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This Meeting Should've Been an Email

JP: this meeting should’ve been an email

YN: it should have been an email between the two of them

YN: i don’t even know what we’re doing here

JP: i'm online shopping

YN: 😂

YN: maybe i'll do the same

YN: spend all the money they don’t pay me

JP: atta girl!

You were trying to keep your face neutral, pretending you were listening to the discussion at hand, paying attention so that, if they directed a question to you, you’d be able to answer. Working from home was preferable to working in the office in a thousand different ways, but you did hate sitting on camera in a meeting that didn’t require you. Acting had never been your strong suit. You bit your lip, then rolled both into your mouth to stop yourself smiling.

JP: what do you think of this?

Jimin sent a link to a shirt so expensive, your mouth gaped without permission. Black and sheer, blousy with fewer buttons than sleeves. It was certainly something, but you weren’t sure it qualified as clothing—not for that price.

“Oh, I’ve just seen your face—is there something wrong?” your manager asked and you started.

“No, not at all! Sorry!”

You had no lie or excuse to give, so you hoped he wouldn’t probe. He didn’t.

YN: why would you spend so much money on so little fabric?

JP: it’s fucking beautiful, that’s why

YN: more beautiful than rent?

YN: or food?

JP: yes

You drummed your fingers on the desk, willing yourself to do some work, to at least look like you were doing some work.

You had got into the office early, as you liked to do, so had secured your favoured desk, in the back corner, where you could surf the internet (decidedly not working) as much as you liked without anyone able to see your screen.

You had all the right programs open: databases, emails, teams, spreadsheets, and checklists. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything with them.

Jimin had told you, first thing this morning, that he wasn’t going to come in today. You didn’t see the point of being there without him. Who would you go on unnecessary walks with, just to get out of working for ten minutes? Who would convince you that walking the further distance to the good coffee shop was definitely worth it, as were the pastries they sold that the closer one didn’t? Who would distract you for 75% of the day, if not Jimin?

No one.

You told yourself to do one task and then you could have a break. You turned back to your monitors and scanned your to-do list. You needed something quick and easy. Then an email came through from your manager. The subject alone made your stomach drop: Team changes!! The second exclamation mark wasn’t right at all.

“Hi all,

I’ve got some good news and bad news.

Bad news: Jimin is leaving us!

Good news: he’s got a great new position as a manager just down the road!

We’ll have to have some discussions around resourcing in Ops and I’ll of course feed that back to you and we’ll arrange how we’ll cover Jimin’s tasks in the interim. I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on before his last day, but we’re such a great team, I know we’ll manage! It’ll be a great loss, for sure, and we’ll all be sad to see him go, but I hope you can be happy for him, too.

See you in the meeting at 2.

Hugh”

Anger simmered in your gut before you could be sad. The passive aggression of ‘I know he’ll have a lot to train you guys on’ and the fact that Jimin hadn’t told you. That you knew it would be months before anyone was hired in Jimin’s place and that you would be expected to pick up all the slack, for no credit and no extra pay. That he hadn’t told you.

YN: you’re LEAVING?!?!?!!???!!?!?!?!

JP: yep!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: cannot believe you made me find out from HUGH

JP: 😇😇😇

YN: you’re not allowed to leave me here

JP: you should quit too!!!!

You left that one on read and decided to knuckle down to work. You had a lot to do, you decided, and it couldn’t be put off any longer.

You felt weirder than you had expected to. Unsettled for the rest of the day. Not really able to focus, but your mind wasn’t busy—there was nothing in it. You couldn’t fill it with numbers or comms or monitoring. Couldn’t fill it with office gossip (there wasn’t any). You took yourself on a walk, for fresh air, hoping the breeze would blow away the cobwebs, but that didn’t work either.

* * *

“Hi, Jimin!” Chloe called from across the office when Jimin entered, only in his second week of work.

“Hi!” he called back, walking away from your bank of desks and towards the ones at the other end of the room.

You rolled your eyes. Pretty boys were the popular ones. Go figure. You had known he would ingratiate himself with that little group the moment you had met: there was something almost simpering about the way he behaved when introduced around the office. As if it was some sort of one-man parade in which he was the star. Arrogant, you decided. Arrogant with no reason to be.

He had a dance background (even less relevant than your history degree) so it wasn’t as if he had any experience in this field. It was his first office job since graduating; he had graduated at the same time as you and had spent a year working in retail before landing this job. So he didn’t even necessarily have technical or communication skills. He just had a pretty face. And a dancer’s body.

You couldn’t work out how he became everybody’s best friend within five minutes. Even less when you started hearing people calling across the office for him to help with this problem and that.

“Jimin, can you show me how to do a purchase order again?”

“Jimin, what supplier did you use for your banner?”

“Jimin-”

“Jimin!”

You knew you knew just as much as he did, if not more. You’d been here longer. You just weren’t as... all that. Didn’t have the sparkle or the smirk. Fine, you weren’t glamorous but this job wasn’t supposed to be about style. You got the work done and you did it without fanfare because you weren’t desperate for attention and praise.

Unlike some people.

“Guess who got the promotion,” you said on the phone to your best friend.

“Oh my god, is it you?! Did you get it?!?!?!?!!?”

“Nope.”

You ended the word with a hard pop and said no more. Wendy was quiet on the other end for a second.

“You didn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Then who did?”

“I’ll give you one fucking guess.”

“Not Jimin.”

“Of course it was Jimin!”

You had been all but assured the next open spot that came up. It was virtually guaranteed! Until Jimin swanned in and swiped it from within your claws.

“No fucking way.”

“Way.”

You got the promotion after that but it wasn’t a sweet victory. Forever, you would have to live with the fact that Jimin was promoted ahead of you. Even though he had less experience and had worked there less time. Even though all the managers encouraged you to apply. It left a permanently bitter taste in your mouth.

Then they had a shuffle of staff.

And you ended up on a project team with him.

JP: I’ve finished all the documents for this submission; please let me know what you think!

You’d have liked to tell him to go fuck himself. You’d have liked to open those documents and tear them to shreds, cover them in red tracked changes, and make him look like a fucking moron.

But you couldn’t do that because they were good. Perfect, in fact. You wouldn’t have changed a thing.

YN: look good to me.

You always gave him a passive-aggressive full-stop. You couldn’t be out and out rude to him, both because it was unprofessional but also because he didn’t deserve it. He was good at this job, it turned out. Didn’t have a head for data, but didn’t need one because his talents elsewhere were just as valuable.

You had begrudgingly traded some tasks with him when your team was first set-up (you gave him the worst ones, the ones you liked the least because you might have been forced to share but they hadn’t specified what) and you were too proud to admit that he was actually better at them. He had a much better eye for visuals; his external comms samples were always flashier and prettier and neater and more engaging than yours had been.

He had suggested a slightly different tracking method for your monitoring and you had had to pretend to have wifi troubles and leave the meeting to seethe for a minute.

He brought in snacks to the office when you had meetings scheduled and had the gall to remember that you didn’t really like chocolate.

He covered for you when you were ill without complaint and without any mistakes.

He started sitting next to you in the office so that you could talk about the project more easily.

He started sending you gifs and memes.

He started making cute, little jokes over private message when you were in meetings together.

You started, somehow, somewhen, you didn’t know why, growing fond of Jimin Park.

And now look where you were.

You were hurt that he didn’t tell you first. You were surprised. You were more than just work friends now, weren’t you? You had each other’s personal numbers! You spent time together outside of work (sometimes)! Didn’t that deserve a little confidence? He couldn’t have even mentioned that he was looking for work elsewhere?

“I haven’t forgiven you, you know,” you told him as he arrived at the office, taking the desk next to yours as he now always did.

“For what?”

“For leaving! And for not telling me!”

He laughed and, ordinarily, you’d have laughed at yourself along with him, but you didn’t feel like it today. You didn’t want to be laughed at. You wanted him to take your feelings seriously. You wanted him to apologise. You wanted him to not leave.

You spoke about it reasonably often, his leaving, his new job. How excited he was. How nervous. How weird it would be to not see each other every day.

You didn’t speak about how sad you really were that he was going. You didn’t speak about the sting of betrayal you still felt but didn’t want to investigate. You didn’t speak about how his quitting really, truly made you want to quit, too, even though you liked this job, even though you were (had been) happy there.

* * *

It came around all too quickly. Jimin’s last day. The office was packed because everyone wanted to see him off. Of course they did. Everyone loved Jimin.

Including you.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeeelloowwwwwwww! Which nobody can deny!”

No one had expected the unit director to be the life of the party and it was providing an excellent diversion from the sinking pit in your stomach. With every drink, the end drew nearer.

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t see Jimin ever again, but you wouldn’t see him as often. He would make new work friends. You would be replaced. There felt something so final about it all, this evening stretching as long and taut as you could make it.

So taut it might snap.

You were the last two in the pub. You used to sneak out early together after work drinks; head back to your place or his and eat chips in front of something you both talked over; took yourself to your exclusive club-house for two where you could gossip about the evening and who got too drunk and who was making eyes at whom.

But you didn’t want to leave tonight and Jimin was hosting so he couldn’t leave until the last guest did.

Or until the pub kicked you out after last call.

A bell rang.

“Last call!”

Fuck.

“Think that’s time, baby!” Jimin cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “My last day at work is officially over!”

You whined, too drunk to stop yourself. You knew you’d had one too many. Two too many. Perhaps the whole bottle of wine too many. But you had to keep drinking if you were staying at the pub, and you wanted to keep drinking so you’d stop feeling so weird and sad about this. You looked up at Jimin and he smiled back down at you.

God, he was pretty.

“Don’t go,” you said, lips pouting so hard they barely let the words out.

Jimin laughed again.

“Back to my place, then? Your favourite chippy is on the way!”

“Absolutely!”

The relief that washed over you was almost strong enough to knock you over. There was still a little more time.

You squabbled at the chip shop. You could hardly remember why even as you were stepping out of it. It had turned the night just a touch sour. You didn’t want that. But you’d take that over the ending of it.

“What do you want to watch?” Jimin asked as you flopped, heavily onto his sofa, box of chips in hand.

You shrugged.

“Any genre you particularly fancy?”

“I literally don’t care,” you replied sharply.

You felt more than saw the look on Jimin’s face and chose to ignore it. He came to sit next to you on the sofa and you felt a little suffocated. He was too close. You could smell him. His shampoo? His laundry detergent? You’d never quite been able to pin down just exactly what it was that made him smell so nice; the opportunities you’d had to get that close to him just hadn’t been enough.

“Why do you smell so good?” you asked, though it sounded like an accusation.

Jimin laughed.

“I smell like a brewery and fryer oil!”

“No, you don’t! You always smell good!”

You were starting to hear it, how drunk you sounded, which, on the plus side, meant you were just starting to sober up.

“Thank you,” he replied, a little more tight-lipped than he might normally have been.

The conversation, if you could call it that, ended there. You watched the drama he had put on in silence, munching chips, and sipping water, and not talking. You were drunk and tired and had already said too many things you hadn’t meant to. You didn’t know about Jimin.

You watched one episode and then another and then another and just as Jimin’s TV was asking if you were still even there, Jimin turned it off.

“I’m calling it,” he said with a wide yawn. “I’m fucking tired.”

That was your cue to leave. You were also tired. Heavy with alcohol and lack of sleep. Blood viscous like molasses. You didn’t want to go.

“I don’t want to go.”

Jimin blinked. His lips twitched and you knew he was laughing at you. This was not the script the two of you usually followed. Then he shrugged, allowing the smirk to cover his mouth.

“Ok, then, stay.”

“I don’t want you to go. Don’t leave.”

He chuckled.

“Why would I leave? I live here!”

“Work!” you cried, stumbling as you put a tingling, dead foot on the ground, coming to a stand. “Don’t leave work!”

He groaned your name in a way you hadn’t heard before and it made your stomach flop.

“Don’t keep saying that. It’s too late; I’m going!”

“Don’t.”

“You going to miss me that badly?”

You just looked at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to confirm it. Yes. Yes, you were. Yes, you would. Yes, you missed him already. Missed him so much you wanted to pull him closer. Wanted to tangle your fingers in his hair. Wanted to-

Fuck.

You started, taking a small step back.

You wanted him.

To kiss him. To touch him. To see him. To know him. Not to be his work friend. Not to be his friend. To be his. His.

It hit you like a ton of bricks and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or throw up. Maybe both. You weren’t sure how much of it was down to the alcohol and how much to the emotional slap in the face you’d just given yourself.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jimin said, his eyes wide and cute, his smile a little rueful. “So much.”

You felt something. Something charged. The hairs on your neck pricked.

“How much?” you asked, voice escaping you in a whisper.

“So much that it makes me not want to go.”

You felt your eyes drawn to his, had no choice but to look him in his sweet face, his dark, swirling eyes glinting in the low lamplight. You couldn’t tear them away. Couldn’t move. Felt suspended in this second that stretched and stretched and stretched until it couldn’t stretch anymore.

“Ji-”

His name wasn’t out of your mouth before his lips were on it. Soft. Plush. Sweet with wine. His tongue swiped at your lower lip and you were eager to let him in, to taste him, to satisfy the hunger that had reared its ugly head, jaw gaping, teeth dripping, that must have been lying in wait, biding its time, hiding itself even from you.

There was no denying it now.

You didn’t talk as Jimin pulled you closer. Didn’t speak as he pulled your tucked-in T-shirt from the waistband of your jeans to slip his hands underneath. Didn’t make a sound when his fingers deftly picked at the clasp of your bra, instantly springing free, to allow his hands beneath that, too.

Could only just stop yourself moaning when his lips met the sensitive skin on your neck at the same moment as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t make a sound. The silence was so loud and you didn’t want to disturb it, even though what he was doing to you felt so good. Felt so unreal. You didn’t want the noise to puncture it, this bubble, this fantasy, this something that was happening that had been so unexpected even though it, now, felt like it had been a long time coming.

Then Jimin moaned. Removed his lips from your skin and opened his mouth, letting sound spill from it freely, almost wantonly, as he pulled you even closer. Close enough to feel him against you which set your knees trembling.

He looked at you, a little hesitation in his eyes, the hem of your top in his hands. You still couldn’t speak, just nodded, put your hands over his and pulled upwards. Watched in stunned silence when he unbuttoned his own shirt, let it fall to the floor.

It occurred to you then that you had never seen this Jimin before. Not just the kissing and the erection and the arousal pooling in your underwear. You hadn’t even seen him topless. Had never seen the fine trail of hair that dipped beneath his waistband. Had never known he had a tattoo across his ribs.

Never mind.

You’d have scoffed if you’d had half a mind about you. Never mind.

You were minding all this very, very much.

You reached out to touch him, pressing the pads of your fingers to his chest lightly, testing to make sure he was real. He was. Soft and smooth and rippling with goosebumps under your fingers.

“Fuck,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

“Yes, let’s,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You laughed, then laughed some more, shocked at your own surprise.

Fuck!

Fuck!!

Jimin’s mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. His hands, too, flying over your body, gripping here, pinching there, slipping inside your jeans, flicking the button open and dragging down the zip. You retaliated, pushing his undone trousers to the floor, pushing your hand into his boxers, encircling his hot, hard cock with your fingers. The wobbly whine that trembled out of him made your core clench.

“Jimin,” you said, breathlessly, calling his attention to your face.

He held your gaze there for a second, a second or two or three—his hand groping at your backside, yours around his shaft—and then you didn’t need to say anymore. He was grabbing at your jeans and your underwear, pushing them down your legs, pushing you onto the sofa, kissing at your face and your jaw and your neck, all the way down, to your breasts to your navel to the crease of your hips and further.

You couldn’t have been silent, even if you’d still wanted to be. The wet muscle of his tongue laved over you, all over you, exploring, familiarising, teasing until you were grabbing at his hair, nails scraping his scalp.

“Jimin!”

You wanted to shout, to demand, but you only gasped, only whined, your breath taken from you as his lips closed around your clit. Still, it seemed he’d got the message.

You writhed beneath him as he sucked, as his fingers slipped easily inside you, curling against you insistently while his tongue flicked over your swollen bud, as his lips sucked, as you bucked and twisted and spasmed beneath him. You could have said it was too much, this was too much, but it was Jimin, and suddenly ‘too much’ seemed impossible. You’d have died under him. You’d have let him go forever. As long as he liked. Though you were twitching and squirming and your legs clamped around his head, he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until you were screaming from one orgasm to another, gushing over his hand, being lapped up into his mouth. Until you were seeing stars. Until your breath barely came in, went panting out in sharp staccato gasps. Until he pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, mouth wet and shiny, and sat back on his heels.

“Fuck,” he said and his voice was tight, hoarse, sounded strained.

Strained like his boxers, still covering him if only barely. He palmed at them, eyelids fluttering, head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he said again as he brought his face back down to you, as he scattered kisses across your torso. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long.”

The words didn’t register, didn’t hit, because his lips were still moving against you, his hands brushing up your sides and over your breasts, cupping them up to his mouth so he could lick over your pebbled nipples, suck them into his mouth one at a time. You were dazed.

But not done.

“Jimin, please.”

“Please what?” he returned, teeth grazing lightly over the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet against your shivering skin.

“Please fuck me. Please.”

He grinned, the glitter in his eyes turning wicked.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long, too.”

He abandoned you, briefly, supine on the sofa, as he at last shucked off his underwear and fumbled in his wallet for the condom that was closest to hand.

He knelt back over you and you felt him at your entrance, one hand holding him there and the other pulling at your thigh, positioning you where he wanted you, how he wanted you.

He could have you however. As long as he had you.

“Ready?” he asked, as if he had to. As if you weren’t already tipping your hips trying to capture him, as if your walls weren’t fluttering already, as if you hadn’t made a great mess of his sofa cushions.

“Yes.”

You groaned in unison as he slowly pushed into you. You hadn’t expected him to feel this big, stretching you as you squeezed him, as he continued to push until he was fully seated, settled inside you, all the way in.

He lowered himself onto his elbows, nudged your nose with his, kissed you. Slow and deep, his body unmoving. You wondered what was stopping him, tilted your hips a little, wrapped your legs around him, clenched tight until he shuddered with a gasped laugh.

“If you don’t want me to come like, immediately, you’re going to have to stop that.”

You laughed back, in disbelief, still not really experiencing this as the Real Deal, still convinced this might be a dream. That Jimin was fucking you—was not fucking you right now because he needed a second to gather himself, a second to keep it together so he could fuck you.

You relaxed yourself as much as you could, stroked his hair, flicked his earlobe with your tongue and bit down lightly on the soft flesh. Let your mouth explore where it could reach.

“Jimin,” you whined, when he still hadn’t moved. “Please.”

He didn’t reply; his face was tucked into your neck and you could feel his heavy breathing there. You were two seconds from begging again when he finally moved. He dragged backwards, slowly, and shot forward, fast and hard. Then he did it again. And again. His hips moved fluidly; his arms caged you in securely; his lips sucked soft against your skin.

He had worried it would be quick, but you were sure time was slowing down. It was stretching itself over this moment so that it lasted forever, so that each time Jimin slammed his hips against yours, it took an age; every kiss lasted an hour; every gasp became a long, drawn-out sigh. This wasn’t quick; it was eternal. It was elemental.

It brought you into your body in a way that made you feel more than human. That made you feel animal. That made you feel pure and unshackled and unburdened. That made you feel free. Free because all you had to pursue was pleasure. All you had to concern yourself with was your body and his and the way they came together. There was no time, no loss, no rush, no ending, nothing to spoil the sanctity of this coupling.

It wasn’t always like this. You’d been around the block enough to know that this could have ended differently. On another night, you might have been lying on someone else’s sofa, waiting for it to end because you were simply bored now, because they had been all talk and no trousers, because they weren’t doing it right and you couldn’t be bothered to correct them.

Jimin didn’t need correcting. He was, as ever, a fucking overachiever. His girth pushed against your g-spot with every thrust and his length made each drag deep and lasting. You wondered if there was anything he couldn’t do.

Then he pushed himself up onto one hand and used his free hand to push low on your abdomen as he continued to piston against you. The gasp it stole from you was choked and you felt your legs twitch, tighten, pull close as the rest of your body collapsed inward, too. He reached his thumb down, pressed it against your clit and let the snap of his hips move you, just slightly, just enough that it was teasing again, that you could feel him in a way that suddenly was not quite enough. Was maddening.

“Jimin,” you keened, sweat dripping down your spine as your back arched from the sofa.

“Say it again.”

“Jimin.”

“Again.”

“Fuck, Jimin.”

He growled, deep in his throat, and your hips jerked as he pressed his thumb harder against you, swirled it in circles, rough and quick until you were coming again, gasping, squirming, clawing at his arms, your back threatening to snap in two. He kept his teeth clenched as he fucked you through it, as he pushed through the tight spasms of your cunt, as he fought to last until the end, until your body flopped, spent and lead-heavy into the cushions.

Only then did he let go, did he give a final few thrusts, did he moan loud and long as he came.

He flopped beside you on the sofa and you lay there, breathing heavily in a silence that felt light. You felt his lips press at your clavicle, his fingers then tracing the same spot. Then his lips again.

“What?” you asked.

“You’ve got a little mole here,” he murmured, still directing most of his attention towards it. “I haven’t noticed before... I like it.”

You hummed, satisfied, heart secretly thrilling. You let him kiss you, back and across the straight line of collar bone, flicking his tongue over your mole. What dedicated attention you hadn’t had for such a long time.

You could feel your eyelids droop, felt as though maybe you should clear some things up before you passed out; you weren’t sure you’d make it that far. Then Jimin spoke, cutting through that drunken, post-coital haze.

“Never shit where you eat.”

“What?”

He looked at you.

“Never shit where you eat. I don’t fuck coworkers.”

Reality came crashing in on you like a tsunami.

You were coworkers. No, you had been coworkers. You weren’t anymore, because Jimin was leaving. Had left. Had worked his last day, celebrated in the pub, and then fucked you into the sofa. Had fucked his former coworker. You.

“So you’re saying, all this time...?”

He shrugged.

“Not necessarily all this time. But yeah... You?”

You shrugged back.

“Literally wasn’t aware of it until tonight. Until you were trying to get me to leave.”

He laughed breathlessly.

“I wasn’t trying to get you to leave. I was trying to get you into bed.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”

He laughed again, full-throated this time.

“We fucked, didn’t we?”

“On the sofa.”

He swatted your arm playfully.

“Technicality. I still say it counts.”

“That’s the sort of carelessness and lack of attention to detail that’ll get you fired, y’know?”

“Oh, you’re firing me?”

“Perhaps I am.”

“Wow, fired on my first day. My parents will be so disappointed in me.”

“First day?”

You looked up at Jimin, heart racing wildly. None of this had been expected; none of this was sinking in. Did a first day necessarily imply a second? A third? More?

“First of many... If you want.”

You did want. You nodded.

“Great,” he said softly, gently pressing his lips to yours. “We’ll have a meeting in the morning to discuss my probation.”

“A meeting? Nah, this could be an email.”

196 notes View Post

jmscaffeine

1 year ago

127 notes View Post

jmscaffeine

2 years ago

☆🦇🚬💋🐈‍⬛

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jmscaffeine

1 month ago

Bad Decisions

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: biker au, secret relationship, pfp filth

summary: by day, jeongguk is the youngest heir of the noble seven—untouchable, lethal, and born into power. by night, he’s the ghost on a matte black Husqvarna, tearing through city streets with recklessness only royalty can afford. but there’s one thing he can’t control: you. the girl he’s been sneaking around with in stolen hours and secret places. when a high stakes race throws you back into his path, a charged game of cat and mouse ignites—your biting words matched only by the heat in his stare.

later that night, you find yourself exactly where you swore you shouldn’t be—underneath him, breathless and begging for more. but what starts as a heady, sweat slicked surrender spirals into something neither of you expect. in the quiet between moans and the hush that follows release, something shifts. words are whispered that neither of you can take back.

warnings: motorcycle racing jeongguk, role playing? you act like strangers in public, light bdsm, bondage, blindfold, cumming lots of cumming, breeding kink? jeongguk loves filling you up (wrap it up kids), boob job, jeongguk calls you princess 🫠 (i’m weak for it SUE ME), anal sex, soft dom weak for his princess jeongguk, fingering, they’re just a freaky ass couple who’re obsessed with each other

word count: 5,903

Introducing: The Consequences

The first time you see Jeongguk is at a street race near the east side of town, where the Reapers’ territory bleeds into the Titans’ stretch of concrete

Neutral ground. Or at least, that’s what everyone pretends it is.

It’s not the best place to be after dark—but not the worst either. That’s the thing about the city. Whether you’re in a luxury high rise or posted on the block, you keep your head on a swivel. No exceptions.

Jeongguk rolls in on a black and chrome Kawasaki Ninja H2 Carbon, the engine purring like a predator with too much money and nowhere to be. The bike looks custom, vicious. So does he. His black leather jacket clings to his frame like it was stitched directly onto his body. One you’ve heard about in rumors passed between girls with loose lips and tighter jeans.

Flanking him are the rest of the Noble Seven. Heirs of the seven families who run the country from behind velvet curtains and bloodstained ledgers.

“My god,” Keira breathes, her voice low and reverent. “It’s like the universe said, ‘Hmm, what would sex on legs look like?’ and dropped them here just to fuck with us.”

You laugh. It’s such a Keira thing to say.

But she’s not wrong.

“Hey.” Pierce’s voice cuts through your amusement like a whip, authoritative. You and Keira both stiffen as he approaches, already pulling his helmet on. “Don’t go far. And don’t talk to anyone.”

You fake a gag, just in time to catch him yanking Keira toward him by the belt loop of her jeans.

“Good luck kiss?” he grins at her. You roll your eyes and tune them out, shifting your attention back to the growing crowd of riders and onlookers. It’s the first night out you’ve had in weeks.

The shop’s been busier than ever with the warm weather—more cash in your pockets, sure, but less time to enjoy it.

A cold rush skims up your spine.

Someone’s watching you.

You scan the crowd from beneath your lashes, discreet but alert. You’re not in the mood for a fight tonight.

Your breath falters in your chest when you find the source.

Jeongguk’s gaze locks with yours; dark, curious, and far too direct for comfort. His eyes glitter like onyx under the flickering neon lights. He says something low to the man beside him without breaking eye contact. Park Jimin follows his line of sight and smirks, slow and dangerous.

Nope.

You whip your head away.

Pierce said don’t talk to anyone. You’re pretty sure that includes body language.

“Come on,” Keira says, tugging your arm. “Let’s grab drinks and find seats before the race starts. You should flirt with Baekhyun—he’ll let us watch the drone footage.”

“We can just stream it on our phones,” you grumble, trying not to trip as she drags you along “And Baekhyun’s like a brother. That’s weird.”

“Ugh. Everyone is like a brother to you. When are you gonna stop friend zoning dick and swallow some?”

“Hyunwoo wasn’t like a brother.”

Keira side eyes you, tongue sliding over her teeth. “No…no he was not.” You both dissolve into giggles as you join the line at concessions.

—

The second time you see Jeongguk, it’s through the grainy feed of Baekhyun’s drone—high above the treacherous backroads of Howlers Mountain, where one wrong move means a broken body or worse.

You’re sitting on the roof of the camper, knees pulled to your chest, drink sweating in your hand. Keira’s next to you, vibrating with adrenaline.

“Who the hell takes a curve at that angle?” she yells, nearly spilling tequila down your jeans.

“Apparently, Jeon fucking Jeongguk,” Baekhyun mutters from his monitor below.

The camera pans to a blur of black gear, tires screaming around a cliffside, the rider leaning in like he’s bulletproof. Your breath catches as gravel spits from his rear tire—he’s inches from the edge.

You hate how your chest clenches.

Hate more the thrill that curls in your belly.

He’s reckless.

Stupid.

Beautiful.

And completely in control.

“He’s okay,” you say quickly, pointing at the screen as the rider regains balance. “He’s okay.”

Your own cocktail sloshes over the rim of your cup, ice rattling.

“Keep it down, ladies,” Baekhyun mutters from behind his controller. “I’m working.”

“Sorry, Bacon!” you and Keira chorus, teasing him in sync. He groans like he regrets inviting you, which only makes you laugh harder.

Your attention drifts back to the sleek shadow slicing through the mountain pass—black bike, black gear. Jeongguk.

“Let’s go, silver surfer!” Keira yells as Pierce takes the lead, cutting past Jeongguk in a clean maneuver.

You glance at the route map—tight turn coming up. That’s usually where the race is won or lost.

Pierce surges ahead, dressed in head to toe white like a declaration of war. It’s too on the nose. Too symbolic. But your brother loves a metaphor.

Your heart skips when another rider, Marcus, skids out, bike sliding across the asphalt with a sharp screech. He tumbles, helmet shattering as the other riders swerve to avoid him.

“Fuck, that was close,” Baekhyun breathes.

You’re already out the door, feet pounding the steps of the camper, Keira hot on your heels as the thunder of engines rushes toward the finish line.

Jeongguk crosses first.

Pierce is a breath behind him.

The crowd goes feral.

Jeongguk revs his engine, slowing just enough to pull up directly in front of you. The way he swings off the bike is criminal—helmet in one hand, jacket clinging to his chest like a second skin. His eyes rake up your body: chunky heels, cargos, crop top. He doesn’t even pretend to be subtle about your chest.

“Now this is a first place trophy,” he says over his shoulder to Jimin, who’s lounging nearby with his helmet under his arm.

You scoff. Loudly.

“Even if winners did get trophies, it definitely wouldn’t be me.”

Keira tugs your sleeve, whispering not to antagonize a member of the Noble Seven. You couldn’t care less. Arrogance doesn’t look good on anyone—even if he wears it well.

Jeongguk laughs, the sound warm and rich, but edged with something colder.

He plants his helmet on the seat, closing the distance between you in two strides. His frame is massive up close, all sculpted muscle and quiet dominance.

He smells like leather and bergamot, and the scent wraps around your senses before you can brace against it.

“And what kind of winner do I have to be,” he murmurs, “to win you?”

His voice curls around your spine like a promise or a threat. Maybe both.

You meet his gaze evenly, only your lip caught between your teeth betraying the flutter in your chest. You lean in, just enough that your breath ghosts over his lips. You hear him inhale.

Good.

Two can play this game.

“I’m not won, Jeon,” you whisper, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. “I’m earned.”

Then you step back, grab Keira’s hand, and vanish into the crowd.

His laughter follows you like smoke.

“I know you’ve heard the rumors,” he calls after you. “That I don’t like to lose.”

You pause but don’t turn. You don’t have to.

“I’ll admit it. I’m a bit of a sore loser.”

His tone shifts—silken, dangerous.

“Just know whatever they told you about me? Lies,” he says, the crowd swallowing him in a sea of noise and flashing lights. “I’m much worse.”

Your skin prickles. Your breath catches.

You keep walking.

Hopefully, your little show doesn’t bite you in the ass later.

“Damn,” Keira whistles beside you. “He’s definitely not like a brother.”

You squeeze her hand tighter. “Is he still looking?”

“He’s doing more than looking, sister friend.”

— — — — —

The door slams shut behind you.

In an instant, Jeongguk has you pinned—his palm wrapped around your throat, pressing you flat to the wood like he owns you. His other hand works between your thighs, fingers curling deep inside your dripping pussy with unrelenting rhythm.

Your legs tremble as your slick soaks through ruined lace. His knee knocks yours apart, kicking your cargos across the hallway.

“You said I have to earn you, huh, princess?”

Words escape you. Your tongue feels swollen and useless, lolling helplessly against your lips as your mouth parts in silent cries.

His fingers find your g-spot, hook into it like he’s done this a thousand times, and your body convulses. The edge of your orgasm looms, sharp and sudden, white-hot pressure blooming behind your eyes.

“Answer me.” His voice is a growl against your ear, his body the only thing keeping you upright.

“J-Jeongguk—I’m gonna—please—”

His fingers don’t relent. If anything, they move faster. The obscene sound of your arousal fills the air, each wet squelch making your cheeks flush. You clench desperately around his hand, right there on the edge—

Then nothing.

He pulls out.

Your orgasm evaporates into a scream of frustration, your nails dragging down the door. Tears spring to your eyes as the emptiness between your legs throbs violently.

“Fuck!” you cry out.

Jeongguk lifts his slick-covered fingers to his mouth, moaning shamelessly as he licks them clean. His hand tightens around your throat, thumb stroking the column of your neck as he forces you to watch.

“Did you really think you could get away with saying that shit to me?” His voice is low, deadly, nearly amused.

You shake your head, lips trembling. He leans in, his lips grazing your ear.

“Use your fucking words. Or I’ll play with this pussy until the sun comes up. Is that what you want?”

“No—no! Please, let me cum, baby—please.”

His lips crash into yours, swallowing your plea. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your pussy clench in need, your whole body arching for more.

He breaks the kiss with a dark chuckle. “Did you have fun teasing me, princess? Standing there in front of everyone, looking like my own personal goddess? Thinking I wouldn’t make you pay for it?”

“I wasn’t—!” you gasp, but your protest dies on your tongue when his thumb circles your clit, rough and fast.

You writhe, your legs locking around his hips, chasing any sensation that’ll give you what he keeps stealing.

“You’re a horrible fucking liar,” he snarls. He yanks your panties aside and plunges his fingers back into your soaked heat. “Let’s try again. Be a good girl. Tell the truth. Now.”

“Y-Yes—I did, I was teasing,” you gasp, shame and need tangling in your throat. “Gguk, please—!”

“Such a bad girl,” he tsks. “Teasing me in front of Keira, in front of your brother? It’d be wrong of me to bend you over my bike and fuck the attitude out of you, wouldn’t it?”

You moan, head rolling back as his fingers fuck you ruthlessly. You’re so close it feels like dying.

“Gguk…”

“What? You wanna cum?” he mocks, voice syrupy with false sympathy. “My baby wants me to let her cum?”

You nod frantically, lips parted, mind unraveling.

He grins.

And then he wrecks you.

His thumb finds your clit again, and the combination sends lightning through your veins. Your orgasm builds like a storm surge, fast and furious, until it’s the only thing you can feel.

“Okay,” he murmurs, “I’ll make you cum, princess. And then I’ll keep going—until you remember who you belong to.”

When it hits, it devastates you.

You scream his name as your orgasm slams through your body, collapsing every muscle with it. Your vision whites out, your walls fluttering around his fingers, spasming again and again as tears pour down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it—past it—ruthless, merciless. His hand tightens around your throat, not enough to hurt but enough to make your lungs burn, and the overstimulation mutates into a new kind of hunger.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he growls against your cheek, “looking all innocent in front of Keira and your brother. But we both know better, don’t we, pretty girl?”

“Jeongguk—!”

“You love it.” His voice is hoarse with desire. “Getting all stupid on my fingers, going cock drunk before I even fuck you. I should make you cum again just like this.”

You claw at him, your thighs trembling as you try to pull away, but he catches your waist and holds you still.

“Fuck, baby—you want me to cum in my pants?” he groans, rutting into your thigh. “Shit, you’re dripping down my wrist.”

“N-No—I—I want you in me,” you whimper.

He inhales sharply, and it’s all over.

He drags you to the living room, drops onto the couch, and pulls you into his lap like he can’t bear to wait another second.

“Can I fuck you now? Please, baby—I need to feel you.” His hands are trembling as he unbuckles his belt, pushing his pants down enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, leaking.

You fall to your knees, hungry.

“Need to suck your dick,” you pant, reaching for him.

But Jeongguk grabs your wrists. “Not now,” he growls. “Need you riding me.”

His eyes burn into yours as he tears your panties from your body, lips parted in awe as he stares at your soaked, puffy folds.

“Come here, princess. Sit on my cock.”

You straddle him, guiding the thick head of his dick to your entrance. You both gasp when he slips in, walls stretching to accommodate him.

“So wet… ‘m gonna cum just from you sitting on me.”

You whimper as you sink down, inch by inch, until he’s seated fully inside you.

“F-fuck,” he hisses. “Love your pussy, princess.”

He cups your breasts, pulling your bandeau down with a groan. Your nipples are hard, begging to be tasted. He wraps his mouth around one, tongue flicking while his other hand kneads the other breast.

You ride him slowly, grinding your hips in lazy circles that drive him mad.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, switching to the other nipple, suckling greedily. “Wanna live right here forever. Just like this.”

You start to move faster, hips bouncing, skin clapping against skin. His cock hits deep with every drop, the stretch addictive.

“I’m close,” you pant.

“I know, baby—I feel it. Fuck—you’re squeezing me so good.”

He grips your hips and thrusts up into you, punching into your cervix with brutal precision. Your orgasm builds fast and hot.

“Harder!” you beg. “Please, Jeongguk—harder!”

He slams into you, over and over, and suddenly he’s everywhere—his mouth on your tits, his hands bruising your waist, his cock claiming every inch of you.

You scream when you cum again, whole body shaking as you collapse into him, trembling in his arms.

But he’s not done.

He lifts you and flips you onto the couch. “No—please, Gguk, I can’t—”

“You can,” he croons, lining himself up again. “You will.”

He thrusts into your overstimulated cunt and sets a ruthless pace, eyes wild as he watches your eyes roll back.

“So wet, so fucking warm—shit! Gonna fill you up, okay? Gonna fuck you right, princess.”

You cry out, clawing at the cushions, unable to form words anymore. Just please and more and don’t stop on loop.

His rhythm stutters. His face contorts in pleasure. He shoves in deep, holding you down as he empties inside you with a broken groan.

His cum floods your walls, thick and hot, and it makes you moan again, your legs twitching around his waist.

He leans in, kissing your lips softly now. Passionately. Worshipful.

“You’re mine, baby,” he breathes, brushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead. “All mine.”

And in the wreckage of your shared desire, you believe it.

Feel it in your bones.

—

You find yourself in Jeongguk’s bedroom, sprawled across 800 thread count Egyptian cotton. The sheets are cool against your flushed skin, a poor remedy for the heat coursing through you—made worse by the steady chill of the air conditioning he always insists on.

Your vision is cloaked in black silk, blindfolded and vulnerable beneath the weight of his desires. Every creak of the bed frame, every shift in the air feels magnified, your heartbeat pounding in your ears like a warning—or a promise.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head, princess?”

His voice cuts through the silence like velvet over steel, coming from your right. You gasp, your body tightening reflexively around the sound.

A whimper escapes you, helpless and raw. After making you cum on the couch downstairs, Jeongguk had carried you upstairs over his shoulder—his toned ass on display the whole way—then bound your wrists to the bedposts with soft cotton rope.

Now you lie there, spread open, waiting.

“Gguk…”

You strain to hear, to locate him. But there are no footsteps, no shifting weight. Just a vast, mysterious silence.

It used to terrify you, this surrender of control. When Jeongguk first introduced you to the world of blindfolds and bondage, the loss of sight had been a seismic jolt to your nerves. But with time—and with him—you learned to trust. And Jeongguk? He always took care of you.

Your body flinches when something cool and leather trails up your thigh. A heartbeat later, the riding crop slices through the air and lands on your skin with a sharp crack.

“Ahh—”

The sound that spills from your lips is more moan than cry, your body arching in response. You’re trembling, sensitive and aroused, a lit fuse waiting to be touched.

“I asked you a question,” he murmurs, his voice brushing your cheek like a phantom kiss. “You know I don’t like repeating myself.”

You chase the heat of his breath, desperate for a kiss, a graze, anything—but he withholds, as always.

“I was thinking…” You’re panting now, your breath catching in your throat. “Thinking about you… and this.”

Even now, you’re bashful—unable to shake the taboo feeling, even with how deeply you’ve fallen into his world. Kinks, bondage, the blurred lines of pleasure and pain. You crave them, but speaking them aloud still feels like standing naked before a crowd.

He hums low in his throat. The riding crop returns, this time ghosting over your chest. Your nipples stiffen instantly, and you jolt when he flicks them with the tip.

“Do you want to stop?”

His tone changes—no more teasing or dominance, only calm and care. Sincere. He always checks in. Always offers an out.

This is about trust first. Pleasure second. Always.

You shake your head vigorously, the blindfold shifting slightly with the motion. “No. Please… don’t stop.”

Another sharp crack. You jolt, the pleasure bursting through you like sparks.

“Then use your words, princess. Why am I repeating myself so much tonight?”

You cry out again when the crop strikes your swollen clit, sticky with need. Strings of your arousal stretch and snap with every motion.

“N-No. Please, please don’t stop.”

He blows lightly against your exposed cunt, the breeze making you squirm.

“Maybe I should tease you until sunrise. You’ve had your fun, haven’t you? Now it’s my turn.”

“Gguk… please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for—release or denial, more pain or mercy. All of it. None of it. Just him.

“Always begging. Always wanting. What about me, princess?”

You’d give him anything if he asked. The moon. Your soul. His name, carved into your skin.

The bed dips near your legs. Jeongguk straddles you, his thighs bracketing your own. His heat is molten, almost unbearable. You feel him shift again near your head, then—

A hot, wet tongue swipes across your nipple.

You choke on a gasp. Your body, already oversensitive from the teasing, lights up like a live wire. He sucks and bites, lavishing attention on your breasts until you’re nothing but tremors and whimpers.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he groans, voice strained.

He sits up, sliding forward until he’s perched just above your ribcage. He presses your breasts together, thumbs circling your aching nipples while one hand reaches back to dip between your thighs.

You cry out at the sensation, hips jerking instinctively. But he doesn’t fuck you. He just strokes your folds, coating his fingers in your slick.

You hear him groan. Then he grabs his cock, stroking himself with a hiss, smearing your arousal over his length.

“Gonna cum all over these pretty tits, okay, princess?”

You feel the weight of him settle on your chest, the head of his cock dragging along your sternum. Your mouth waters. You still haven’t tasted him yet—and he knows it.

“What’s your color?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.”

He begins to move, sliding his cock between your breasts. You tilt your head down to flick your tongue over the tip whenever it emerges from your cleavage.

“Oh fuck, baby. Keep doing that—shit,” he grits out, his rhythm faltering for a moment as your tongue teases him.

Your clit throbs, aching for attention, but even this—just his cock, your tongue, his voice—is enough to have you teetering on the edge.

“Fuck, your tits are so soft. So perfect. Fuck—”

You moan, drunk on the way he uses your body for his pleasure. Drunk on him.

“I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum, princess.”

You whimper, tongue flicking greedily. His grip tightens, his pace quickens, until—

“Shit, shit, I’m cumming—”

He groans deeply, cock jerking as hot ropes of cum spill across your chest, painting your skin in thick streaks. You feel one hand release your tits, fingers dragging through the mess before they press against your lips.

“Open.”

Your mouth falls open instinctively, tongue rolling out to receive the offered gift. He lets the cum drip onto your tongue, then slides his fingers into your mouth.

“What do we say when we get a treat?”

“Thank you,” you mumble, words slurred.

“Now swallow. Show me.”

You obey. His breath catches when you swallow around his fingers and reveal an empty mouth.

“Fuck. Now you want to behave, huh? What happened to the brat from the racetrack?”

You whimper, still aching. Your thighs press together in search of friction—but he notices. Of course he does.

A sharp slap lands on your pussy.

“Thought you could sneak one past me?” he growls. “Pretending to be a good girl? I guess I’ll have to edge the disobedience out of you.”

“Gguk—no, please! Please let me cum—need it so bad,” you sob, pride long since abandoned.

“I said shut up, fucking cumslut.”

He returns like a shadow, one hand wrapped around your throat, a knee wedging between your legs, grinding against your clit.

“Am I not enough for you? Don’t I give you everything you need?” he hisses, the slap of his hand against your soaked folds punctuating every word.

“Yes! Yes, you do! You’re all I need, Jeongguk—please, let me cum, I need to cum!”

He lets go of your throat. You gasp for breath, trembling with desperation.

But he’s already gone again, vanished into the quiet once more—leaving you writhing, needy, and dripping for him.

The ropes fall away from your wrists first, then your ankles, leaving behind a tingling sensation like ghost chains. You barely have a moment to breathe before his voice rumbles low and commanding.

“Turn over.”

You obey, the air cool against your sweat slicked skin as you roll onto your stomach. A firm grip on your wrists draws them behind your back once more—retied, restrained. The plush wedge that’s slid beneath your hips lifts you just so, ass perched high in the air, back arched in offering.

“Gguk, what are we—”

“Did I say you could speak?” His interruption slices through the dark like a blade. You bite down on your lip, choking back the moan that bubbles up your throat. Anticipation skitters down your spine like an electric current. You feel feral for him—need thrumming in every vein, your heart beating out a rhythm your body can’t ignore.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Need dick that badly, huh?” He’s behind you now, one hand gripping the swell of your ass while the other parts your cheeks, exposing your drenched folds and twitching hole to the cool air.

“Yours,” you pant. “Only want you.”

Jeongguk groans low, pleased and ravenous. He knows what you need before you ask for it. He always does.

“Yeah? My greedy little thing.” His thumb trails through your slick, spreading it up over your tight ring of muscle. “Wanna be stuffed so full you feel me in your throat, huh?”

You shiver, a hot sound escaping as he circles your ass slowly, deliberately. The sensation is thicker than lust—it’s something darker, deeper, something that roots itself in your bones and grows.

“You like that,” he murmurs, voice laced with twisted delight as he watches more slick drip from your pussy. “You’re such a filthy girl for me. My perfect, dirty little princess.”

And then—pressure.

His thumb presses against your rim, slow and unrelenting, until the tight muscle begins to yield. You tense instinctively, hips jerking, but his hand on your back steadies you.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, baby.” He coos it like a lullaby, breath hot against your skin. “You’re doing so well for me. My good girl. Just relax.”

You moan—long, low, and desperate—as the thick digit pushes deeper. The stretch is sharp but thrilling, your walls fluttering from the unfamiliar fullness.

“More?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Please,” you gasp, arching back against his hand like a woman possessed. “More, Gguk.”

“Color?”

“Green,” you cry. “Green, green—I need it, please.”

He hums, dark and approving, and slides his thumb deeper, moving it slowly in and out of your clenching hole. Your cunt throbs around nothing, your body begging to be filled in every way it can.

You hear the slick pop of a lid, then feel warm globs of lube land on your skin in lazy drips. He rubs them in, spreading the slickness around your rim, thumb teasing you open again and again. Your moans are breathy now, unfiltered, as the tight ring of muscle yields to him.

You can’t see him, but you can feel the shift in the air when he starts stroking himself—slow, wet sounds of lube-coated flesh against flesh. Your stomach flips.

The blunt head of his cock nudges your hole.

You tense.

“Gguk? Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice trembles, laced with hesitation.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says simply.

Your name on his lips lands like a weight in your chest—heavy, grounding. He means it. He always means it.

But you don’t want him to stop.

You trust him.

“N-No… don’t stop.”

His cock returns to your ass, head pressing in soft circles against your rim as one hand finds your pussy, fingers rubbing tight, rhythmic circles on your clit.

“That’s it, baby. Just breathe. Let me in, nice and slow. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you whisper, melting into his touch.

The pressure builds, and the head of his cock begins to push inside. It’s a slow burn, foreign and breathtaking, paired with the practiced strokes to your clit. He pushes forward inch by inch, and your body surrenders, clenching and fluttering around the intrusion.

“J-Jeongguk…” you whimper, already so full, so close.

He groans behind you, his voice strangled with restraint. “Fuck, princess… this ass is gonna ruin me.”

He stays still, letting you adjust, fingers never stopping their motion on your clit. Your walls begin to flutter—so close again. Your legs shake.

“‘M close… Gguk, I’m—” Your moan splinters as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, long and rolling, each ripple dragging another cry from your lips.

“Shit,” Jeongguk hisses. He’s not even fully inside and you’re already cumming for him.

Once your body stops shaking, he begins to move—slow, shallow thrusts, coaxing your ass to accept him inch by inch. The stretch remains, but now it hums with pleasure, building into something raw and addicting.

“Fuuuuck, baby. You’re perfect,” he groans, hands gripping your hips tight as he finally buries himself inside you.

Your whimpers turn into moans—real, needy ones—your body instinctively rocking back into him.

He moves with more confidence now, pace quickening, hips slapping against your ass with wet, sinful sounds. The wedge keeps you elevated, forcing you to take every inch. You’re trapped between his body and the bed, utterly at his mercy.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growls, one hand slipping beneath you to rub your clit again, hard and fast.

“I–Gguk—I think I’m gonna–!”

“Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby. Show me how much you love being ruined.”

You cry out, vision going white as your second orgasm tears through you, louder, sharper than the last. Your hole tightens around him, and Jeongguk curses violently.

“Fuckfuckfuck—princess!” He cums with a shout, cock pulsing inside you, hot ropes painting your insides, claiming you completely.

He doesn’t stop.

Even as his orgasm fades, he keeps moving—softer now, fucking you through the aftershocks. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles.

You keen softly, too sensitive to handle it, but too blissed out to push him away. Another orgasm builds—sharp and shocking—and then explodes across your body, leaving you limp and trembling.

When you finally slump forward, boneless and trembling, Jeongguk catches you with careful hands, easing your weight down onto the wedge. His touch is slow as he unties your wrists, his thumbs brushing over the faint, reddened grooves the rope left behind. He doesn’t speak yet—just presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, then to your temple, grounding you as your breath stutters its way back into rhythm.

The blindfold slips off next, and you blink slowly, vision adjusting to the dim golden light just in time to see his broad back retreating toward the ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll run us a bath,” he murmurs over his shoulder, voice low and warm. “You did so good for me, baby.”

There’s quiet pride in his tone, wrapped in something softer—adoration, maybe, or something frighteningly close to love. And before the water even starts to run, he’s back, tucking a warm blanket around your shoulders and cradling your face in his palms like he’s still worried he might’ve pushed too far.

“Let me take care of you now, yeah?” he says, gently brushing your damp hair from your face, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re mine to break—but you’re also mine to put back together.”

You hum, eyes fluttering closed once more.

Behind your lids, you still feel him—his warmth, his weight, his hands claiming you over and over again.

And in the corner of your blissed out mind, one thought curls up like a secret:

You’ll never belong to anyone else.

— — — — —

The water is warm and fragrant, infused with the scent of vanilla and brown sugar—your favorite combination. Jeongguk had started keeping your bath bombs stocked at his house without ever making a big deal out of it. The kind of quiet gesture that said more than his words ever could.

You’re nestled between his legs, back resting against the firm plane of his chest, your arms stretched lazily across his knees while his fingers trace idle circles beneath the surface. It’s peaceful here. Quiet. The kind of quiet that feels sacred.

Until he speaks.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The words pierce through the steam thick air and sink straight into your chest, rooting themselves like lead in your lungs.

Your body stiffens before you can stop it, muscles tensing where you lie against him. You blink at the candles dancing along the tiled wall, refusing to move, to breathe, to react—because if you don’t acknowledge it, maybe it won’t be real.

You always knew this day would come. That Jeongguk—beautiful, untouchable Jeongguk—would eventually grow tired of sneaking kisses and hidden nights. That he’d outgrow you, just like the others before you, and move on to his next fleeting thrill.

And maybe it hurt more because, somewhere along the way, you’d started to believe you were different.

But what could you say?

You were never his to keep.

“Princess?” His voice is gentle, testing, but you don’t trust yourself to answer. Your silence seems to worry him more than any argument might’ve, and when his arms shift around you, the water sloshes in protest. A wave spills over the porcelain lip of the tub, splattering onto the floor, unnoticed.

He turns you gently until you’re facing him, your chest brushing his with each uneven breath. His features are muddled—blurred by steam, or maybe the tears clinging to your lashes. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until his thumbs brushed under your eyes, wiping away water with more water.

“Why are you crying, baby—? Oh. No, no, no. Shit. That’s not what I meant.” He panics slightly, eyes wide and fingers fumbling like he’s trying to put you back together. “I didn’t mean us. That’s not what I… fuck. I’m not good at this shit.”

He’s rambling now, the way he always does when he’s trying to fix something that’s slipping through his fingers. He leans in to kiss your cheek, lips warm and soft and a little desperate, the way someone might kiss a bruise they didn’t mean to cause.

You see it in his face—adoration, guilt, sincerity. You used to think he was a mystery, impossible to figure out. But now? He might as well be an open book.

“I meant I don’t want to sneak around anymore,” he clarifies, voice softer now, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile.

You blink once. Twice. “What?” Your head tilts to the side, eyes wide, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. God, you were so fucking cute when you were confused.

He cups your cheeks in his hands, thumbs barely skimming your skin as he brings your face closer, so close your noses brush.

“I want to be with you,” he says simply. “You’re mine. No more hiding. No more pretending we’re strangers. I want to kiss you after a race in front of everyone. Even your brother.”

You wrinkle your nose in horror. “Ew. Why would you say that? That’s nasty.”

He chuckles, full and deep, his grin stretching across his face like sunshine breaking through a storm.

Your voice turns soft, almost childlike in its wonder. “You mean it?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t need to ask what you’re really searching for. He leans in and kisses you—slow and certain, like a promise written in ink instead of pencil.

“What’d I say, baby?” he murmurs against your lips. “Make bad decisions, you deal with the consequences. You’re stuck with me.”

You giggle, bright and unguarded, and tug him back in. “If this is my punishment, I’ll happily do the time for the crime.”

Jeongguk pulls away with a groan, throwing his head back in laughter. Wet strands of hair sling droplets across your face and neck, but you’re too busy watching him—really watching him—to care.

He sobers only slightly, eyes finding yours again with that same unshakable intensity. One hand slips behind your neck, holding you there as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“You’re so fucking cheesy, princess,” he whispers, brushing his nose against yours, “but I love it.”

You lean into him, fingers curling around his wrist, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re falling alone.

You feel like you’ve been caught.

masterlist

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jmscaffeine

1 month ago

kitty

when you're going through a rough heat, who else is there to call besides bunny hybrid jeon jungkook?

word count: 5.570

warning: hybrid au, dirty talking, bunny jungkook, cat reader, smut, submissive reader, dominant jungkook, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, heat, jk calls reader "kitty", nipple sucking, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, breeding kink,

like idk yall i seen this video and almost fell tf out so I was like why not do what i do best and make a fic

The first time you met Jungkook, you pondered if he was something else in his past life. Maybe a lion or tiger - a fearless wolf. As a bunny hybrid, he had little to none of the characteristics. The bunny hybrids you’d met were all full of fear and caution. Any little sound sets their fight or flight off - and it’s never truly fight. They were naturally terrified people, always shutting themselves away from those who were considered “predators”.

Jeon Jungkook was different. For a bunny hybrid, he lacked the fear of a hare. He often stood tall and firm, never cowering like his fellow bunny hybrids. When he spoke, he looked you in the eye - prey or predator. The only thing he had in common with them was his diet - consisting of various fruits and vegetables.

You were a cat hybrid. You wouldn’t consider yourself top of the predator hierarchy but you weren’t a prey. You - and those you associate with - share too many characteristics with that of a feline. You cannot fathom not sleeping the majority of the day and eating even when you aren’t hungry. You were often cranky and you didn’t enjoy unnecessary noise.

There were a lot of things you didn’t like and Jeon Jungkook was one of them. He was too hyper and energetic, often hopping around - even in his human form - and being a complete nuisance. You despised whenever you and he were forced to be around one another because that meant that you weren’t going to know any peace.

You recall when you first met Jungkook. “Sorry, Y/N can be a bit…grumpy.” Yuna murmured to Namjoon. She looked down at you in your cat form - a form you preferred to be in when you longed around lazily. Your back was arched and your ears were casted backwards, ready to attack.

And you were hissing right at Namjoon - but not at him. At Jungkook, the chocolate- colored bunny in his arms.

Yuna had warned you that her relationship with Namjoon was going great and he had even gone as far as to ask if she wanted to move in with him. She contemplated it - they’ve been together for a year already.

You, however, were a factor Yuna had to consider. Especially since Jungkook was around. Neither you or Jungkook were considered “pets” to Namjoon and Yuna; even if that was what it was “legally”. You’ve grown alongside Yuna, she is only a few human years older than you.

In a world where hybrids are sold to families as pets, you were placed into Yuna’s household by her grandfather. She still doesn’t know how her grandfather acquired a young feline hybrid, but you were always treated like a family member rather than a pet.

Now, years later, you enjoyed Yuna’s place. She had taken you along with her when she moved out instead of leaving you with her parents. The entire household already smelled of you - a scent Yuna couldn’t smell herself as a human - and you enjoyed everything to be exactly where you wanted it. There wasn’t anything in the household that you didn’t know where it was exactly.

One of the main reason why moving to Namjoon’s place would simply not work - so Yuna offered for Namjoon to move here.

Jungkook wasn’t considered a pet with Namjoon either and unlike you, Jungkook was a ray of sunshine. Yuna still tells the story of how when she first met Jungkook - in his bunny form - he had hoped right into her lap that she was so shocked that he was hybrid and so friendly. She still tells the story of when you “met” her first boyfriend - a boy from High School she had forgotten to tell you was coming over. You had attacked the poor boy so bad that he left not even 10 minutes later covered in scratches.

You, to this day, refused to see how you were wrong.

“You’re going to have to go to your room if you’re going to be hostile.” Yuna had said with a stern voice when you hissed at the bunny. Namjoon had put him onto the ground cautiously. “Why don’t we introduce you and Jungkook properly? You’ll probably like him better that way.”

Yuna knows your type and it was one of the reasons she suggested it. She was shocked herself at how something so cute could turn to a hot piece of ass - something she told Namjoon bashfully.

But of course, at that time, you were being stubborn. You clawed at Jungkook instead and that only prompted Yuna to yank you up and speed walk down the hall to your own bedroom. She was warm with embarrassment and she threw you onto your bed and immediately, you turned into your naked human self.

Yuna had seen you naked countless times that it doesn’t affect her - but she had told you with Namjoon moving in, you could no longer randomly go between cat and human forms. One of the many reasons why him and that hare shouldn’t be in your home.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Yuna hissed. “I told you-”

“I think he was sizing me up.” you interrupted, eyes staring straight back at hers. “Coming into here like he owns the place.”

Yuna knows you’re talking about Jungkook. You met Namjoon before and immediately liked him, expressing to her that she and him were perfect together.

“You do this all the time when there’s other hybrids involved. You’re so jealous-”

“Territorial.” you corrected. “And that hare stinks! How old is he even?”

Yuna rolled her eyes. “He’s younger than me and Namjoon but-”

“Ugh, I hate kids.” you rolled your eyes. “No wonder.”

It wasn’t a lie. You hated a lot of things and sometimes, Yuna couldn’t understand why she adored you so much. You just didn’t like people you weren’t accustomed to. Oftentimes, you’d sit at the window and hiss just because if you saw children - even if they weren’t doing anything worthy of being hissed at.

‘You must want me to die alone.” Yuna crossed her arms. “You always do this with every person I date that owns a hybrid.”

“We all die alone. Do you expect to be buried with anyone?” you deadpan, yet you pout a bit. You didn’t want Yuna to feel as though you didn’t care about her. It was that hare you didn’t care about - coming into your home and sniffling as if he owned the air.

“I just really like Namjoon, Y/N…”

Your ears perk at the way Yuna’s voice drops.

“FIne.” you exhaled. It hurted you to say that. “But keep that hare out of my stuff…”

Accepting Yuna and Namjoon’s relationship meant accepting Jungkook. You had locked yourself in your room the first week before you came out. You have yet to witness Jungkook in his human form and vice versa. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t around one another.

Jungkook was overbearing, hopping around in your space. It didn’t matter how much you hissed or swiped at him, he followed.

There were times in which you enjoyed your peace and it was as if Jungkook was determined to ruin it. A month into living with him - and still neither of you had presented to one another outside of your hybrid forms - you were sitting at the window seal. You were soaking up the sun, eyes closed and purring with satisfaction. Your tail wagged back and forth and - You’re suddenly caught off guard by the sudden pressure on your side, prompting you to fall onto the hardwood floor. You land on your feet, but immediately are being pushed onto your side by a familiar being.

Yuna watched lazily as you and Jungkook - as cat and rabbit - begin to fight. Typically, it began with Jungkook, who has always been smitten by you since day 1, climbing onto you.

Today he was feeling extra perverse and he’d begun to hump you - an action that had caused you to attack him entirely. Your claws dig into his fur to shield him off and you’d hiss. The action is funny to watch a bunny hump onto a cat - but knowing that it was just you and Jungkook made it even funnier.

Namjoon didn’t find it funny, however, and you hadn’t seen Jungkook for a week after that. He had apologized profusely about Jungkook’s behavior to you - both in cat form and while in human for when you had stumbled out early in the morning one night to sneak food.

The first time you saw Jungkook in his human form, you were in complete shock. You were home alone. Yuna was at work and Namjoon had visited his parents for the evening for dinner. You only assumed Jungkook went with him.

Wrong.

Witnessing a tall man in your home had sent alarm bells in your head. He had sat at the dinner table, munching on an array of celery and carrots. His nose had twitched in a way that appeared oddly familiar.

“Jung…kook?” you had asked, voice so meek. You were literally cat-like, Jungkook thinks. The way you were completely still, watching him with wide alert eyes.

“Y/N?” Jungkook tilted his head, his eyes growing wide with wonder, as well.

You, flustered, had run away. You had called Yuna and asked her why in the world she didn’t tell you that Jungkook looked like that. She had laughed gleefully, stating that finally you were going to come around once you saw just what the man looked like.

The sexual tension is excruciating.

Not just for you and Jungkook, but for Yuna and Namjoon.

Jungkook hadn’t made it a secret that he found you attractive. He followed you around oftentimes when at home, no matter how bitchy you were.

Namjoon has always been attentive when it comes to Jungkook ruts. He had no problem with allowing Jungkook to do what he wanted - deal with it alone or have someone help him. But this wasn’t just his home anymore, so for Jungkook’s rut he had gotten him a hotel room that specializes in ruts and heats.

Against Jungkook’s best wishes to ask you to help him. He was upset and Namjoon had to drag him out of the home - but he wasn’t going to allow him to make you anymore uncomfortable.

Jungkook had gotten another cat hybrid to help him after nearly 45 minutes of searching.

Namjoon doesn’t believe Yuna when she tells him that you are just as infatuated with Jungkook as he is with you. You, however, are just bitchy. Simple. You would never admit that you find him attractive - but Yuna sometimes would find you sitting on the window seal in cat form watching as Jungkook works out outside. Or how when you all eat dinner together, your pupils would grow big watching Jungkook.

This is how Yuna finds you one weekend. You’re in distress and Yuna can hear you. She finds your small cat body on your bed, meowing. Your meow is so soft and laced with such need and yearning that she instantly knows what’s wrong.

“You’re in heat.” Yuna strokes a finger on your head, a giggle in her voice.

If you were in your normal state, you would’ve bit her for teasing you. But you’re in heat and thus, highly horny.

“Do you want me to ask Jungkook?”

That is not what you wanted at all. You didn’t want to see Jungkook’s naked body hovering above yours, those dark eyes staring intently at you as he fucks-

“Oh fuck.” you say, your naked body now against your bed. You roll around and scream into the sheets.

“You so want Jungkook.” Yuna squeals. She’s already texting Namjoon, stating that for the weekend, the both of them would need to book a hotel. You could have the home and be comfortable to enjoy your heat.

With Jungkook.

No interruptions.

“I…I can’t.” you murmur, clenching your thighs together. Everytime you think about it, it just causes your core to throb more and more.

“Why can’t you?” Yuna questions. “You want Jungkook. Jungkook wants you. You’re in heat so of course he’ll fuck the shit out of you-”

You groan - more like moan needily.

Yuna is gone within an hour and leaves you and Jungkook alone.

You’re determined, though. You aren’t going to fall into temptation.

Jungkook never makes anything easier for you, either.

You’re at the counter, cutting into your steak when you sense Jungkook behind you. Though Yuna nor Namjoon had told him why they were leaving for the weekend, he could sense something was different in the air.

Jungkook had watched you leave your room from down the hall and immediately noticed the sway in your hips. You smell different, too. More sweeter.

“Y/N.”

You don’t stop cutting into your steak, but your thighs do clench at the sound of Jungkook’s deep voice.

“Jungkook.” you respond.

Jungkook’s ear perks. Your voice is different; low in tone and a bit…breathy?

Jungkook licks his lips.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

You snort. “What movie?” you place your cut steak into a bowl and slowly turn around. You didn’t want to face him, but you had to.

Jungkook’s wearing grey sweatpants - red flag number one. They’re dangerously low around his waist. His tank top is tight and you’re positive that he had worked out earlier today.

“Whatever you want to watch, baby.” Jungkook licks his lips, tilting his head at you.

Red flag number two. Your stomach churns at the sight and immediately, your eyes flicker away. You clench the bowl in your hands. “I-I guess.”

You were in heat, it’s more obvious now.

Jungkook enjoys your banter. He adores the way you’d hiss at him with those hard eyes. You’d insult him and everything he loves - but that only turns Jungkook on.

Now, however, you were being - dare he say - submissive. You were nervous, your body warm. You’re shy and not meeting his eyes and you hadn’t stopped clenching your legs since you and he stepped into his bedroom. In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t have come to his room to watch any movie, but you did today.

You also hadn’t stopped trembling as you ate your steak.

You picked a random movie and sat on his bed, furthest away from Jungkook. You had nervously finished your steak and were watching the movie, but couldn’t focus on it. Your mind is occupied with the smell in Jungkook’s room; ivory and clean. It smelt so much like him that it was driving you crazy.

“You’ve been still for nearly 45 minutes now.”

Your head snaps to the sound of Jungkook’s voice and you swallow thickly. Your pupils, Jungkook notices, are large and round. He admires that just as he does when you’re in cat form.

“Is everything alright, kitty?”

Jungkook’s lip twitches upward. He’s smirking right at you - he knows. He can smell the sweet scent of your ripped pussy. Your leg is shaking with anticipation and if he’s correct, you’re screaming to be mounted right about now - and have been ever since you’ve gotten into heat.

Your mouth parts so you can let out a sigh.

“It hurts.” Jungkook states. He knows - he’s been through this. He isn’t sure how heats work for women, but he knows for men, ruts are unbearable. He’s constantly hard, his cock begging to be buried deep into something warm, tight and wet. “Doesn’t it, kitty?”

You nod your head, staring right at him with those pleading eyes.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jungkook ponders. The television dances off of his face, casting a shadow that causes your heart to pump.

Your attraction for Jungkook is evident, even if you do hide it behind annoyance oftentimes. Now, you cannot hide the fact that your eyes wander to his arms. His biceps are so big and you always itch to feel them - bonus if it’s flexed. To his sweatpants. He’s seated leaning against his wall, completely relaxed in contrast to your uptight position. His legs are spreaded and his hand lights on his thigh lazily.

You speak before your mind can process what you’re saying. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww, kitty.” Jungkook sing-sons, but in mere seconds he’s on you. He tugs at your clothing, knowing you’re itching to get out of them. They’re too tight against your hot, sticky skin. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?”

You nod your head as Jungkook pulls at your shorts and discards them, your soaked panties going along with them.

Your scent instantly fills his nostrils now that you’re naked. He groans, licking his lips with great satisfaction. “Smell so sweet, kitty. I know you taste even sweeter.”

“Please fuck me, Kook.” your back is against his warm sheets now and you’re pleading. You didn’t want to wait - you’ve been waiting all day. You weren’t strong enough to fight off the natural urges to be stuffed.

“You’re so needy.” Jungkook’s hands roam your now naked body. He’s been dying to sink his teeth onto your skin, run his tongue across it. He thought about burying his face between your legs and eating you until you were a shaking mess.

“Please, Kook.” you beg again, a hand grasping his tank top. “We have all weekend.”

How right you were.

Jungkook is tugging his sweatpants down, his cock immediately poking out. Pink, angry tip oozing with pre-cum that causes you to groan at how pretty it was. “Turn around. You’re such a begging whore, kitty.”

You compy, arching your back like the good whore he told you that you were. Your thighs break apart and widen, telling him that you were ready.

“You’re already dripping and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” Jungkook chuckles darkly, marveling at your glistening cunt.

You let out a sharp breath when Jungkook’s tip slides between your wet folds. Your pussy instantly clenches around nothing, your thighs quivering. Jungkook inhales sharply, your wet pussy throbbing so much that he can feel it.

“Please fuck me, Kook. I’ve been waiting so long.” you whimper. You wiggle a bit, hoping that you would feel him slide into you.

You begging for Jungkook’s cock sends him off. He enters you swiftly and in one go. You yelp out, pussy instantly clamping around his cock.

“Oh fuck, kitty.” Jungkook groaned, head leaned back. His hands instantly wrap onto your hips, his nails digging into your skin to keep you close.

Jungkook’s cock begins to pump, thrusting so deep that he hits in the very spot that you need him to. Your fingers dig into his sheets for comfort while your mouth is falling open to let such sensual moans.

You were a submissive little thing while in heat, Jungkook notes, fully allowing him to take control of your body. His hips rut, fucking his cock deeper and deeper into you. With each thrust, you’re growing louder, your pussy begging for more. He would have never thought he’d see the day this happens - he always took you as the more dominant type.

But, you were also a feline and maybe that has something to do with the way your heat is set up. Whatever it was, Jungkook was enjoying it. His eyes are fixed on the way your ass bounces against him, your pussy making such beautiful squelching sounds with each pump of his cock.

“You’re so pretty, kitty. You should see how good you looked being fucked.” Jungkook pants. You’re creaming on his cock entirely, a sight he never wants to forget.

“Feel’s s-s-so good.” you stutter, your eyes fluttering. Deep down, you hated being in this position. So vulnerable towards Jungkook, the man you’ve hated longer than you’ve liked him. But you were far too gone now in your heat and all you truly wanted was Jungkook.

What you did care about was the way Jungkook fucks you, slamming his cock in and out of you at such an alarming pace. You’ve heard about rabbit hybrids - how good fuckers they were. Their staminas rarely decreasing. You’ve never thought you’d experience one before.

There’s such filthy noises coming from Jungkook’s bedroom that you’re glad that Yuna and Namjoon aren’t home - you couldn’t bear doing the walk of shame back to your room.

“Gonna cum all over my cock already?” Jungkook chuckles darkly. He can feel the way you’re squeezing him, your back arching to feel even more of his cock. “Go ahead and cum, kitty, but I’m not done with your pussy just yet.”

Jungkook was a man of his word. You creamy cum coats his cock entirely as he sends you over the edge. Instead, he flips you onto your back and forces your legs apart. Witnessing your glistening pussy this way was another sight he has to save in his mind - in case he never gets to have you in this position again.

Jungkook leans down, both of his large hands engulfing your breast. He manages to capture both of your nipples into his mouth, suckling harshly onto them. You gasp, already going through such a great amount of overstimulation - but Jungkook doesn’t care.

Jungkook continues to suckle and smack onto your nipples, his tip rubbing against your throbbing clit. You had to admit the sight of him - so handsome and dominant - against you sends another wave of pleasure to fall through you.

“Kookie, please.” you gasp out.

Jungkook’s dark eyes flicker up at you. He pops your nipples from his lips, saliva coating them and leans back. He removes his tank top and throws it aside then goes towards his sweat pants and removes them as well.

Jungkook had already fucked you, but witnessing him naked just as much as you is a reminder that you and him are actually doing this - when you were done with your heat, this was going to be engrained in your mind forever.

Jungkook settles back between your legs. He grasps his cock and slaps it against your throbbing, wet clit. “What do you want, kitty?” he asks.

“I want your cock.” you respond as if on command. “Please fuck me, Kookie.”

Jungkook smirks. “These little nicknames you’ve never called me before are cute.” he says, rubbing his pink tip against your clit. “I’m used to you calling me such harsher names.”

“I’m sorry.” you pout.

Jungkook licks his lips. The Y/N he knew would never apologize - you were truly fucked out.

“It’s okay, kitty. You know I love it.”

Jungkook begins to enter you. His large hand places itself right onto your stomach to keep you in place. He starts slowly, inching deeper and deeper into you. You’re watching just as intently as he is when his cock fully enters you.

Then, without warning, Jungkook’s hips begin to snap aggressively. He pounds in and out of you, his hand on your stomach forcing you to stay in place. You were a moaning, squealing mess in less than a minute. The room echoes with wet skin slapping, groans and squeals - the movie now just background noise that neither of you care about.

Feeling Jungkook raw like this in this position was amazing - you felt every throbbing vein of his cock, every curve as it pumps in and out of you.

“Kitty…” Jungkook groans, his eyes watching the way your face is drawn with such pleasure. “...I’ve wanted to feel your pussy around me for so long now.”

Jungkook is never going to make things easier for you. His hair is stuck to his forehead due to the beads of sweat. His eyes are dark with lust and it doesn’t help how completely fit he was - how you’ve managed this long without jumping his bones was astonishing even to you.

“I’ve wanted you when I was in rut but Joon forced me away.” Jungkook’s hips snap even harder now at the memory. He could smell you from just down the hall, his cock hard. “I had to fuck another cat hybrid, but she wasn’t you.”

Jungkook’s hand was going to bruise your stomach with how tight he was holding you, but he doesn’t care - and neither do you. All you cared about was how delicious his cock felt slamming into you - how disrespectful it may look from the outside looking in.

“Your pussy’s so tight and ready to be bred. I haven’t even came in you yet, kitty.” Jungkook chuckles darkly. He should’ve asked if you were on any forms of protection, but he has an idea that you aren’t. From what he’s heard from Namjoon, you don’t typically warm up to outsiders; especially men.

Maybe it makes it even more special that you’ve managed to warm up to Jungkook. Still, he’d just pull out of you when the time comes.

Jungkook’s hand slides down just enough so his thumb could twirl onto your already overstimulated clit. He watches the way your thigh quivers and you begin to squirm beneath him.

“Feel’s good, kitty?”

“Yes…!” you huff out.

“You’re already so close again, kitty.” Jungkook chuckles smugly. “Such a greedy pussy you have.”

You’re whining now, your pussy drenching not only your thighs and Jungkook’s cock, but his sheet. He doesn’t mind it in the slightest - this was just the beginning of your heat. This was the most intense.

“Wanna feel you cum in me.”

Such perverted words - Jungkook groans. You were so far out of it that he wasn’t going to acknowledge what you said. The point of the heats was for you to be bred - but he wasn’t going to do that. He couldn’t, right?

No.

Jungkook continues to pump his cock into you, his thumb twirling even harsher now. Your back is arched slightly, your pussy clenching his cock so tightly and before he knows it, his abdomen is being drenched.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook gasps, the sight of your squirting pussy sends him completely over the edge that he’s cumming right in you without realizing. He attempts to pull out of you, but he’s too slow. Your legs somehow find a way to wrap around his waist and you allow the warm cum to stuff you just like you wanted.

Most of your days consisted of the same routine.

After the sex, you and Jungkook would rest. You stayed in his room and he hadn’t minded in the slightest, holding you close against him.

When you awoke, you were hungry. Jungkook enjoys watching you eat, even if you were devouring meat while he stuck to his fruits and vegetables. He likes the way your teeth sinks into the bloodied steak, your tongue licking your lips to savor the taste.

After eating, you’d fuck each others brains out. It was therapeutic, really, the amount of positions Jungkook has had you in in such a short amount of time.

Jungkook has fucked you in front of his mirror, showing you just how good you looked when you were fucked out and begging for more. He’s had you against the wall, your legs wrapping tightly around him so he didn’t have a choice but to milk your walls with more of his seed - you’re too far into your heat to give a fuck about the consequences.

Currently, Jungkook’s head is bobbing back and forth. He’s on his knees at the edge of the bed, left hand gripping your thigh while his right is firmly gripping your ass. His tongue flickers past your clit greedily, those sinful moans music to his ears.

Jungkook finds that he simply cannot get enough of you - not your scent or your taste. Whenever you’re ready for another round, so is he.

“Slow down” you grumble softly, but your hand gripping his hair says differently. So do your hips that slowly begin to grind against his warm tongue.

“You sure?” Jungkook questions smugly, flickering his eyes up. His right hand slides from your ass to tap against your clenching and unclenching hole. “You’re making a mess all over me, kitty.”

Jungkook watches your reaction just as his fingers enter you. Your already wet pussy continues to drip all over him, begging to be bred and used for his enjoyment - like it has since the beginning. His curls curl just a bit as he pumps them in and out of you, marveling at how wet you get with each thrust.

Your teeth are sinked down against your lips, drawing a bit of blood. You weren’t trying to be quiet - there wasn’t a point in it. The pleasure of Jungkook’s fingers were just highly overwhelming. Your pussy’s squelching loudly and the noise dances off his bedroom walls - when this was all over, you promised him that you’d clean his room top to bottom.

“You have such a pretty pussy, kitty.” Jungkook grunts, pressing a firm kiss on your clit. “I want you to cum all over me again.

You’ve heard this all before from him, but each time you do, it causes you to whimper. Jungkook’s voice just does something to you - the way he speaks so calmly, but with such authority. His beautiful face and dark eyes that look right at you, rosy lips that often smirks when you’re moaning because he knows he’s fucking you good.

Jungkook connects his lips back onto your already throbbing clit, his tongue devouring instantly. He rolls it harshly, groaning along as his fingers thrust in and out.

In and out - in and out.

Your thighs are shaking, your hands continuing to grip at his dark hair. Your head falls back against the pillows and you let out a long moan.

You ponder how things were going to go back to normal between you and Jungkook. How could you pretend to hate him when you’ve been fucked too good by him - a bunny hybrid. His ego was going to go through the roof now and Yuna and Namjoon would know just how amazing he was.

Fuck.

You were cumming, Jungkooks warm tongue twirling around your sensitive bud effortlessly. You were beginning to hate him again with how amazing he was with his cock, tongue and fingers - it just wasn’t fair how all of this could be tied to one annoying man.

Jungkook knows you well enough that you want his cock next. He pushes himself up and forces your legs to your shoulders. You're so wet that his cock slides right into you, your arousal seeping out with each inch of his cock.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate - and you don’t want him to. He slides out of you until his tip is still inside and then slams right back in, hitting your sweet spot.

Your lips part to let out a strangled moan. Jungkook does it again and again, slamming his cock in and out of your sweet pussy, wet skin slapping against one another. Jungkook’s balls, full of enough cum to give you more and more just how you like, slam against your ass with each thrust. Your breasts bounce right in his line of view and Jungkook imagines how good they’d look swelled up with milk.

Jungkook groans. It was natural for him to want to breed - even if it was with a person of a different species. The babies would be either or - feline or hare; the feline trait was the dominant trait of the two. It was at this moment he hadn’t thought about the consequences of doing this without any protection, his natural instincts kicking in.

“You’d look so pretty round with kits.” Jungkook groans, his eyes drifting to your stomach. “Or kittens - whatever they’d be.”

Your pussy clenches at the thought, your heat clouding your mind from sanity. You only thought about his pumping cock milking your walls with his seed again - and again and again until your stomach is round.

“Your tits would grow bigger for our kits. Full of milk…” Jungkook cannot help it anymore. He leans down to wrap his tongue around your nipple, imagining the way they’d taste if they were full of milk.

Your sights are blurry. It was all too much - Jungkook’s dirty words with his pumping cock and now his tongue suckling onto your breast as if his life depended on it. You were cumming again with each sloppy thrust of Jungkook’s hips sending you deeper and deeper over the edge.

“Fuck you’re so pretty when you come, kitty.” Jungkook groans, popping your nipple from his wet lips.

“‘wanna feel you cum in me, Kookie.” you beg, thighs already shaking.

Of course you did, Jungkook thinks. You wanted his cum from the very beginning and who was he to not give it to you? You were such a good girl when you were in heat, completely different from your usually bitchy self that he adored that he couldn’t help but give you whatever you asked for.

Jungkook cums, his legs shaking and eyes snapping shut. His breathing is intense as cum seeps into you.

Your eyes are heavy, your pussy clenching and unclenching every so often to take in all of Jungkook’s warm cum.

“You’re going to be so pissed when you’re off of your heat, kitty.” Jungkook murmurs, still cumming into your warm cunt.

Kits or kittens didn’t sound too bad, right?

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom

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jmscaffeine

11 months ago