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@luvitera
looking for things to write about
jungkook or james
what kind of story would you want to see?
fluff, soft moments, or smut
send me anything that comes to mind 🤍
✉️ ask me !
A soft morning turns intense and ends in comfort: light slips through the blinds across warm skin and tangled sheets, as sleepy teasing over breakfast slowly shifts until the kitchen feels like a promise.
pairing: jeon jungkook x fem/reader
genre: morning after. domestic fluff. smut. possessive jk. established relationship
warnings: explicit sexual content. dom/sub dynamics. fingering. oral (male receiving). rough sex. choking (light). spanking. degradation (light). praise kink. creampie. aftercare.
word count: ~6k
note: thank you so much for liking my previous post! I hope you like this one as well ♡
──────────୨ৎ───────────
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the tangled sheets. The room still carried the faint scent of soap and something warmer, something shared.
Jungkook lay on his back, one arm draped over his forehead, breathing slow and deep. When his eyes finally opened, he squinted at the light before turning his head toward me. The moment he saw me, something in his expression shifted—sleep melting into quiet focus.
His hand slid under the covers, finding my hip, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles.
"Morning…" he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
His gaze lingered on my face, taking in every detail now visible in the soft daylight—the same details he had memorized in the dark.
"Sore?" he asked, low and knowing.
I hummed softly in response.
A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, satisfied. His thumb paused, then resumed its slow movement as he pushed himself up slightly, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face.
"Good," he murmured. "Means I did my job right."
I gave a small, sleepy sound, and his lips curved into a soft smile.
"Cute," he added, leaning closer until his face hovered just above mine. "You always get like this… quiet, all soft." His thumb traced along my jaw. "Makes me want to keep you here all day."
Another content hum left me.
He sighed, settling back but keeping his hand on me. "I'll make something to eat. Stay right here."
I nodded faintly.
He smiled, warm and lazy, squeezing my hip before leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. Then he sat up, stretching, muscles shifting under his skin before he glanced back at me.
"You're getting eggs," he said.
I frowned slightly. "I don't want eggs."
He paused, then laughed under his breath, turning back toward me with a raised brow.
"No eggs?" he repeated, leaning forward again, elbows on his knees. "Then what do you want?"
"Something more… tasty."
The smirk that spread across his lips turned slower, darker.
"More tasty, huh?" His fingers brushed lightly over the sheets near me. "I can manage that… but you'll have to tell me—how hungry are you?"
"A lot."
Something in his gaze sharpened. He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"Then come here."
I blinked. "Wait—I meant real food."
He laughed, the tension breaking instantly as he ran a hand through his messy hair.
"Right. Real food," he said, shaking his head. "My brain's still in bed with you."
"Perv."
"Guilty," he shot back easily, grinning as he stood.
I crossed my arms slightly. "I want waffles."
He stopped at the door, sighing dramatically before glancing back with a teasing smile.
"Waffles? Now you're just demanding."
"If I am, then don't."
A low chuckle escaped him as he leaned against the frame.
"So demanding… and then not?" he teased. "You're confusing me this morning."
"Just do whatever you want."
His eyes lit up instantly.
"Careful," he said, stepping back toward me, voice dropping again. "You know what happens when you give me that kind of permission."
I rolled my eyes.
He softened, laughing quietly before reaching for my hand.
"Come on," he said. "You're coming with me. I don't trust you not to fall asleep again and blame me."
I let him pull me up but instead of letting me fully steady myself, his grip tightened just slightly. There was a flicker in his eyes, something playful… and a little dangerous.
Before I could react, his hands slid to my waist.
"Jungkook—"
In one smooth motion, he lifted me.
A quiet gasp left me as my hands instinctively found his shoulders, and my legs wrapped around his waist. He let out a soft, amused breath, steadying me effortlessly, like he'd done it a hundred times before.
"Much better," he murmured, his voice lower now.
Our faces were suddenly close—too close to ignore the warmth between us.
He started walking down the hallway like that, completely unbothered, one arm secure around me while the other brushed lightly along my thigh, absent but deliberate.
"Now I know you won't run off," he added with a crooked smile.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You're impossible."
"Mm," he hummed, glancing up at me. "And yet, here you are."
Sunlight spilled across the floor as he carried me, his thumb lazily tracing patterns against my side. The whole thing felt unfairly easy for him—like holding me there, close, was the most natural thing in the world.
"Consider this," he added, voice dropping just a little, "premium service. Breakfast delivery included."
I rolled my eyes, but my grip on him tightened slightly.
He noticed.
His smile softened—less teasing now, more something warm… something that lingered.
And without putting me down, he carried me straight into the kitchen.
He set ms gently against the counter but didn’t move away.
Not really.
His hands lingered at my waist for a second longer than necessary.
Then he finally stepped back, grabbing a bowl.
“Waffle protocol,” he announced. “Might get a little experimental.”
I watched as he cracked an egg—slightly messy—then fished out a bit of shell with a sheepish smirk.
“Extra crunch,” he said. “Very professional.”
Flour dusted his fingers, a bit of egg still clinging to his skin. I glanced at his hands, and he noticed immediately.
“These?” he asked, lifting them slightly, amused. “Multi-purpose.”
He slowly brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean, eyes never leaving mine.
“Messy,” he added quietly.
The air shifted—warmer, heavier.
He dipped a finger into the batter again, swirling it lazily.
“For now… just pancake mix,” he murmured.
When i stepped closer, taking his hand and guiding his fingers to your lips, he froze.
A sharp inhale escaped him, his entire body going still as his gaze locked onto you.
“…That’s not part of the recipe,” he said, voice rough.
I didn’t pull away.
He exhaled slowly, tension flickering through him. “That’s… one way to clean up.”
When i finally let go, he flexed his fingers, still watching you like he’d forgotten everything else.
He stepped closer, caging you against the counter. His voice was low, rough—still morning-raw, but stripped of any leftover sleep.
"What do you want?"
I didn't answer right away. Just looked up at him through your lashes, let the silence stretch.
"What do you want?" I returned the question .
His jaw tightened. Something flickered behind his eyes—something darker than playfulness. He leaned in, one hand braced on the counter beside my hip, the other coming up to grip my chin. Not hard. Just enough to tilt my face toward his.
"I want you to stop playing with your food."
His thumb dragged across my lower lip, slow and deliberate.
"So I'm your food?" I murmured against his skin.
"If that's how you want to put it…" His voice dropped to a murmur, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. "Yeah."
"I don't know. You can show me what you have in mind."
The words left my lips before i could stop them. A dare. A test. She wasn't sure which.
His predatory grin didn't falter. If anything, it sharpened—curling at the edges like he'd been waiting for me to say exactly that. His eyes held mine, dark and unblinking.
The gentle touch behind my ear slid down. His thumb traced the line of my jaw with excruciating slowness, his skin still damp from the batter, leaving a faint, cool trail along my heated flesh. I shivered. He felt it. His gaze flickered with satisfaction.
"Show you?"
He leaned in, closing the last inch of space between us. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear—not quite a kiss, more like a threat wrapped in velvet. His breath was hot, uneven. His voice dropped to a thick, honeyed whisper, dripping with promise.
"I can do much better than that. I can let you taste exactly what I have in mind."
"Mmmm."
The sound was soft. Low. It vibrated against his thumb, still resting on her jaw. A murmur of surrender. Of approval.
That single sound seemed to travel straight through his skin, his muscle, his bones. It landed somewhere deep in his core and lit a fuse he hadn't even known was there.
His breath caught. The wolfish smile turned into something darker. More possessive.
He moved his hand, cupping my chin firmly. His fingers pressed into my skin—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to let me know i wasn't going anywhere.
"Good."
He breathed the word out like a promise. His eyes flickered down to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long.
"Because you're about to get the whole fucking menu."
With that single, soft sound of approval, something in him snapped. The low burn of the last few minutes flared white-hot. He was done talking.
He let go of my chin, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping firmly, and he pulled my mouth to his in a sudden, claiming kiss.
It was deep, the kind of kiss that swallowed my air and left you dizzy. His tongue swept against yours, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. His body pressed my back against the counter, the edge biting into my hips, and i couldn't tell if the heat pooling low in my stomach was from him or from the way his fingers flexed against my scalp.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes still closed, jaw still tight.
His voice came out wrecked. Low. Almost a growl.
"That's the only sound I want to hear."
My lips curved into a smile. You knew he could feel it.
"I thought you wanted more."
His eyes snapped open. Something feral flickered there, raw and unguarded. His grip in my hair tightened just enough to make your breath catch not painful, just… present. A reminder.
His mouth hovered over mine, lips barely brushing as he spoke.
"Oh, I do."
His other hand slid from the counter to my waist, fingers digging into the soft curve of your my, pulling me flush against him.
"I want everything."
And the way he said it—low, certain, like it was already his—made my knees weak and my cheeks burn all at once.
I slid my hand down, first to my nipples through my shirt to show him how hard they were, then down to my heat. The deliberate movement was pure visual provocation. His eyes tracked my hand's slow descent, the hitch in his breathing the only sign he was still alive and not carved from stone. When my palm finally pressed against the heat between my thighs, a ragged, animal sound tore from his throat.
He watched, utterly transfixed, for one more agonizing second before his control shattered. His hand snapped out, grabbing my wrist and pinning it to the counter beside us. He leaned in, his mouth a breath away from mine, his voice a guttural command. "Don't. You don't get to do that. Only I do."
"Really? Then why am I the one touching myself right now?"
The challenge in my words, the sheer defiance of my action, slammed into him. His jaw tightened, the feral heat in his eyes solidifying into something dangerously focused. My wrist was still pinned beneath his, but the implied control I'd just exerted was a spark thrown on dynamite.
He pressed my wrist harder into the cold countertop, his other hand coming up to grip my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze.
"Because I'm letting you. For about three more seconds. Then your hands stay right here." He released my jaw, trailing his fingertips down my throat, over my collarbone, stopping just above the fabric of my shirt. "I decide what you feel. Where you're touched. And right now..." His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, grazing the skin of my stomach. "I'm starting here."
He dropped to his knees on the kitchen tile, his mouth finding the soft skin of my stomach first in a series of open-mouthed, searing kisses. He moved upward slowly, worshipfully, his hands holding my hips steady as his lips traced a blazing path over my ribs, then higher, until his warm breath ghosted over the thin fabric covering my breasts.
He didn't look up, his focus entirely on the peaked flesh beneath my shirt. He closed his mouth over it, fabric and all, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue circling the stiff peak through the material. A low groan rumbled from his chest against my skin.
"Told you." He breathed the words against me, his voice muffled. "My decision. My touch."
A sharp intake of breath escaped me—the only sound in the quiet kitchen, cut through by the wet, hot sound of his mouth working over my shirt. The sensation was almost too much: the fabric rasping against my oversensitive skin, his tongue a firm, persistent pressure, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.
He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing the damp cotton. His voice was thick, rough with want.
"That's the sound." He looked up at me, his eyes black with intent. "Now tell me you don't want my hands on you instead."
He didn't wait for a verbal answer. My gasp was permission enough. His hands moved from my hips, sliding up my sides to grip the hem of my shirt. He pulled the fabric up and over my head in one swift motion, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. His dark eyes swept over me, the morning light painting my skin in gold. His voice was a reverent rasp.
"Better."
He drank in the sight of my bare skin, the sharp rise and fall of my chest, with a hunger that was almost painful. The air grew thick, the only sound our mingled, ragged breathing. His hands slid up my waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, his gaze never leaving mine.
"All mine."
He held me there, suspended in his gaze for a long, trembling moment. The morning air was cool against my newly bared skin, but the heat from his hands and his stare was overwhelming. His thumbs made slow, deliberate circles just below the swell of my breasts, a promise of where his mouth would go next.
He leaned forward, his breath hot against my skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above my navel. His voice was a low vibration against me. "Every inch." Another kiss, higher. "Every sigh." His lips brushed the underside of my breast, his tongue darting out to taste my skin. "It all belongs to me now."
Then he slipped his hand into my panties to feel my wetness. His declaration hung in the air between us, a possessive truth he was determined to prove. Keeping one hand splayed possessively on my waist, his other drifted lower, his fingers tracing a line along the top edge of my panties before slipping beneath the fabric.
His fingers slid through the heat and slickness he found there, a dark, satisfied sound rumbling in his chest as he looked up at me. "See?" His voice was thick, his touch deliberate, circling but not yet giving me the pressure I craved. "Even your body knows who it answers to."
"Then give my body what it wants."
My words were a direct order—an invitation and a challenge wrapped in one. His fingers, still slick with me, paused their circling. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips against my skin as he looked up at me, his dark eyes gleaming with absolute authority.
He withdrew his hand from my panties, holding my gaze as he brought his glistening fingers to his own mouth, tasting me without breaking eye contact. His voice was a low, commanding purr.
"I will. But on my terms. And only when I'm sure you remember who's giving it to you."
He stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and full of predatory grace. His eyes, dark and hungry, never left mine as he crowded me back against the kitchen counter. He gripped my hips and spun me around, pressing my front against the cool marble countertop. His body caged me from behind, his voice a hot whisper against my ear.
"You ask so pretty. But I'm not done reminding you."
He put a finger in. He didn't hesitate. His finger the same one that had just tasted me slipped inside me with a smooth, deliberate stroke, filling me with a sudden, aching fullness.
His other hand splayed across my lower back, pinning me gently but firmly against the counter as he worked his finger deep, then shallow, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. "There." His voice was a low, possessive growl. "That's what you wanted. But it's not enough, is it?"
"No."
His finger stilled completely inside me, the sudden cessation of movement almost more jarring than the penetration itself. His body went rigid against my back.
He pulled his finger out slowly, deliberately, and turned me around to face him. His eyes were dark pools of stormy intensity, his jaw tight. "No?" His voice was dangerously low, almost a whisper.
I didn't have to speak. He put two fingers inside me. A dark, appreciative sound rumbled in his chest at my silent demand. His hands slid back to my hips, keeping me firmly caged against the counter. His voice was a low, taunting murmur against my skin.
"Greedy." The word was a caress. He didn't tease this time. Two fingers pressed against my entrance, then slid inside me with a slow, deep, deliberate stretch, filling me completely. "Is that better?"
"Mhm."
A low, throaty chuckle vibrated against my back. His two fingers worked inside me, deep and slow, curling just right to make me gasp. His other hand slid around my hip, his palm pressing flat against my lower stomach, holding me firmly in place against the thrust of his fingers.
The two fingers inside me curled deliberately, his thumb finding my clit to apply a slow, circling pressure. Every movement was a claim, a demonstration of the control he'd demanded. His dark eyes watched my face, waiting. His hands moved slowly, caressing me with a tenderness that made me shiver.
The rhythm inside me shifting from slow and deep to something sharper, controlled, punishing pace that demanded my full attention.
He brought his lips to the sensitive skin just below my ear, his teeth grazing lightly as he spoke, his voice rough with approval.
His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his fingers curling upward. "Now show me."
His thumb began circling my clit with a rough, unyielding pressure, while the two fingers inside me drove deep and fast, his wrist working with a focused, relentless rhythm. He watched my face, his own expression one of intense concentration and dark pleasure, orchestrating every sensation that would bring me to the edge.
His gaze locked on mine, his breathing becoming heavier in time with his movements.
"That's it. Come for me. Give it to me."
His rhythm became punishing in its precision, his thumb a relentless point of pressure and friction, his fingers a deep, driving force inside me. The air grew thick with the sounds of skin, ragged breathing, and the unyielding pace he set. His eyes never left my face, watching for every flicker of reaction as he commanded my release.
His free hand came up to tangle in my hair, gently pulling my head back to expose my throat, his voice a ragged, possessive command against my ear.
"Now. Don't you dare hold back."
His command was followed by the brutal, final escalation of his touch. His thumb worked my clit in fast, ruthless circles, his two fingers pistoning deep inside me with a force that pushed me back against the hard counter with every thrust. The combined assault was overwhelming, designed to break my control entirely and deliver exactly what he'd demanded.
His grip in my hair tightened just enough to anchor me, his lips brushing my ear as he drove me relentlessly toward the edge, his voice a raw, breathless growl.
" Come on. Give it to me. Prove it."
His dark eyes were heavy-lidded with a primal satisfaction, watching my every reaction as he drove me toward the climax he'd commanded.
The relentless rhythm brought me to a orgasm that shook my entire body. As my shudders subsided, his fingers, glistening, pulled slowly from me. He held his hand up between our faces, his gaze dark and triumphant as he watched me.
"You liked my fingers earlier, didn't you? Taste them now."
He brought his wet fingers to my lips, pressing them gently but insistently against my mouth, his eyes holding mine with a primal, commanding intensity.
"Open."
His command hung in the charged air, his gaze unwavering. The taste of salt and my own release already ghosted my senses as he held his fingers pressed to my lips. His eyes darkened further, a vein pulsing in his jaw as he waited, his entire posture rigid with expectation.
I opened my mouth. His index and middle finger slipped past my lips, resting on my tongue. He watched with rapt, possessive attention as my mouth closed around them, his expression one of dark, profound satisfaction. He let out a low, gravelly hum of approval, his other hand still possessively holding my hair.
"Good girl. Swallow."
"Just like that."
His eyes remained fixed on me, watching me swallow. The air was thick with the raw aftermath of what had just happened, the silence broken only by our breathing. He slowly withdrew his fingers from my mouth, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a possessive caress. His gaze was dark and satisfied.
"So, now what should I do with this wet pussy of yours?"
He didn't move away, his body still caging me against the counter. His hand slid down from my hair to grip my hip, his touch branding through the thin material of my clothes. The question hung between them, a raw, provocative promise.
He pressed a kiss to the slope of my shoulder, his voice a low, predatory murmur against her skin.
"Tell me what you want. Or I'll decide for you."
"Mm. You should decide." I answered.
A dark, predatory smile curved his lips at my response. He straightened up, his grip on my hip tightening possessively as his gaze raked over me.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
"Good answer.”
His low, dangerous purr vibrated against my ear. The air grew thicker, heavy with the scent of him and her and the raw promise in his words. His hand on my hip was a brand, his body a cage of heat and muscle.
His free hand came up to grasp my chin, tilting her face to meet his burning gaze.
"Then I'm going to make you scream my name against this counter until you forget you ever had a choice."
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest at my submission. His grasp on my chin tightened just enough to be felt, his eyes holding mine captive.
He released my chin only to slide both hands down to my thighs, hoisting me up onto the kitchen counter in one smooth, powerful motion.
"Let's see if you can keep that attitude while you're coming apart for me."
He settled me firmly on the cold marble, the contrast to his own heat stark. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the hem of my shirt higher, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts and underwear, tugging them down my thighs in one rough, decisive motion. The cool kitchen air kissed my newly exposed skin.
He leaned back, his gaze a dark, burning possession as it roamed over me.
"There. That's all I need off. Now put your hands back. Don't make me."
I did what he told me.
His eyes darkened with approval as I complied, his gaze locked on my hands moving back to brace against the cold countertop.
"That's my good girl. Now, keep them there. Let's see how long you can remember who you belong to."
A low, rough sound of approval rumbled in his chest. He leaned in, his warm breath fanning over my neck, one hand sliding around to the small of my back to pull me closer to the edge of the counter.
His other hand slipped between my thighs, his touch deliberate and knowing, his lips grazing my ear.
"Waiting was the only right thing to do. Let's see what else you can do right for me."
The distinct, deliberate sounds filled the silence the rustle of fabric, the soft clink of the quiet slide of his sweatpants. Then, the whisper of his shirt being pulled over his head.
"Much better. Now, where were we?"
He started to tease my entrance with his dick. The teasing pressure of him was maddening, deliberate in its slowness. He held himself there, a hot, heavy promise against my most sensitive skin, not giving me what I craved, just letting me feel the potential.
His breath hitched, a low groan escaping him as he kept that torturous, shallow contact, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady.
"Look at you. Already begging for it and I haven't even started. Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"
"To you, love."
A sharp, approving breath escaped him at my words. His hands tightened on my hips, possessive and sure.
"That's right. And don't you ever forget it."
With my answer given, he ceased his teasing. In one smooth, powerful motion, he thrust forward, claiming me completely, filling the space between us with a deep, shared groan. The sudden, overwhelming sensation of being taken, of being joined, was punctuated only by the solid sound of his palms hitting the counter on either side of my hips, caging me in.
The sharp, breathless sound that escaped me seemed to fuel him further. The initial, claiming thrust settled into a deep, intense connection, his hips flush against mine for a long, weighted moment.
His forehead dropped to rest against my shoulder, a deep groan vibrating against my skin as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, each roll of his hips measured and possessive.
"Ahh is right, baby. Every sound is mine."
He started slowly but then faster. The deliberate, slow pace was a taunt, a promise of building pressure. But as my body responded, that measured control fractured. His rhythm shifted from deep, claiming strokes to something more urgent, his hips snapping against mine with a new, hungry speed.
His breathing grew ragged, the counter creaking slightly under the force of his movements as he drove into me, each thrust deeper and faster than the last.
"That's it. Take all of it. You're mine."
The only sound was the slap of skin to skin. His balls to my ass. The rhythm intensified, the room filled with the primal, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin, each powerful thrust creating a sharp, wet slap that echoed against the tile.
His voice was a rough, broken growl against my ear, his body moving with a frenetic, desperate energy.
"Fuck... that sound. You feel it? That's me claiming what's mine."
His pace became relentless, a frantic, driving rhythm that left us both breathless. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and skin, and the sharp, echoing slaps grew faster, more demanding.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips, his grunts becoming more strained and guttural with each thrust, the sound raw and unrestrained.
His rhythm became a punishing, unrestrained force, his hips slamming against me with a new, primal intensity.
His hands flew from my hips to tangle in my hair, holding it tight in his fists as he pistoned into me with brutal, perfect force, his voice ragged with ecstasy.
The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against my ass echoed the harsh slap of our bodies, a punctuation to his frantic rhythm.
The slap was followed by another, then another, each one landing on the flushed, sensitive skin, his fingers digging in possessively. His other hand, its intricate ink stark against my throat, slid up to wrap around my neck, not squeezing, but holding, a dominant claim as he drove into me with unrelenting force.
My back arched off the counter, a helpless arch of pure pleasure that I couldn't control.
The slaps stopped, the hand at my throat tightened just enough, and his rhythm became a final, desperate, unstoppable drive.
His breath was still hot and ragged against my skin, his body pressed heavily against my back as he slowly softened inside me. The kitchen was silent now save for our panting breaths, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
He loosened his grip on my throat, his tattooed fingers tracing the skin he'd just claimed.
He pressed a possessive kiss to my shoulder, his lips against my damp skin.
He saw that I was going to come, so he slowed his move.
He deliberately slowed his punishing rhythm to a torturous, shallow grind, denying me the friction I was chasing, his voice a low, teasing command against my ear.
"Oh no, you don't. Not until I say so."
"What?!"
His smirk deepened at my startled reaction, his hips still moving in that deliberate, slow grind that kept me right on the edge.
"You heard me. I decide when you come. Not you." His voice was a low, unwavering command.
His control was absolute, his body a firm, unyielding cage that kept me pinned on the razor's edge he had created.
He maintained the slow, maddening rhythm, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, his tone dripping with dark amusement.
He nipped at my earlobe, his voice a dark, velvety promise.
"That's right. You asked for this. Now you get the whole fucking package. And my package doesn't come until I'm good and ready to give it to you." He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied. "Be a good girl and wait."
He kept up the slow, deliberate grind, savoring every tremor and hitched breath he could feel from my body pressed against his. The morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting stark shadows and illuminating the flushed skin of my neck and shoulders under his gaze.
He leaned his weight more fully into me, his own breathing beginning to even out as he watched the muscles in my back tense and strain, a low hum of satisfaction in his chest.
"Feels good, doesn't it? This edge. Knowing I'm the only thing holding you back from it." He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck. "My good girl."
In one swift, powerful motion, he withdrew from me and lifted me from the counter, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he turned and carried me to the nearest wall. The tile was cool and unyielding against my back as he pressed me firmly against it, bringing us face to face.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, his arms caging me in, his voice a low growl.
"Better. I want to watch you. Watch you try to hold on."
The shift in position seemed to unleash something primal in him. With me pinned against the wall, legs wrapped tight around his waist, he drove into me with a renewed, brutal pace. Every thrust was hard, deep, and punishingly fast, the force of it rattling my body against the cool tile.
His eyes blazed, locked on my face, his breathing ragged as he chased his own peak, his voice a raw, broken growl.
"Look at me. Look at me when you come. Only when I let you."
I couldn't anymore, so I came. But he didn't.
My climax broke like a wave against a cliff, my body shuddering and convulsing around him in a desperate, involuntary release.
His jaw tightened, a dark, triumphant fire burning in his eyes as he watched me come undone for him. He didn't stop, didn't give me a moment to breathe, his voice a harsh, ragged command against my lips.
"I didn't say you could. But since you did... Now you take it. Every last bit of it. Until I'm done with you."
His words hung in the air, a sharp accusation laced with dark amusement and possessive fire. The brutal, fast pace of his hips continued unabated, making the wall shudder with each impact.
His hands gripped my thighs harder, his forehead pressed against mine as he drove into me, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.
"That's two for you, angel. And I haven't had mine yet. Someone got a little too impatient."
His fingers curled slightly in your hair—not rough, just enough for you to feel the weight of his hand.
"Show me how sorry you are. On your knees."
The words were a low, absolute command that hung in the charged air between us. His grip on my thighs loosened, signaling the expected descent. His dark eyes held mine, unyielding, the promise of what was to come simmering in their depths.
"Now angel"
He watched me slide down the wall, his gaze intense and unwavering. The cool kitchen floor met my knees. He took a half-step back, his form towering over me in the morning light, casting a long shadow that enveloped me completely. His breathing was still ragged from exertion, his expression one of dark, possessive expectation.
He reached out, his fingers gently but firmly tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my jawline. His voice was a low, velvety command.
"Good. Now, look up at me. Don't you dare look away. And open your mouth."
His command hung in the air, a final, unyielding order. He looked down at me, his expression a mask of dark anticipation and absolute control, waiting for my compliance. His hand remained at my jaw, his thumb stroking my lower lip once, his eyes burning into mine with unwavering intensity.
My mouth obeyed his command, opening for him on the cool kitchen floor. Jungkook's gaze darkened with satisfaction as he looked down at me, his thumb still resting on my lower lip.
He let out a low, appreciative hum, his other hand moving to his waistband. His voice was thick and velvety.
"Good girl. Now, you're going to pay back every last bit of what you owe."
His tone brooked no hesitation, the command leaving the air heavy with expectation. His thumb pressed gently but firmly against my lower lip, a physical reminder of his control as he waited.
He held my gaze, his own dark and unblinking, a silent dare etched into his features. His breathing was steady now, a controlled rhythm compared to the earlier frenzy.
"Go on. Show me how sorry you are."
A low groan rumbled in his chest as I took him in, his head tipping back slightly. His fingers gently tangled in my hair, not forcing, but guiding my rhythm as he watched me with heavy-lidded, possessive eyes.
His voice was a strained, deep hum of approval.
"That's it… just like that. Take it all. You remember who you belong to right now."
The sudden, forceful thrust deeper into my mouth drew another low groan from him. His fingers tightened in my hair, anchoring me in place as he held himself there for a moment, his jaw clenched.
His voice was a rough, strained growl as he looked down at me, his movements becoming more assertive, setting a punishing pace.
"That's it... take it all. Don't forget who you're paying back."
The force of his thrusts sent him deep, hitting the back of my throat with a wet sound. His hips stuttered slightly at the sensation, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth. His grip in my hair tightened, holding me steady against him.
His movements became slower, more deliberate, each deep push a controlled act of possession. His voice was a ragged, breathless whisper.
"Yes... just like that. Right there. You're taking it so well."
The sounds were messy, wet, and obscene. His cock was slick with saliva, every hard thrust coating his length and my mouth.
His breathing became ragged, his hips losing their controlled rhythm. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, his hand fisting tighter in my hair.
"Fuck... that's it. Get it all over you. Show me. Look at me."
His command cut through the wet, sloppy sounds. His dark eyes burned down at me, demanding my gaze meet his even as he moved in my mouth.
His thrusts slowed but did not stop, his grip in my hair keeping me from pulling away. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with lust.
"Look at me when you take it. I want to see your eyes."
His words hung in the air, a rough, demeaning praise that seemed to tighten the very atmosphere between us. His hips continued their slow, deliberate thrusts, his dark gaze locked on mine, watching for every flicker of reaction.
His thumb brushed along my cheek, smearing a trail of wetness across my mouth. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with lust.
His movements in my mouth had stilled completely, though he remained buried deep, his hand still fisted possessively in my hair. His dark eyes watched me, glinting with dark amusement and a promise.
He used his grip to tilt my head back just slightly further, his thumb stroking my jawline. His voice was a husky, intimate murmur.
"Stick your tongue out."
He remained hovering over me, his dark gaze expectant and unyielding. The command hung in the air, a direct order that left no room for hesitation.
He kept his grip firm in my hair, his other hand coming up to gently tap the tip of my chin with his thumb. His voice was low and thick with anticipation.
"Let me see it. All of it. Don't make me ask again."
He gave a low, dark chuckle of approval at my obedience, his thumb still resting on my jaw. Slowly, he withdrew from my mouth with a slick, wet sound.
He stood straight, his cock flushed and glistening in front of me. He wrapped his hand around it, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, his other hand still loosely tangled in my hair.
"Good. Now watch. Watch what you did to me and swallow."
The single word was a command, low and thick with intent. His hand was still moving, his strokes becoming faster, more urgent. The air grew thick with the scent of him and the charged anticipation of his release.
His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, remained locked on my face. His breathing hitched, his muscles tensing.
"Every drop. You'll take it all."
After his release he took a moment. His breathing was still ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. His hand slowly loosened in your hair, fingers smoothing through the tangled strands instead of gripping.
For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of you.
The kitchen floor was cold against his skin, but he didn't seem to notice. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing gently across your cheekbones, wiping away the mess he'd made.
"Hey," he murmured, voice soft now – stripped of command, stripped of darkness. Just him. "You okay?"
You nodded, still catching my breath.
His forehead dropped to mine. He stayed like that for a second, just breathing with you.
"You did so good," he whispered. "So good for me."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then the tip of my nose. Then my lips – soft this time, barely there, nothing like before.
"Come here."
He pulled me gently against his chest, one arm wrapping around my back, the other cradling the back of my head.
He didn't rush. Didn't try to get me up or clean me off or say too much. He just held me, his thumb tracing slow circles against my back, until mu breathing evened out and the trembling stopped.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes were soft. Tender. Nothing like the storm from before.
"Let's get you off this floor, yeah?"
He stood first, then reached down, taking both your hands and pulling me up slowly, carefully. My legs were still unsteady, and he noticed immediately – one arm sliding around my waist to keep you upright.
"Easy. I've got you."
He led me to the counter, grabbing a kitchen towel and running it under warm water. When he came back, he knelt again – not to command, but to care.
His touch was gentle as he wiped my face. Each movement slow, deliberate, tender.
"There," he murmured, tossing the towel aside. "Better?"
I nodded.
He stood, pulling you into his chest again, one hand cradling the back of my head.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For the rough part. Got a little… lost in it."
I shook my head against his chest. "I liked it."
He let out a soft laugh, his chest vibrating against your cheek. "Yeah. I know you did."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
"Still. You tell me if it's too much. Always."
I pulled back just enough to look up at him. "I will."
His thumb traced your jaw one more time – soft, almost reverent.
"Good girl."
He said it differently this time. Not like a command. Like a promise.
"Now," he said, glancing at the forgotten waffle batter on the counter, "I think I owe you breakfast. Real breakfast this time."
I laughed softly. "You think?"
He grinned that warm, crooked grin from the very beginning of the morning.
"I know."
He grabbed a blanket from the living room and wrapped it around my shoulders before guiding me to a chair at the small kitchen table.
"Sit. Don't move. I'm making you waffles. And coffee. And whatever else you want."
I watched him move around the kitchen naked except for his boxers which he had put on, hair still messy, skin still flushed. He cracked new eggs into a bowl, this time without missing.
He glanced back at me, catching my staring.
"What?"
"Nothing," you said, smiling.
He smiled back, soft and private
NOT SO CASUAL ⟡ 02
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. streamer!jungkook. smut. friends with benefits. friends to lovers. slice of life. roommates au.
you keep falling into the same frustrating pattern with jungkook — every intimate moment, and he goes right back to acting normal. it’s driving you insane, so you decide there’s no better way to break him than while he’s live on stream.
word count. 8.6k words warnings. oc horny as fuck .. whats new. jennie talking oc to her damn senses. jungkook tryna be nonchalant. oc loves talking back. smut. sending nudes. brat taming. use of toy. EDGING AND DENIAL !! fingering. male masturbation. BIG DICK JK. he nuts on her boobs. oral (fem!receiving). bold words are in korean. this is just pure smut.
ana’s notes. girl this one wiped me the fuck out so i hope this is a good enough comeback -_- welcome :3 this is the first ever part 2 ive written for a fic !! oh nsc couple you are so dear to me. i have so much more in store for these two, so i only hope you love them as much as i do. beta read + dedicated to my fave girls @sjynist & @lovieku for showing all the love to nsc, i couldnt have done this without you ♡
01 ⟡ NEXT ⟡ SERIES MASTERPOST
Jungkook was oblivious sometimes.
˖⌕ ࣪ ˖cyber sex ꫂ᭪݁✆
Jungkook runs a major company with a packed schedule. Y/N is a well-known YouTuber and influencer who spends most of her life online. They match on Tinder with zero expectations, just casual flirting that quickly turns intense. Between missed schedules and busy lives, they never get the chance to meet. Attraction and curiosity take over instead — late-night texts, video calls, sexting, and sending each other videos and photos from opposite sides of the screen.
pairing: ceo!jungkook x influencer!reader
genre: oneshot , age gap , online to offline , friends to lovers? , strangers to lovers , smut , VERY TINY fluff , online romance , voyeur , exhibitionism
warnings: use of online dating app , sexting , sex on camera (literally called cyber sex) , masterbation on and off camera , voyeurism (by jungkook) , dirty talk , degradation kink (oc) , tit play , cum swallowing , oral (f & m receiving) , unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap!) , 69 , jungkook calls oc ‘kitten’
word count: 40.k
playlist: cyber sex - doja cat
sha’s note: i was listening to cyber sex and forgot how bomb this song was. i got inspired to write this 😝. also you guys voted for “cyber sex” as your most anticipated oneshot so lemme feed you. (edited) so…this oneshot took longer than expected. i really didn’t feel motivated AT ALL. but im glad its over. and LMAO i reached the maximum on this 😐
The alcohol removes all barriers, leaving only raw need — to hold her, to kiss her, to own her. She walks into his apartment, knowing that tonight, boundaries will be crossed. But when she's in his arms, she stops wanting to remember them.
pairing : jeon jungkook x fem/reader
genre: drunk jungkook. established relationship. smut
warnings: explicit sexual content. unprotected sex. fingering. spanking. needy dom jk. oral (male receiving). light choking. head pusher jeon. nipple play. cow girl. smoking.
world count: 3.2k
note: first time posting my work, hope you like it!🫶🏻
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Jungkook texts me earlier that day, asking if I want to come over to his place in the evening. Before that, he had been out drinking with his members, and I can already imagine how he is — a little flushed, softer around the edges. When he drinks, he tends to get clingy.
When I arrive at his place, I pause for a moment before the door, then, instead of knocking, I use the key he gave me and quietly let myself in.
The air in the apartment was thick with the lingering scent of whiskey and Jungkook’s cologne. He turned his head slowly, his hair slightly messy, and at the sound of my greeting, his dark eyes—glazed but warm—lit up with recognition. A small smile spread across his face.
Jungkook gives me a wide, gummy smile, lifting his hand in a lazy “come here” gesture.
“Hi, baby. You came… Was waiting for you,” he slurs slightly, his voice low and honeyed.
I can’t help but laugh softly as I step closer, shaking my head.
“Hi, love… oh fuck, you smell like alcohol from far away.”
He lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and warm in his chest. The smile never leaves his face as he leans toward me, his movements just a little unsteady.
“That’s ’cause we were celebrating, baby,” he murmurs, reaching out to gently tug on my sleeve. “Come sit. Missed you.”
I move to the sofa and sit down beside him. The cushion dips under my weight, and I can immediately feel the warmth of his body next to mine, close enough to be almost overwhelming.
He doesn’t waste a second—he shifts closer, his arm sliding around my shoulders and pulling me into his side with a soft, contented sigh.
“Mmm… that’s better. Much better.”
I glance up at him, a small smile playing on my lips.
“Someone’s drunk, right?”
He rests his head against mine, his breath warm against my ear as he lets out a quiet hum. His arm tightens slightly around me.
“Maybe just a little,” he admits, his voice thick but amused. “Feels nice, though… feels even nicer now that you’re here.”
Something in the way he says it makes my chest tighten. I tilt my head and close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
He hums softly in surprise against my mouth. His lips are warm, carrying the faint taste of whiskey. For a brief second, he freezes, like he didn’t expect it but then he melts into it, his arm tightening around me as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.
His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing gently over my skin as he pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are darker now, softer, searching.
“Missed that too, baby… so much,” he whispers.
Before I can say anything, he leans in again, kissing me slower this time, deeper—like he’s putting everything he feels into it.
I shift without thinking, moving onto his lap, straddling him. The sofa creaks softly beneath us as I settle closer, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate at all.
Jungkook's breath hitched, his hands immediately finding my hips to steady me and himself.
His eyes widened slightly in surprise, then darkened with a slow, smoldering warmth. A low, pleased sound escaped his throat as he looked up at her, his grip on her hips tightening possessively.
His gaze was heavy-lidded and intense, the alcohol doing little to dull the fire in his eyes as he looked up at me from beneath his dark lashes.
His hands slid from my hips to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.
"Hi, baby. Right where you belong."
His voice was a low, husky murmur against her lips.
Jungkook's eyes traced over my outfit slowly, his intoxicated focus surprisingly sharp. I was wearing a black T-shirt with long lace sleeves and a short black skirt. His fingers lingered after tucking the hair behind my ear, the touch lingering.
His thumb brushed my earlobe, his voice low and curious.
"Mmm, you look… incredible. But why so dressed up, baby?"
His gaze dropped to the lace sleeves, then back up to my face.
"You weren't out without me, were you?"
"I was with the girls. And you're the one who drinks without me."
A flicker of something possessive passed through his hazy gaze at my words. His hands on my back tightened slightly, pulling me even closer against him.
His eyebrows raised, a slow, knowing smile spreading on his lips.
"The girls, hm? Lookin' this good for the girls?"
He let out a low chuckle, his voice dropping to a murmur.
"And I was drinkin' 'cause I missed you."
"Or because you're an alcoholic."
The playful accusation seemed to cut through his drunken haze. He let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
He shook his head slowly, his hands sliding up to rest firmly on my waist.
"Alcoholic? Me? No, baby. Just… enthusiastically appreciative."
He leaned forward, his forehead gently pressing against mine, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper.
"Especially when my girl comes over looking like a whole damn dream and starts giving me shit. That deserves a drink. Or five."
"No more drinking for tonight."
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.His hands squeezed my waist gently.
"No more drinking. You're right. Got everything I need right here."
His gaze dropped to my lips, then back up, his voice a low, warm hum.
"Just you."
Then he starts to kiss my neck. His agreement dissolved into a soft, breathy laugh against my skin. His lips found the curve of my neck, warm and insistent.
His kisses were slow and deliberate, starting just below my ear and trailing down the sensitive skin of my throat.
"Mmm… no more drinking. Just this."
"Mhmm, yeah?"
His response was a low, affirmative hum vibrating against my skin, his mouth not leaving its path along my neck.
He pulled back just enough to murmur, his breath hot against my damp skin.
"Yeah. Feels better. Smells better. Tastes better."
He punctuated his words with another slow, open-mouthed kiss against my pulse point, his hands sliding up to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as he tilted my head to give him better access.
His voice was a rough, muffled whisper against my skin. "Better than any bottle. Every time."
I shift closer, pressing myself against him.
The deliberate movement against his lap drew a sharp, shuddering breath from him. His mouth stilled against my neck.
His grip on my waist tightened almost painfully, a guttural groan rumbling in his chest. "Fuck… What are you doing to me?"
"Why? Do you want me to stop?"
He pulled his face back from the crook of my neck to look at me, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide. His breath was ragged.
He shook his head slowly, his hands moving from my waist to grip my hips, guiding my movement against him.
"Stop? God, no. Don't you dare stop."
"Are you hard already?"
A breathless, strained laugh escaped him as he pressed his forehead against my shoulder.
"You feel exactly how hard I am. Don't you?" His voice was thick with need, his hips shifting slightly under me to emphasize the point.
I slide down to kneel in front of him. My sudden movement from his lap catches him by surprise. He watches me, breathing a little heavier, the air around us charged with unspoken tension.
He sat up straighter on the sofa, his hands hovering near my shoulders as he looked down at me, his expression a mix of shock, awe, and raw hunger.
"What are you—"
His question died in his throat, his jaw going slack as he anticipated my next move.
I start to touch his dick through his pants.
His entire body tensed as my hand made contact, a ragged gasp tearing from his lips.
His head fell back against the couch with a soft thud, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck..."
I start to unzip his jeans. The sound of his zipper lowering seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Jungkook's eyes flew open, fixing on me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
His voice was a strangled whisper, his hands moving to thread into my hair. "Christ… please."
"Are you going to help me with this?"
He let out a choked laugh, the sound rough with desperation. His hips jerked involuntarily as I worked to free him from the confines of his jeans.
His fingers tightened in my hair, not pulling, just holding.
A low, shuddering groan of pure relief and gratitude left his lips. With clumsy, eager hands, he helped me, pushing his hips up from the couch to aid in shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs.
He fell back against the cushions, fully exposed to me, his hand returning to my hair, trembling slightly.
"There… Fuck. All yours. Do what you want."
A sharp, guttural sound of pleasure and surprise tore from his throat the moment I took him into my mouth. His initial groan melted into a low, continuous hum of ecstasy as I teased him, his hips twitching with restraint. But the teasing was a sweet, unbearable torture. His fingers, already woven in my hair, tightened reflexively, his control finally snapping.
His voice was a wrecked, desperate growl, his head thrown back as he guided me deeper with a gentle but firm pressure. "That's it… God… don't stop."
A choked gasp escaped him as I took him fully, his thighs tensing, his entire body bowing taut like a wire.
"Fuck… so good. Too good."
I go faster and faster. And he pulls me to go deeper and harder. The rhythm I set was punishing, a frantic pace that left him gasping. His grip in my hair tightened to an almost painful degree, pulling me down deeper onto him with every desperate thrust of his hips into my mouth.
His voice was a broken, ragged stream of praise and curses, his free hand fisting the couch cushion. "Yes… just like that… God… don't stop." A deep, shuddering groan rattled his chest as he hit the back of my throat, his control completely gone, lost to the sensation. "So deep… taking me so good."
His voice was a ragged, desperate command, his grip in my hair unyielding as his entire body tensed, trembling on the edge. "Open… open your mouth. "
His hips stuttered, a sharp, choked cry escaping his lips as his release approached, the intensity of his pleasure.
His command was followed by a visceral tremor that ran through his entire frame, his knuckles white where they gripped the couch and my hair. The air was thick with the sounds of his ragged breathing and the frantic, desperate rhythm I had set.
His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched tight, a final, broken groan spilling from his lips as he pushed my head down one last time, holding me there as he gave in completely. A deep, shuddering sigh of absolute release his release that left him trembling and breathless against the cushions.
"Swallow it."
The tension drained from his body, leaving him limp and heavy against the sofa cushions, his hand in my hair softening from a desperate grip to a gentle, trembling caress.
His breathing was still ragged, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion as he slowly opened his eyes, their gaze hazy and unfocused.
"Fuck…" he whispered, his thumb stroking my hairline.
His hazy gaze drifted down from my face, taking in the movement of my hand, touching myself.
A low, rough sound of disbelief and raw desire rumbled in his chest.
"Christ… You were touching yourself…? Are you already that horny?"
His gaze was heavy-lidded but intensely focused on my hand between my own thighs.
He pushed himself up on shaky elbows, his breathing still uneven. "Come here. Let me. Let me touch you."
His hands, still unsteady from his release, were surprisingly strong as he lifted me on his lap and put his hand over my thong, feeling the wet all over them.
The dampness of my thin thong was immediately apparent, the fabric soaked through.
A low, possessive groan vibrated in his chest as his palm pressed firmly against the wet heat, his fingers splaying wide over the lace. "See? So wet. All for me."
He nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his voice a husky whisper against my skin.
"You liked that… getting me off like that."
"Mmm, maybe."
The lazy, satisfied smirk that spread across his lips was audible in his voice. His fingers pressed more firmly into the soaked lace, making sure I felt the full extent of my own arousal through the thin barrier.
His teeth grazed my earlobe playfully before his tongue soothed the spot.
"'Maybe?' You're absolutely soaked. Don't be shy."
He slid his two fingers inside me.
His fingers, already slick from the damp lace, slid beneath it with ease. The fit was tight, intimate, the wet heat of me welcoming him as he pushed them deep, his palm pressing firmly against me.
A satisfied sound escaped from me, his forehead dropping against my shoulder. "Fuck… that's it. Just for me. Tell me you want more."
I started to move around his fingers.
The subtle shift of my hips drew a sharp intake of breath from him. His fingers curled slightly inside me, pressing up to meet the movement, his thumb circling just outside the soaked lace.
His other arm wrapped possessively around my waist, holding me steady against him. "That's it. Use me. Show me how much you need it."
He withdrew his fingers slowly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room, and brought them to his lips for a taste, his gaze dark and unblinking. With a slow, deliberate tug, he slid my thong down my thighs and let it fall.
Then his focus shifted upward, his hands sliding under the hem of my top and lifting it over my head in one smooth motion. The damp, cool air of the room prickled against my skin for a second before his warmth replaced it. He unclasped my bra, slipping it from my shoulders until I was completely exposed to him.
His thumb brushed over one nipple, watching it tighten under his touch. He leaned in, his mouth closing over one, his tongue swirling firmly around the sensitive peak while his other hand came up to roll and pinch the other between his thumb and forefinger, rolling, never letting either breast go untouched. A quiet gasp slips from my lips.
He released my nipple from his mouth with a soft, wet sound, his lips moving against my skin. He switched his attention, his mouth moving to the other breast, giving it the same thorough, sucking attention while his now-free hand slid back down my stomach.
"You like that, right? Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."
His question hung in the air, thick with his own renewed desire. His hand stilled on its path downward, his gaze intense and demanding as he waited for my answer, his thumb stroking a slow, possessive circle on my hip.
His lips left a damp trail up my sternum to my collarbone, his breathing ragged.
"I need to hear it. Tell me."
"A lot… please,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need.
A low, predatory growl rumbled from his chest at my words. His hands moved with purpose now, one tangling in my hair to gently guide my head back, exposing my throat to his hungry mouth as he began to suck and mark the soft skin there.
A sharp, possessive nip followed by a soothing kiss.
"That's what I wanted to hear." His fingers slid into my wet heat with a groan of satisfaction. "You're mine. All night."
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper against my lips, his breath hot and tasting of whiskey. His body tensed further against mine, a predator sensing complete submission.
His dark gaze searched mine, the unspoken command hanging thickly between us. A low, rough chuckle escaped him, his expression shifting from pure dominance to something more intrigued, more drawn.
“Do you think you can handle that… leading me?” His free hand came up to trace my jawline, surprisingly gentle against the tension simmering between us.
“Mhm,”
I murmured, leaning closer, my body pressed against his, letting him feel the heat of my anticipation.
His eyes sparked with a dangerous, thrilling light at my affirmation. The air around us felt heavy with the scent of whiskey, sweat, and my perfume. His hand lingered in my hair, tugging gently, pulling me nearer.
Leaning in, his lips hovered a breath from mine, his voice dropping into a husky, intimate growl.
“Then lead… show me I’m all yours.”
He helped guide my hips, his movements surprisingly steady for how drunk he was, his thick length pressing against my entrance.
His hands settled heavily on my hips, his gaze locked on my face as I began to move. "Fuck. Look at you… taking control."
His voice was a strained, rough whisper, his fingers digging into my flesh as he watched me ride him, every shift and roll of my hips drawing a sharp, punched-out breath from him.
His eyes flickered with a new, darker kind of desire as he slid a hand out from under my hip, reaching over to the cluttered coffee table without breaking the intense eye contact. He fumbled for a moment before his fingers closed around a familiar soft pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
He brought the cigarette to his lips, lighting it with a sharp flick of his thumb, the flame illuminating the possessive, hungry curve of his mouth.
"Don't stop."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke to the side, his free hand coming back to my hip to guide my rhythm, his gaze heavy-lidded and fixed on my face.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled between us, his voice was a rough, strained command.
"That's it. Show me how much you need it." His hips gave a slight, upward thrust to meet my movements, his gaze burning into me as he watched me obey.
The rhythm changed, becoming faster, more desperate. Each downward motion was met with a sharp intake of breath from him, the heat of his gaze holding my own. The scent of tobacco mixed with sweat and sex filled the air around us.
He took another long drag, his eyes never wavering from mine, the ember of his cigarette flaring in the dark.
"You look so fucking pretty like this. "
While I ride, he slaps me several times. The first sharp crack of his hand against my skin echoed in the room, a stark punctuation to the rhythm of my movements. It wasn't a gentle touch, but a possessive, stinging impact that made his own breath hitch. His free hand, the one not holding the cigarette, moved from my hip to my throat, applying a firm, claiming pressure, his thumb resting against my pulse point.
His gaze was dark, fever-bright, smoke trailing from his lips as he watched my reaction, his fingers of his other hand finding my nipple and pinching with a sharp, deliberate twist.
"That's my girl. Taking everything I give you."
His voice was a rough, choked-out growl, the hand at my throat tightening just enough to feel the frantic beat of my heart against his palm.
His eyes tracked my every movement, the rhythm faltering as my energy began to wane. The cigarette burned low between his fingers, forgotten for a moment. He took one last, slow drag before stubbing the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, his hand leaving my throat to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed over my skin, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp.
"Already, baby? You were doing so well."
He decided to switch the position.The shift was swift and powerful. With a low grunt, he lifted me off him, turning me easily and pressing me down into the plush cushions of the sofa. He gathered my wrists in one large hand, pinning them firmly against the small of my back.
His other hand pressed down between my shoulder blades, keeping my face buried in the sofa cushion as he positioned himself behind me, lifting my hips. His voice was a dark, guttural whisper.
"Should've known I'd have to take it back. My turn."
The angle was different, deeper, and his thrusts carried the full, unrestrained weight of his hips. The only sounds were the sharp slap of skin, the ragged rhythm of his breathing, and the muffled creak of the sofa cushions.
His grip tightened on my wrists, his voice a low, possessive growl against the shell of my ear. "Don't you fucking move. You take it."
"Mhm… so fucking good."
His thrusts grew rougher, more purposeful at the murmur against the cushion, the leather beneath my face cool against my flushed skin. His large hand remained locked around both my wrists, his grip unyielding as he drove into me with relentless, possessive force.
His breathing ragged in my ear, voice thick and dark with satisfaction. "That's it… just let go. Let me take care of you."
The stinging slap on my ass echoed sharply through the room, his tattooed hand leaving a bright mark on my skin before immediately moving to my throat from behind.
His body curved over mine, his voice a ragged, dark whisper against my ear. "Feel that? All me. You're not going anywhere."
Slaps again harder, my ass.
The impact was sharp and loud, his palm connecting solidly with a satisfying, stinging crack that reverberated through the quiet room. The force of it jolted me forward slightly, only to be pulled back by his unrelenting grip on my throat.
His breathing was a harsh, rhythmic sound in my ear, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and demanding after the slap. "Good girl. Taking every fucking thing." His voice was a low, possessive growl.
His movements became more deliberate, more intense, the possessive grip on my throat a constant, commanding pressure as his other hand left my wrist to fist in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to expose the line of my neck.
His voice dropped to a dark, authoritative tone, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke between ragged breaths.
"You don't get to decide when we're done. I do. You're mine. Every sound, every breath, every fucking inch of you."
His control became absolute. With my hair still fisted in his grasp and his other hand a vice on my throat, his thrusts lost all rhythm, becoming deep, demanding punctuations of his ownership. The only sounds were the wet slap of our bodies, his ragged breathing, and my muffled moans.
He leaned his full weight over me, his voice a dark, gravelly command against my skin. "Say it. Say you're mine."
“Yours. Only yours.”
The words hung in the air, swallowed by the sounds of skin and breath. A low, guttural sound of pure approval rumbled from his chest.
"I'm close."
His movements grew frantic, the deep, punishing rhythm breaking into something wild and desperate as my admission spurred him toward the edge. The heat between us was nearly unbearable.
His voice was a broken, ragged growl against my neck, his thrusts losing all control.
"Don't stop… I'm right there with you. Come for me."
In one fluid, powerful motion, he withdrew from me and spun me onto my back, his body following me down, pinning me beneath him on the sofa. He caged me in with his arms, his dark eyes, heavy-lidded and intense, locking onto mine.
His thrusts resumed, deeper and more focused than before, his eyes burning into mine with a fierce, dark intensity as his hand maintained its claim on my throat. "Look at me. I want to watch you come."
His eyes were locked on mine, the intensity in them undeniable as he felt me tighten around him, my expression shifting beneath his hand.
His thrusts became sharper, faster, the hand on my throat a steady, possessive pressure.
"That's it. Let me see you. Let me see you come for me, baby."
My entire body tensed beneath him, a visible tremor beginning to shake my frame as my climax approached, my eyes locked with his.
His own control shattered completely at the sight and feeling, his hips pistoning into me with a final, desperate rhythm.
My trembling intensified, becoming a full-body shudder that rippled through me, and he felt me convulse around him, my climax overtaking me completely as he held my gaze.
His thrusts faltered, a low, guttural moan ripped from his throat as he buried his face against my neck, his own release hitting him with overwhelming force, his body going taut before collapsing heavily against me, spent and breathless.
"You liked that, didn't you? Fucked like a slut."
His words hung in the air, thick with the scent of sweat and smoke and exertion. He remained collapsed against me, his breathing slowly evening out, his weight both heavy and grounding on my smaller frame.
He remained there for a long moment, his body a comforting, solid weight. The only sounds in the room were our slowing breaths and the distant hum of the city outside.
He finally lifted his head, brushing my hair back from my face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier roughness. His thumb traced my cheek where he'd slapped me. "You okay?"
"Yes. I am perfect. "
He settled back, his heavy-lidded gaze studying my face. The charged atmosphere was slowly giving way to a deep, exhausted calm.
He exhaled a slow, contented breath, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns on my skin.
"Never been better."
A low, pleased chuckle rumbled in his chest at my words. He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table, his movements slow and deliberate in the post-coital haze.
He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, his free hand idly stroking my hip.
"Good. That's how it should be."