed out, eyes half-lidded and locked on your face.
“Ahh—“
“Fuck, baby… so tight and warm,” he breathed, voice husky. He stayed still for a moment, letting you feel every thick inch of him. “You feel that? Taking me so well… my pretty girl in her little red lace.”
You let out a shaky moan, hands gripping his shoulders. “Seung… you’re so deep—”
He started moving — slow, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. His forehead dropped to yours, breath mingling as he spoke right against your lips.
“Yeah? You like it slow like this?” He rocked his hips again, grinding deep.
Your back arched, nails digging into his skin as you gasped, “Feels so good… don’t stop… please—”
Heeseung smirked, still keeping that lazy, deep pace, one hand sliding up to cup your small breast through the red lace bra. “I won’t. Gonna fuck you nice and slow until you’re shaking, fuck—”
You whimpered, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
“That’s my good girl,” he groaned, thrusting a little harder but still controlled, lips brushing your ear.
hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he spoke in that low, raspy voice.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy, baby,” he groaned softly, lips grazing your skin.
You moaned, nails digging into his back as he hit that spot again. “Seung…”
He nipped at your earlobe, thrusting a little deeper. “Yeah? You sound so how sexy… driving me crazy. Keep squeezing me like that and you’re gonna make me cum way too fast, pretty girl.”
His hips stuttered for a second, a soft groan slipping out as he buried himself deeper.
“You’re gonna make me cum like this… shit—” He breathed it right into your ear, hot and desperate, his pace faltering just a little as pleasure built. “Gonna cum so hard for you… you feel too good. This tight little pussy squeezing me… driving me crazy.”
You moaned softly, nails digging into his back as he kept fucking you slow and deep, lips still pressed to your ear.
“Seung…” you whimpered.
Heeseung’s breath hitched, another shaky exhale warming your skin. “Yeah… just like that. Keep feeling so good for me and I’m gonna fill you up, pretty girl. You want that?”
You bit your lip hard and nodded, eyes glassy with pleasure. That was all it took. Heeseung groaned low, hips stuttering as he buried himself deeper. “Fuck—baby…” His voice broke into a shaky stammer. “You’re so—fuck—gonna make me—ahh—”
Your small tits bounced free from the red lace bra with every thrust, dark nipples hard and begging for attention. Heeseung’s eyes dropped to them, mouth falling open as his breathing turned harsh and desperate. He came hard first.
“Fuckkkkkkkk…” The long, broken moan ripped out of him as he slammed deep one last time, hips jerking while he spilled inside you, hot and thick. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he rode it out with shaky breaths.
“Yes…baby —” Your back arched hard, thighs squeezing his waist while you came, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew.
Heeseung stayed buried deep, breathing hard against your neck. Then he slowly lifted his head, eyes soft and hazy, and leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, voice still a little breathless, thumb gently stroking your cheek.
Hey dollz, I’m sorry for not being active here. I’m going through a hard time with this Heeseung situation and just need time to recover…I’ll write out reqs soon! DAMN I MISS MY DADA HE NEEDS TO COME BACK ‼️ FUCK YOU STANK ASS HOES AT BELIFT
synopsis// you’re a popular OF creator and Jay’s your down bad viewer who hooks up
tags// rough sex, p in v , anal/oral , recording sex, making out, drunk sex, jay places his fingers in readers mouth, dirty talk
masterlist
Jay had always kept his late-night habits private, needing something raw to unwind. One sleepless night in a US hotel room, scrolling Twitter, he found your teaser: glowing melanin skin, hypnotic curves in lace, confident voice teasing the camera. He clicked your OnlyFans link, and your first live stream broke him—you chatted playfully, stripped slow, rich laugh mixing with filthy whispers, hips owning the screen.
He came hard that night as you read his big tip and moaned “SmoooothOperatorrr—good boy.” Hooked ever since, he tuned into every live, custom, and tease, tipping generously to hear you call him out, edge him with slow descriptions, or push him over until he bit his fist to stay quiet, panting your name. You always made him lose it intensely—his secret addiction grew until the screen wasn’t enough; he craved your heat in person.
Jay’s phone buzzed with the notification—your new video drop. He tapped play in the dim light of his room, and his breath caught instantly. There you were, in a tiny cheer uniform that barely contained you: short pleated skirt flipped up, cropped top straining over your plump cleavage, tits bouncing wildly as you rode the thick, sticky dildo suctioned to the floor.
Your brown skin glistened under soft lights, hips rolling deep and slow at first, then faster, ass clapping with every drop.
You locked eyes with the camera, biting your lip hard, moaning sweet and filthy—“Mmm, you like watching me take it all, baby? Wish this was you stretching me…”—voice breathy, teasing, dripping honey as you leaned forward, cleavage spilling dangerously close to freedom, one hand cupping a breast while the other braced on your thigh for leverage.
Jay’s eyes widened, jaw slack, hand already moving south as your moans turned desperate, body trembling on the edge, that perfect bounce and glow owning every second of the screen. He was gone.
Jay’s hand was already wrapped tight around himself, stroking slow at first as he stared, mesmerized by every bounce of your tits in that tiny cheer top, the way your cleavage threatened to spill with each drop. Then you turned around—ass to the camera, skirt flipped high, thick cheeks clapping as you rode the dildo harder, deeper, glistening under the lights.
Your voice stayed sweet and filthy, breathy moans spilling out: “Mmm, look at this view, baby… you wanna grab these hips? Fuck me back just like this?” Jay’s eyes locked on the perfect arch of your back, the jiggle of your ass swallowing the toy over and over.
A low groan ripped from his throat, rough and desperate—“Fuck… shit, baby…”—curses tumbling as his pace quickened, hips jerking into his fist, completely lost in the rhythm you set, panting your stage name like he was praying for release.
Jay’s strokes had turned frantic, breath ragged as he watched you slow your bounce and slide off the dildo with a wet pop. You leaned back against the wall, one leg hooked high, skirt bunched around your waist, exposing everything—your slick, glistening entrance begging for more.
You grabbed the toy, pressed the tip to your dripping hole, and sank it in deep with a slow, deliberate thrust, moaning loud and sweet: “Fuck, baby… feel how wet I am for you? Stretching me so good…”
Your hips rolled forward, pumping yourself harder, faster—free hand gripping your thigh, tits heaving in that tiny top, cleavage spilling over the edge.
Lip caught between your teeth, eyes fluttering, rolling back slightly as your moans turned desperate, broken—“Mmm, right there… gonna come all over this cock thinking of you filling me up…”
Jay groaned low, curses spilling—“Shit… fuck, baby, you’re killing me…”—his fist flying, hips bucking off the bed, right on the razor’s edge, every filthy word and flutter of your lashes pushing him closer to exploding.
Your moans turned whiny and desperate as you pumped the dildo faster, hips stuttering against the wall, one leg trembling in the air. “Oh fuck, baby… I’m so close—gonna come all over this cock for you, imagining it’s yours stretching me wide…”
Your voice cracked into high, needy whimpers, body shaking hard, eyes squeezing shut as the wave hit. “Yes—yes, right there—coming, fuck, I’m coming!” You shattered with a loud, broken cry, thighs quivering, juices leaking down the toy and dripping onto the floor in shiny trails, your slick hole clenching visibly around it.
Jay’s low groans turned guttural—“Shit… baby, fuck—” his fist flying, hips bucking wildly off the bed as your orgasm pushed him over. He came hard, thick ropes spilling over his hand and stomach, abs clenching, a choked curse ripping from his throat while he stared, transfixed, at your shaking form.
You didn’t stop—still panting, you pulled the dripping toy free with a wet sound, brought it to your lips, and sucked it slow, tongue swirling around the tip, eyes half-lidded on the camera. “Mmm… taste how sweet I came for you, baby… next time I want the real thing filling me up, making me leak like this all over you…” Lip bitten, voice husky and teasing even through the aftershocks.
Jay collapsed back, chest heaving, completely wrecked—thinking you were hands-down the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen, already replaying the clip in his head, craving more.
Weeks later, that cheer uniform video still haunted Jay—replayed on loop in the dead of night, your moans, the way your body shook and leaked, the filthy-sweet way you sucked the toy clean afterward. It felt electric every time, but the high faded fast, leaving him hollow.
He wanted more than videos; he wanted your voice in real time, your laugh, your actual touch. You never replied to DMs—your profile made that clear, inbox flooded, always “busy creating”—but one sleepless 3 a.m., he opened the chat anyway.
Fingers hovered, deleting draft after draft (“Hey, love your vids” sounded lame; “You’re so fucking hot” felt creepy). Finally, he sent something real, hot but respectful:
“Hey… I’m the guy who tips big on your lives (Smoooothoperatorrr). That cheer vid wrecked me in the best way. Not just the heat—you seem genuinely fun and confident, and I’d love to hear more about you if you ever have a spare minute. No pressure, just… you’re different. Hope that’s not too forward.”
One random Tuesday night, mid-convo about nothing and everything, he typed it out before he could overthink:
“…We’ve been talking every day for a month now. Feels crazy good. What if we actually met up? Somewhere low-key, your city or mine, no expectations—just us, coffee or drinks or whatever. I wanna see that smile in person. Only if you’re down, though. No pressure, ever.”
He sent it, pulse racing, waiting for your dots to appear.
A week later, Jay sat alone in the dimly lit hotel bar lounge, nerves buzzing under his calm exterior—he’d never felt this kind of anticipation. Then you walked in: a sleek black mini dress hugging every curve, the fabric clinging to your full hips, round ass, and perfect tits like it was painted on. Heads turned, but your eyes scanned the room, stretching your neck until they landed on him.
Jay’s breath hitched—you looked even better in person, glowing, confident, that same teasing spark from your videos now real and magnetic. He stood quickly, raising a hand with a small, nervous smile. You spotted him, lips curving into a bright, genuine grin, and sauntered over, heels clicking softly.
“Hey, Smooth Operator,” you teased, voice low and warm as you reached him.
“Hey… damn,” he breathed, eyes tracing you appreciatively. “You look incredible. Better than any screen could show.”
You laughed, light and easy, the sound making his chest tighten. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”
The air between you crackled instantly—hot, electric, but softened by shared nerves and quick banter. He pulled out your chair like a gentleman, then flagged the bartender. “What are you drinking? My treat.”
You ordered something fruity and strong; he got the same to match. Soon, a plate of crispy chicken appetizers arrived, and you both picked at them, chatting effortlessly—teasing about his old voice notes, your chaotic inbox, random stories from your weeks apart.
You leaned in closer over the small table, cheeks warm from the second drink, a soft laugh bubbling up as you admitted, “Okay, real talk—this is a little embarrassing. Meeting a viewer? Feels kinda wild. Like, you’ve seen me naked on camera, and now we’re just… eating chicken wings?”
Jay’s eyes crinkled with that easy, genuine smile, his voice low and warm. “Nah, don’t be embarrassed. I’m the one who should be blushing—I’ve been the creep tipping big just to hear you say my fake name.” He shook his head, chuckling. “But seriously, you’re even cooler in person. Down-to-earth, funny as hell. Makes it feel… normal. Good normal.”
The alcohol hit you both—tension loosening, laughs coming easier, voices dropping huskier. You tilted your head, playful. “Alright then, since we’re being real… wildest thing you’ve ever jerked off to of mine?”
Jay’s thumb kept stroking lazy circles on your smooth thigh under the table, the alcohol making everything feel looser, hotter. He leaned in closer, voice dropping low and teasing, eyes locked on yours. “Alright, wild question time… body count? Be real with me, baby. No judgment.”
You smirked, taking a slow sip of your drink before setting it down, meeting his gaze straight on. “Honest? Two. Just two.”
Jay blinked, actually froze for a second—his hand stilled on your leg, brows shooting up. “Wait… two? Like, total? You’re fucking kidding.”
You laughed softly, shrugging one shoulder, the black mini dress shifting just enough to tease more cleavage. “Nope. Not kidding. I’m picky as hell. Quality over quantity, you know? Plus, most guys can’t keep up anyway.”
He exhaled a low, surprised laugh, shaking his head like he was processing. “Damn… that’s… unexpected. Hot as fuck, though. Makes me feel even luckier sitting here right now.” His thumb started moving again, slower, higher, pressing just a little firmer against your skin. “Shit, baby. You’ve got me shook in the best way.”
The banter flowed hotter now, drinks half-forgotten as Jay’s hand stayed firm on your thigh, thumb tracing slow, teasing patterns higher up your smooth brown skin. You leaned in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You keep touching me like that, I’m gonna forget we’re in public.”
Jay’s eyes darkened, lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about kissing that smart mouth of yours since you walked in wearing that dress.” He paused, thumb pressing just enough to make you shift. “You gonna let me?”
You bit your lip, heat rushing through you. “Try me.”
He didn’t hesitate—he kissed you right there at the bar. It was hungry—lips parting, tongues meeting in a wet, needy slide that had you both making low, involuntary sounds. You moaned softly into his mouth, fingers curling into his shirt; he groaned back, deep and rough, like he’d been starving for it.
When he finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard, foreheads touching, he let out a shaky laugh. “Fuck Y/n….”
You grinned, still dizzy, lips tingling. “You’re a damn good kisser, Jay. Thought you’d be all talk.”
He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes locked on yours. “Plenty more where that came from, baby. Just say the word.”
You hummed low, finger tracing slow circles on his forearm, leaning in so your lips brushed his ear. “Mmm… wanna get out of here?” Your voice was husky, eyes dark with want.
Jay’s smirk was instant, wicked.
Inside his apartment—door barely shut before he had you pinned against the wall, kiss turning messy and desperate. Tongues clashing, teeth grazing, hands everywhere. You knocked over a lamp in the scramble; it clattered to the floor ignored as Jay’s palms gripped your ass hard through the tight mini dress, squeezing, lifting you just enough to grind against him.
He broke the kiss with a rough groan, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking lightly at the pulse point before dipping lower to the deep valley between your plump breasts. His tongue flicked out, tasting skin as he nuzzled into your cleavage.
You moaned loud, head tipping back against the wall, fingers threading into his hair. Staring down at him through heavy lashes, voice breathy and wrecked, “Fuck, Jay… keep going right there, baby… you’re making me so wet already.”
Jay groaned low against your chest, the sound vibrating through your skin as he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom like he couldn’t wait another second. He laid you down on the soft sheets, hovering over you instantly, lips crashing everywhere—your mouth, jaw, collarbone—while his hands slowly rucked up the tight black mini dress, bunching it at your hips.
He kissed down your body, mouth trailing fire along your smooth brown thighs. Tongue dragging slow, deliberate paths up the sensitive inside, so close but not quite there yet.
You bit your lip hard, hips shifting softly, chasing the heat of his mouth as soft moans spilled out. “Fuck… Jay…”
He hooked his fingers into your panties, sliding them down your legs with a hungry look. When he spread you open and saw how soaked you already were—glistening, dripping for him—he let out a dark, amused chuckle. “Shit, baby… look at you. Already this wet just from my mouth on your thighs?” His voice was rough, teasing, eyes locked on yours as he leaned in closer, breath hot against your core. “Gonna taste every fucking drop.”
Jay groaned deep against your core the second his tongue met your slick folds—humming in pure satisfaction, eyes flicking up to watch your face twist in pleasure. He’d been dreaming of this exact moment for months, replaying every video, every moan, and now you were real, wet, and trembling under his mouth. He couldn’t hold back—lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently before his tongue flicked fast and relentless, slurping noisily at your dripping entrance like he was starving.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, hips rolling instinctively against his face, grinding into every swipe and swirl. “Fuck, Jay… oh my god, your tongue—right there, baby, don’t stop,” you gasped, voice breaking into high, needy moans. Your eyes rolled back, head tipping as waves of heat crashed through you, thighs shaking around his ears.
He loved it—loved the way you chased his mouth, the desperate grind, the way your pretty brown skin flushed darker under his grip on your hips. He hummed louder, vibrations buzzing straight to your clit, tongue plunging deeper, lapping up every drop like it was his favorite thing. “Taste so fucking good,” he mumbled against you, barely pulling back, voice rough and wrecked. “Been waiting to eat this pussy for so long—ride my face, baby, use me.”
You whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “Jay… shit, you’re gonna make me come so hard—keep going, just like that… fuck, yes!” Your hips bucked harder, moans turning whiny and broken as he devoured you, eyes never leaving yours, completely lost in making you fall apart.
He pulled back just enough to rasp, “Wait—fuck, hold on,” voice wrecked and thick. He reached blindly for his phone on the nightstand, thumbing it open one-handed while his other hand kept your thighs spread wide.
You propped higher on your elbows, eyes hazy but curious. “What’re you—?”
“Wanna record this,” he murmured, dark eyes flicking up to yours, hungry and asking. “Just for me. Wanna watch how pretty you look falling apart on my face whenever I want. You good with that, baby?”
Your breath hitched, a wicked little smile curving your lips despite the heat flooding your cheeks. “Mmm… yeah. Record it. Make sure you get every moan, every drip.”
He smirked, hit record, angled the phone low so the camera caught your glistening pussy, his tongue already diving back in—flicking, sucking, humming deep as he ate you like a man starved. The red light blinked steadily while you arched, hips rolling harder against his mouth, cursing softly. “Shit—fuck, don’t stop, gonna come all over your face for the camera…”
Jay groaned deep against your clit one last time, pulling back with a wet smack, lips glistening. “Fuck… your juice is so sweet, baby,” he panted, voice wrecked, eyes dark as he stared up at you trembling on the bed.
You reached for his phone still recording, smirking through hazy lust. “My turn.” You angled it down as he stood, shoving his pants off—his thick dick sprang free, hard and heavy, veins pulsing. You moaned loud behind the camera, “Oh my god… look at how big you are, fuck…”
He chuckled low, spitting into his palm and stroking himself once, slicking the head shiny. You handed the phone back up to him; he took it, framing your face perfectly as you dropped to your knees on the bed, leaning in.
You gave him the best head—lips wrapping tight around the tip, tongue swirling slow before sliding down deep, taking as much as you could. Eyes locked on the camera the whole time, humming and moaning around his length, vibrations buzzing straight through him. Saliva dripped down your chin, messy and perfect.
Jay’s free hand tangled in your hair, guiding gently but firm. “That’s it, baby… fuck, look at you—taking me so good. Such a pretty mouth… yeah, just like that. Suck it deeper, sweetheart—shit, you’re perfect. Gonna make me come down your throat if you keep looking up at me like that…” His praises spilled rough and breathless, hips rocking shallow as he praised every flick of your tongue, every moan you let vibrate around him.
You kept humming around his thick length, bobbing slow and deep, eyes locked right on the camera lens like you were performing just for it—moans vibrating straight through him. Jay was losing it fast—hips twitching, chest heaving hard, low curses spilling out. “Fuck… fuck, baby—”
He pulled out with a wet pop, dick jumping against his abs, slick and throbbing. He panted, staring down at you wrecked and smirking. “You’re fucking incredible, Y/N… shit, look at you.”
You licked your swollen lips, crawling back up the bed slow and seductive, ass swaying, legs spreading wide as you settled against the pillows. Eyes never leaving the camera, you dragged a finger down your slick folds, voice husky and filthy. “Come on, Jay… fuck me. Fill this pussy up—show me how deep you can go, baby.”
Jay groaned rough, dick twitching hard at your words, already crawling over you, phone still recording every second as he lined up, losing his damn mind all over again.
then pushed in slow but deep—stretching you open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a rough groan. Your mouth dropped instantly, a loud, broken moan spilling out as the camera caught every second: your pretty face twisting in pleasure, eyes fluttering, brown skin flushed and glowing under the low light, tits heaving in the bunched-up dress.
“Fuck… you’re so tight, baby,” Jay rasped, voice wrecked and low, one hand steady on the phone to keep the frame perfect—capturing the way your pussy swallowed him whole, the slow drag as he pulled back just to thrust in again harder. He made deep, guttural sounds with every roll of his hips, free hand gripping your thigh to spread you wider. “Shit… feel that? Taking me so fucking good… look at the camera, Y/N—let it see how pretty you moan when I fill you up.”
You whimpered, hips bucking up to meet him, moans turning high and needy. “Jay… oh god, so deep—fuck me harder, baby… don’t stop…” The lens stayed locked on your face, your bouncing tits, the wet slide of him disappearing inside you over and over, both of you lost in the heat and the filthy thrill of being recorded.
Jay thrust harder, one hand clamped tight on your waist to yank you back onto his cock with every snap of his hips, your tits bouncing wildly, nipples hard and begging. The camera’s flash glowed warm across your flushed brown skin, catching every jiggle, every arch of your back—he couldn’t look away, you looked so fucking hot and beautiful like this, completely wrecked for him.
“Shit, baby… look at these tits bouncing for me—fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous taking this dick,” he growled low and filthy, voice rough with need. “Pussy’s gripping me so tight, Y/N… like you were made to milk me dry. You feel that? Every inch stretching you open—gonna fuck you till you’re screaming my name on this video.”
You moaned high and desperate, head thrown back into the pillows, eyes still locked on the camera through heavy lashes. “ Ha—Ah!…fuck—ruin me, baby”
Jay slowed just long enough to grab the phone from his hand, propping it carefully on the nightstand so the camera captured everything: your glowing brown skin pressed against his lighter tone, the perfect contrast shining under the low light as he settled back between your thighs.
He gripped both your plump tits hard, squeezing as he leaned down, slamming back into you deep and relentless—pounding you into the mattress with rough, steady thrusts that made the bed creak. You were a complete moaning mess, louder than ever, body arching off the sheets.
“Fuck—y-yeah! Oh shit , yes—mfuck me!” you screamed, voice cracking, never feeling this full, this wrecked, this good—not even your toys came close. Your nails dug into the sheets, ripping at them as curses tumbled out. “Shit… so fucking deep—don’t stop, please!”
Jay groaned low against your ear, hips snapping faster. “That’s it, baby—take this dick like the good girl you are. Pussy’s so wet and tight for me… look how pretty we look on camera, skin on skin, you screaming my name.”
He pulled you up into a sloppy, hungry kiss—tongues messy, teeth clashing, saliva stringing between your lips as he kept pounding without mercy, swallowing every desperate moan you let out.
Jay slowed his thrusts, breathing ragged, then pulled out with a low groan. “Turn over, baby—ass up for me.” You flipped onto your stomach quick, arching your back, ass high and presented. He grabbed the phone again, angling it to catch the perfect view as he slid back in deep, thick cock stretching you open once more.
You started bouncing back immediately, meeting every thrust, ass jiggling wildly with each clap. Jay was mesmerized—lost in the hypnotic ripple of your brown skin, the way your cheeks bounced and gripped him. “Fuck… look at this ass, Y/N—jiggling so pretty on my dick,” he growled, landing a sharp slap on one cheek, then the other, watching the flesh ripple. “Take it, baby—bounce that fat ass back on me like you mean it. Shit, you’re so fucking perfect.”
You moaned loud, turning your head slightly to glance back at the camera—eyes glassy, lips bitten raw, face wrecked and flushed. “Jay… fuck—yes, slap it harder, baby—own this pussy…”
After a few more filthy slaps and bounces, he set the phone back on the nightstand, framing the full shot. Then he gripped your waist hard, fingers digging into the soft, extra-plump skin spilling over his hands, and started pounding from the back—rough, relentless backshots that made the skin-to-skin clap louder than ever, wet and lewd.
His head threw back, low grunts and curses ripping out as he lost himself completely. “Goddamn… this pussy’s gripping me so tight—fuck, Y/N, you feel that? Taking every inch like a good girl… gonna ruin you back here.” His hips snapped harder, chasing the edge, both of you drowning in the raw, loud heat of it.
“Jay—fuck yes, baby, wreck me!” you cried, pushing back harder, desperate. “Your dick’s so deep—stretching me stupid, owning this pussy… harder, please—make it hurt so good, make me scream your name till I can’t anymore!”
the He growled low, thrusts turning punishing, head thrown back as he lost himself in your words. “Shit… keep talking like that, Y/N—fuck, your dirty mouth’s driving me insane. You love getting fucked raw like this, don’t you? My perfect little slut, begging for every inch… gonna breed this tight cunt till you’re dripping me for days.”
You whimpered, nails clawing the sheets. “Yes—breed me, Jay—fill me up, baby… make me leak your cum while the camera watches. I’m yours—fuck me till I break!”
He slapped your ass sharp, groaning rough. “Goddamn… that’s my girl. Keep begging—love hearing you lose it for me.” His hips snapped faster, both of you feral, vocal, chasing the edge together.
You bit your lip hard, eyes rolling back as the rough backshots pushed you closer to the edge, moans turning into broken whimpers. Jay leaned forward over your arched body, sliding two fingers into your mouth—soft, stretching your lips just enough to feel filthy and perfect, thumb brushing your tongue while his hips kept slamming forward with brutal force.
“Ahhh, Y/N… fuck, I’m gonna cum—gonna cum so hard, baby!” he groaned, voice cracking, thrusts stuttering.
He pulled out at the last second with a rough grunt, thick ropes spilling hot across your lower back, dripping down your skin as he stroked himself through it.
The sight and feel tipped you over—you shattered hard, crying out his name, pussy clenching on nothing as you soaked the sheets beneath you in a messy gush, thighs shaking, body collapsing forward into the bed.
You both collapsed in a sweaty, breathless heap, soft chuckles breaking the heavy air as the high faded. Jay rolled half off you, still catching his breath, then grinned down at you. “Come here, pretty girl,” he murmured, turning you gently onto your back.
He leaned in, pecking your lips sweet and slow, then deeper, tasting the aftermath. “You were fucking amazing for me… shit,” he breathed against your mouth, voice wrecked and soft.
You looked up at him, pretty eyes glassy and dazed, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?”
He nodded, thumb brushing your cheek. “Better than I could ever imagine. Way better.”
He reached over, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and tapped to end the recording with a small smile. “Thanks for this, baby. Seriously.”
You smirked lazily, still glowing. “Of course… anything for my favorite viewer.”
