Summary: Submission doesn’t suit everyone and, as far as Jungkook is concerned, you wear it better than he does.
Warning(s): Smut, Sub!kook but also Dom!kook (lmfao pls forgive me), dirty talk, spanking, and a pinch orgasm denial because who wouldn’t want to watch Jungkook squirm.
A/N: Just leave me alone to die.
If you had to guess Jungkook’s least favorite thing to do, you would say that renouncing his power was likely it. In bed, anyway.
He always made sure to remind you that he was in charge of your pleasure, no matter what the situation. He administered it as generously or as sparingly as he saw fit. It hadn’t always been so, but Jungkook settled into his role as the dominant one quite naturally.
Evidently though, your leniency had taken its toll on his once obedient nature. You allowed him to grow confident in his ability to disarm you fully with just one brush of his hands over the right parts of your body, or dirty, whispered words against your neck, or the heat of his body pressing against yours. You had become forbearing, allowing him to push the limits of your control until he had effectively slipped it from your grasp entirely.
Stiles groaned and took a very long swig from his travel coffee mug as he hitched his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder. It was barely eight in the morning, and consequently, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was a grad student for fuck’s sake, and it was understood that in order to make up for the shitty stipend and the whole working-around-the-clock thing, he got to sleep in until 10. At least. After all, if he was up until 3 working, it was only fair. But noooo, his advisor—fuck you, Finstock—had insisted on an early meeting today.
He passed the bus stop and realized that at least he was lucky in that he lived close enough to campus that he could walk instead of dealing with public transportation at rush hour. Small condolences, really, though.
He yawned and accidentally bumped into someone walking past him. Stiles tried to apologize, but the word got stuck in his throat when he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the person he’d nearly knocked over. He was about Stiles’ height but bigger, all broad shoulders and muscles capped off by really great hair and an unfairly attractive face. “Uh.”
The guy gave him a curt little nod and neatly sidestepped him, continuing on his way. Stiles snuck a look over his shoulder, and yep, the rear view in those tight slacks was pretty good, too. The guy stopped at the bus stop, leaning against the sign, and Stiles sighed. It was a dreamy sigh, even he could admit that.
He had a feeling he was going to become a morning person.