Mine to Explore
Jennie Kim x Male reader
Word count: 12.4k
Tags: Submissive Jennie, Watersports, Pee Play, Tease and Denial, Bath Sex, Possessive, Fingering.
Notes: Back after far too long… and I’ve been keeping something very, very hot for you.
January 11, 2025 – 8:30 AM – Seoul
The remnants of breakfast lingered on the kitchen island—half-eaten plates of avocado toast and fresh fruit, the faint aroma of brewed coffee mingling with the citrus tang of Jennie's orange slices. We'd eaten in comfortable silence mostly, her foot hooked around my calf under the table, a subtle anchor after the intensity of her morning devotion. Kuma had begged for scraps at our feet, his paws tapping impatiently on the tile, but I'd shooed him off with a laugh, my hand never straying far from her thigh. The normalcy of it all grounded me, a brief respite from the storm of her schedule and my own restless mind. But the undercurrent hummed between us, that electric pull that always led us back to skin and sighs.
I cleared the plates with a quick rinse in the sink, the water rushing like white noise, while she scrolled through her phone, murmuring about the day's agenda—rehearsal notes from Allison, a quick check-in on the GDA outfits. "We should clean up," I said finally, drying my hands on a dish towel, my voice low and suggestive, eyes locking on hers until she set the phone down with a knowing smile. She nodded, slipping off the stool, her robe whispering against her legs as she led the way upstairs, hips swaying just enough to draw my gaze.
The master bathroom was our sanctuary, all sleek marble and diffused light from the skylight above, the air still carrying a hint of last night's steam. I twisted the faucet for the bathtub, the deep porcelain tub filling with a steady gush, steam rising in lazy curls. I added her favorite scent—jasmine and vanilla, a custom blend from that boutique in Gangnam she'd discovered during a rare free afternoon last year. The fragrance bloomed immediately, heady and enveloping, transforming the space into something intimate, almost sacred. I tested the water with my elbow—perfect, warm enough to melt away the chill of the morning air seeping through the windows.
Stripping off my boxers, I stepped in first, the water lapping at my calves, then thighs, as I sank down, the heat soaking into my muscles like a balm. My body relaxed against the curved back, legs stretching out, the surface rippling gently. "Come here," I called softly, watching the doorway, anticipation coiling low in my gut.
Jennie appeared, framed in the soft glow, her fingers at the tie of her satin robe. She undid it with deliberate slowness, the fabric parting like a secret revealed—first the dip of her collarbone, then the swell of her breasts, nipples already pebbling in the cooler air, down to the flat plane of her stomach and the dark thatch between her thighs. The robe pooled at her feet with a silken hush, and I cursed under my breath, "Fuck, Jennie," my voice rough, cock twitching back to life beneath the water. She grinned, that wicked curve of her lips that always undid me, stepping closer with unhurried grace.
She climbed in, the water sloshing as she settled between my legs, her back pressing flush against my chest, skin to skin in a way that felt like coming home. Her head fell back onto my shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her, her dark hair fanning out across my collarbone, dampening slightly from the steam. I wrapped my arms around her, lips brushing her temple in a tender kiss, my hands beginning their slow exploration—tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hips, thumbs circling lazy patterns on her abdomen. The water buoyed us, warm and weightless, her body yielding under my touch like she was made for it.
"Mmm," she purred, eyes fluttering shut, the sound vibrating through her back into me. My hands moved upward, cupping her breasts fully now, the weight of them heavy and perfect in my palms. I kneaded gently at first, fingers splaying wide, then focused on her nipples—hardened peaks that I rolled between forefinger and thumb, pinching just enough to elicit a sharp inhale from her. She arched slightly, a soft moan spilling out, "Ah... Nico," her voice breathy, laced with that vulnerability she only showed me.
Emboldened, my right hand trailed lower, skimming over her navel, dipping into the water to find her core. She was slick already—not just from the bath, but from her own arousal, her folds swollen and parting easily under my fingers. "Shit, baby," she cursed, hips bucking once, instinctively, as I circled her clit with a feather-light touch, the nub throbbing under my pad. Her legs widened without prompting, knees bending to hook over the tub's edge, water spilling over the rim in shallow waves, exposing her fully to the air and my gaze.
I chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling against her ear, my left hand still toying with her breast, keeping her on that edge. "So eager for me, aren't you? Spreading wide like a good little slut." The words came out possessive, laced with that dominance she craved, and she whimpered in response, her body trembling. I pressed harder on her clit, rubbing in tight circles, feeling it pulse, before sliding two fingers down and plunging them inside her—deep, unyielding, the wet squelch of her heat audible even over the lapping water.
"Fuck, baby!" she screamed, the sound raw and broken, her walls clenching around me immediately, hot and velvet-tight. I explored her slowly at first, curling my fingers to map her depths, the pads dragging along her inner walls until I found that spongy spot—the one that always made her unravel. I stroked it deliberately, pressing and rubbing, and her moans escalated, a cascade of "Oh god, yes... right there," her breath hitching with each pass.
Her right hand flailed for purchase, finding the edge of the tub, nails scraping the porcelain with a faint screech, while her left reached back, tugging at my nape, fingers digging in, scratching lightly down to my shoulder. The sting fueled me, a sharp contrast to the slick glide inside her. "Shit, Jennie," I growled hoarsely, my cock hardening fully against her lower back, trapped between us. "You're so fucking tight—gripping me like you never want me to leave."
The gentleness evaporated then, my thrusts turning rougher, fingers pumping faster, harder, the water churning around us with wet slaps, splashing against the sides. I was dominant by nature with her, especially like this—couldn't hold back the urge to claim, to degrade in that way that made her eyes glaze with need. "That's it, take my fingers like the needy whore you are," I murmured against her neck, nipping the skin there, my teeth grazing just hard enough to mark without bruising. "You love it when I fuck you rough, don't you? Begging for it without words, your pussy clenching like it's starving."
She did—god, she loved it, her body responding with fervent squeezes, moans turning to desperate groans, "Uhh, ugh, yes—harder!" Her hips rolled to meet my hand, the rhythm building, water overflowing now in rhythmic splashes, the tub creaking faintly under our movements. I added a third finger, stretching her, the quiet, slick sounds of her arousal lost in the water’s movement, her breaths uneven, chest rising against my arm.
"I'm—fuck, I'm cumming," she gasped suddenly, her head turning to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, sucking at the pulse point on my neck with a wet pop, teeth grazing in retaliation. Her walls fluttered wildly, tightening like a vice, and I felt the telltale quiver building to a peak.
But I pulled out abruptly, fingers withdrawing with a slick pop, denying her the release. She keened, a frustrated whine, "No—please, don't stop," her hand shooting down to grab my wrist, nails biting into my skin, trying to guide me back. Her eyes, when she twisted to look at me, were wild, pleading, that raw vulnerability cracking through her composure.
"Relax, Jen," I soothed, voice a low command as I kissed her neck, lips trailing fire along her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. My free hand caressed her thighs, soothing the tremble, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh. "Not yet. I decide when you come—remember that." The possession in my tone was unyielding, a reminder of the dynamic that bound us, her submission a gift she offered freely.
I shifted then, standing up in the tub, water cascading off my body in rivulets, my cock jutting out hard and insistent, foreskin pulled back from the earlier tease. She glanced back and up at me, confusion furrowing her brow, lips parted in question. "What's—?"
"I fucking want to pee," I said, smirking down at her, the words blunt and charged, reigniting that shared kink. Her eyes widened, then she laughed—a breathless, delighted sound that echoed off the tiles—before parting her lips, tongue extending flat and inviting, her gaze locked on mine with that mix of trust and thrill.
Gripping the base of my cock, I aimed carefully, the stream starting hot and steady against her waiting tongue. The relief washed over me, a deep moan rumbling from my chest—"Ahh, fuck, yes"—as I emptied my bladder, the warmth splashing into her mouth, some trickling down her chin to mix with the bathwater. She swallowed what she could, eyes never leaving mine, the act intimate and degrading in equal measure, her hand still on my thigh, squeezing in encouragement. "Good girl," I praised hoarsely, the last drops tapering off, shaking myself free before stepping back. "Swallow it all for me—you're mine, every filthy part."
She did, licking her lips with a shiver, the flush on her cheeks deepening. We rinsed off then, the showerhead hissing to life beside the tub, warm spray cascading over us as I soaped her body—possessive hands lingering on every curve, washing away the evidence but not the heat. Towels followed, soft and absorbent, as we dried in the steamy air, her skin glowing pink from the warmth.
9:15 AM – Seoul
We padded out of the bathroom, the heated floors warming our feet, into the adjoining dressing area—a spacious walk-in closet with mirrored vanities and soft lighting. Jennie moved to her vanity table, still nude, her body a tantalizing silhouette in the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. She picked up her phone, thumbing through messages, typing a quick reply to Allison no doubt, her posture relaxed but focused, ass curving invitingly as she leaned slightly.
I couldn't resist. Closing the distance silently, I pressed against her from behind, my hands sliding over her hips, up her sides, cupping her breasts briefly before dipping to caress her ass—firm, smooth, mine. She startled softly, a gasp escaping, but didn't pull away, her typing faltering. "Babe..."
I pushed gently, bending her forward over the vanity, the wood cool against her elbows as she braced herself, phone clattering forgotten to the surface. She glanced back at me, eyes wide with confusion but darkening with anticipation, her body instinctively arching, presenting. "What are you—?"
"Teasing you," I murmured, my cock—still hard, aching—nudging between her thighs, the head brushing her slick folds without entering. She moaned low, "Mmm, please, i like that," dropping the phone fully now, screen lighting up ignored as her hands gripped the table's edge. I rocked forward, sliding along her slit, coating myself in her wetness, the tip catching her clit with each pass, drawing out breathy whimpers.
"Look at you, bent over like this, dripping for my cock," I growled, one hand fisting her hair lightly, tilting her head back to expose her neck, the other guiding myself. "Begging without words again—such a desperate slut for me." The humiliation laced my words, possessive and raw, and she shuddered, pushing back, "Yes... Baby, fuck me."
I didn't make her wait longer. Aligning the head, I slid inside her slowly—inch by torturous inch, her heat enveloping me like a glove, walls fluttering in welcome. "Fuck, so tight," I groaned, bottoming out with a wet slap of skin, her ass flush against my hips. She cried out, "Ahh—yes!" the vanity creaking under her grip as I held still for a beat, savoring the stretch, the way she clenched around me.
Then I moved—deep, controlled thrusts at first, building that rhythm, the mirror reflecting us: her parted lips, my focused gaze, bodies joined in stark relief. "You feel so good, Jennie—taking me like you were made for it," I rasped, hand sliding to her hip for leverage, the other still in her hair, pulling just enough to arch her. Her moans filled the room, messy and breathless—"Harder... ugh, yes, fuck me deeper,"—mingling with the slick sounds of our joining, skin meeting skin with rhythmic smacks.
I obliged, pace quickening, dominant now in full—thrusting harder, faster, the vanity protesting with faint squeaks, bottles rattling on the surface. "That's it, scream for me," I demanded, leaning over her, lips at her ear. "Let me hear how much you love being my fucktoy—mine to use whenever I want." She did, cries escalating, "Fuc—oh god, you fuck me so good"' her body trembling, chasing that denied peak from earlier.
The emotional underlayer hit me then—amid the raw possession, the way she trusted me with this, with her vulnerabilities born from years of scrutiny. The hate that had scarred her; here, in these moments, I reclaimed her, body and soul. 'You're so pretty like this," I praised between thrusts, voice softening just a fraction, "falling apart for me—only me." Her response was a sob of pleasure, walls tightening anew, and I felt my own release building, but I held back, determined to break her first.
We moved together, the dressing area echoing with our symphony—groans, moans, the wet glide of me inside her, the creak of wood under strain. Sweat beaded on our skin, the air thick with jasmine and sex, time blurring as I drove her higher, whispering degradations that only fueled her fire: "Come on, slut, milk my cock—show me how bad you need it." She shattered then, a keening wail, 'I'm cumming—fuck, baby!" her body convulsing, pulsing around me in waves that pulled me under too.
I followed with a guttural "Jennie, baby—shit," spilling deep inside her, hips stuttering as aftershocks rippled through us both. We stayed locked like that, breaths syncing, my arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close, forehead to her shoulder. "Mine," I whispered, the word a vow amid the haze.
9:45 AM – Seoul
Eventually, we separated, her turning in my arms for a lazy kiss, bodies slick and sated. The phone buzzed insistently on the vanity—reality intruding—and she sighed, picking it up with a reluctant glance. "Allison's checking in." I nodded, stealing one more kiss, the morning's indulgences a secret armor against the day ahead. But as she typed, I lingered, hand on her lower back, already plotting the next stolen moment. In this house, in her world, she was safe—protected, possessed, utterly mine.