uguk

[uguk]

15 Minutes | jjk

➸ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader

➸ summary: 15 minutes with your favorite prisoner.

➸ word count: 5.1k

➸ warning: Sadism, masochism, femdom, baton is used to hit and also for anal, pegging, double penetration, humiliation kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex, creampie, oral sex, dubcon

“Third time this week, is it?”

Jungkook doesn’t react as he watches you sift through the papers on your clipboard. His eyes laser-focus on your knees, one crossed over the other, as you sit before him on the edge of your desk. He can hear the distant sounds of corrections officers chatting amongst themselves in the hallways, of other prisoners shouting and laughing in the commons room a level below your office. If this were one of his first times in your office he would be reacting a lot more–maybe thrashing against the handcuffs that tie his wrists behind the chair he’s sitting on in front of you. Or maybe kicking his feet against his ankle cuffs. But he’s learned his lesson, and he simply stares blankly at your legs that he knows are real soft and supple, hidden below those ugly black uniform pants you wear.

He loses that train of thought about your legs when you suddenly slam the clipboard down onto your desk, a short ‘hm’ the only sound you make as Jungkook jolts in his seat.

“Gonna tell me why you busted Donghyun’s jaw today, snake eyes?”

You look down at Jungkook, but he doesn’t look at you. His tongue pokes his cheek and his brows thread together, anger taking over his features at the sound of Donghyun’s name leaving your lips. But he swallows whatever raging epithets he has poised on the tip of his tongue.

You outstretch the leg that is bent over your knee, using the tip of your shiny black boot to lift Jungkook’s chin. It forces his eyes to meet yours and his gaze is pure venom.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?”

Blood drips from his nose (which is probably busted) over his pink lips and down his chin. But he doesn’t flinch in the slightest. Hell, you swear he doesn’t even blink.

“Hurry up and explain yourself. Before you get blood on my fuckin’ shoe.”

Jungkook snorts, his shoulders shrugging with the action–and yes, the air that rushes out his nose sends more blood dripping down his nose. And onto your boot.

“Disgusting,” you sneer, moving your ankle so you wipe the blood against his throat. You curl your fingers over the edge of the table at your sides and lean closer to him. A satisfied smirk paints your lips when you watch Adam's apple bob up and down his throat–he puts on a brave face, but he knows you’re a tough woman to crack.

“You know if you don’t talk, I’ll have to put you in solitary again. Can’t keep picking fights with your little friends down there.”

“Donghyun And I aren’t friends,” he spits out, as if vocalizing Donghyun’s name stings his tongue.

“So it wasn’t a friendly little chit chat then, was it?”

Jungkook exhales a ragged breath from his chest–you guess he probably got punched in the chest from the way his shoulders stutter. 

“Fuck no.”

You hop off your desk, grabbing his face in your hand as soon as your heavy boots make contact with the ground. He doesn’t even flinch as his bloody lips are puckered within your fingers.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to speak like that in front of a lady?”

He still says nothing as you angle his face up to look at you, defiance riddling his sea green eyes.

“I’ve put assholes in solitary for less, you know.”

He’s holding back something. You already know Jungkook well enough to know he would be raging like a petulant child if he were Jungkook.

When you let go of his face, he snickers. “I don’t care if you put me in solitary again.”

“Hmmm…” you lean back against your desk, exaggeratedly tapping at your chin with your finger as you look up at the ceiling. “Maybe I should stick you in a cell with your brother.” At this, his eyes widened. The last thing he needs is his brother, the resident lead in a rival gang, to be within spitting distance. “A little family reunion wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

“He’s a fucking psycho,” Jungkook says from behind gritted teeth. Junghyun’s doing life in prison for dismembering a man–someone from his own gang–and feeding the bits to his pet monkey. Jungkook finds it absolutely revolting; at least use a gun or a knife on a guy, but cutting them up into bits? The fuck kinda sick shit is that?

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” you joke, but Jungkook doesn’t bite. “Junghyun tells me how much he misses his baby brother, you know,” you reply, your voice hitching up as if you were stifling a giggle–which, you are, admittedly. “I’m sure you two could kiss and make up. Maybe you can tell him why you broke Donghyun’s jaw while you’re at it.”

“Ask Donghyun yourself,” Jungkook mutters. He hates that his eyes focus on your lips–painted red with your bold lipstick choice, curled into a sadistic smile. 

“I would if his jaw wasn’t busted, idiot,” you chortle, like it’s the funniest joke you’ve told all day. Jungkook doesn’t find it very funny, leaning to his side to spit out the blood from his nose that has pooled in his mouth.

You’re lightning fast, a hand reaching for your baton propped up against your desk. Jungkook bucks his knees together, trying to make himself smaller even though he can’t really move his long legs very much with the ankle cuffs on.

“Let me try again.” The handle of the baton is gripped tightly in your right hand, and you flick your wrist as you smack the blunt end against the open palm of your left hand. Jungkook flinches. “You’re gonna tell me why you keep getting into fights, Jungkook. Or–”

“They don’t like that I snitch,” Jungkook replies, in a voice that’s much softer than the harsh words he had spat from behind his pretty marbled teeth. “That I… talk to you.” He says the word talked like it implies something else–and it does, because those ‘conversations’ you have with Jungkook in your office are much less talking and much more… well…

“Taking a hit for me? How romantic,” you coo. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“You really gonna use that on me?” His eyes flick down to the baton in your hand.

“Depends… want me to hit you with it, or fuck you with it?”

“Neither.”

“I didn’t give you that option, did I?” you ask.

“That shit hurts.”

“Well if I let you out of here without roughing you up, wouldn’t they get more suspicious?” You cock an eyebrow at Jungkook, who stares back at you unamused. “I’ll let go of your handcuffs this time.”

“How kind of you.”

He doesn’t actually believe that you’ll use the baton on him–again–but you push yourself off the edge of the desk and prance over to him like you’re about to play the most fun game you’ve ever played. And that’s because playing with Jungkook is fun.

You get real close to his body, until his bloody face is practically buried in your tits, and with your left hand you reach for the keys at your waist. You use the keys to unlock his handcuffs, and they fall to the floor with a loud clang. You back away, frowning at the blood that stains your uniform–but hey, when you release Jungkook and he’s taken back to his cell, maybe the blood on your clothes will serve as proof that you roughed him up. Maybe it’s not all bad.

As you stand straight Jungkook brings his wrists to his lap, rotating them and soothing the ache in his wrists with his fingers. He tries not to overthink your putting your tits in his face–but damn, his orange pants are starting to feel fucking tight.

“Hurts, baby?” The way you say baby isn’t endearing–it’s not the way a lover would say it. It’s dripping with condescension–you’re always such a good actress, always treating Jungkook like filth until the second you’re bouncing on his cock. So he doesn’t take it to heart.

“‘Course it hurts,” Jungkook looks up at you, his long chestnut strands that were once a curtain around his face sliding down behind his shoulders. “My ankles do too.”

“I’m not letting you off that easily,” you snort. Then your voice goes an octave lower when you speak again. “Get up.”

“You’re not fucking serious.”

“Get up.”

The second he rises from his chair, you grip the back of his shirt and shove him forward until his body’s bent over your desk. Papers go flying, the metal clip of the clipboard digs into Jungkook’s cheek, and he groans–his chest hurts from his previous fights and this isn’t doing him any favors.

But none of that hurts as much as a swift hit of the baton to the back of his knees.

“God, fuck–” He groans as his body leans harder into the desk.

“I’ve decided–I’m gonna fuck you with it.”

“One of these days I’m telling my lawyer about this shit,” he groans again as his hands grip the edge of your desk.

“Tell him how good my pussy tastes too while you’re at it,” you sneer. You can see Jungkook’s elbows bend up, like he’s about to push himself off the desk, so you use the baton, poking it between his shoulder blades, and push him back down with it until his bloody nose is rubbing into the wood grain of your desk. 

“Ah, f-fuck.” His chest really does hurt, but you don’t give him any room to move. You’re way too fucking strong for your size. He would put up more of a fight but the last thing he needs is for the guards to come into your office and for you to act like he’s overpowering you–when in fact you’re the one practically torturing him.

“Stay there,” you tell him as you walk around the desk to the drawers, placing the baton on the desk. “You so much as fucking flinch you’re sharing a bed with Junghyun tonight.”

“You’re the worst,” Jungkook huffs, a pathetic form of a laugh. He can’t do much more, not with that state of his bruised chest.

You open one of the drawers and pull out that all too familiar clear tube–lube. Jungkook grimaces. Damn, you were not joking.

“Yet you always end up right back in my office with your cock as hard as a fucking rock.” You say it like it’s the funniest thing, sticking out your tongue in jest before slamming the drawer shut and taking your place back behind the brunette.

Fuck, he hates that you’re fucking right. That his cock right now is achingly hard against your stupid wooden desk in your stupid fucking office. He hates that he keeps coming back to you like a dog with his tail between his legs, telling you whatever information you want to know about the happenings of the prison and its politics, all to get 15 minutes between your thighs every night. When has he ever been so fucking stupid, so down bad for a woman–and much less a fucking lee. He should be disgusted with himself.

But he whines like a little bitch when you put the lube on the desk next to the baton, freeing your hands in order to feel him up, grabbing at every inch of skin under his orange jumper. He moans when you giggle and stick your fingers in his mouth, pulling him back by his hair to see that defiant look in his eyes when you choke him with your digits.

“Not so tough now, are you, big guy?” You murmur in his ear with that tantalizing tilt to your voice. “What would all your friends downstairs think of you looking like this, hmm?”

He coughs, spit and remnants of blood trailing down his chin when you remove your fingers from his mouth. He feels how damp they are when you slip them under his pants, grabbing his heavy cock into your palm. 

“They already think I’m your bitch,” he sighs exasperatedly as your fist slides up from the base of his length.

His breath hitches when you squeeze your fingers around the mushroom head of his cock. “Are they wrong?”

Jungkook only answers you with a deep, breathy chuckle. He’s a gangbanger for christ’s sake. He’s been with so many girls, and he’s rough with them too, always dominant as hell. So why does being with you excite him more than any of those girls combined? There’s a thrill to it, the way adrenaline pumps in his veins and his heart races in his chest when he hears you deride him, when you’re the one who’s rough with him, when you’re the one who’s fucking him.

Maybe they’re right.

Your free hand pulls down his bottoms, and despite being smaller than him he looks submissive as hell from his angle, his ass pressed right against your abdomen with his clothes pooling above his ankle cuffs. You give his ass a good slap and he fucking whines. He moans like that actually felt good and you snicker at the sound.

“I asked you a question.” Your voice is stern, mean even, and your fist around his cock is fucking tight. Are you trying to rip his dick off? He wouldn’t put it past you, actually.

“I dunno, are they wrong?” He says and even now, with his ass out, he has the gaul to act cocky.

“You’re annoying,” you reply, and Jungkook practically chokes when your hand around his cock moves down and squeezes his balls.

“Part of the charm,” he replies, but his voice is strained, the words rushing past his lips in one breath.

“I don’t have time to play your games today,” you tell him, releasing your grip on his dick and reaching for the lube. He winces when he hears the sound of you opening the cap and the gross squelching sounds that accompany it when you squeeze the tube. “Three fights in five days–if I keep you in here too long they’ll think I’m playing favorites, you know.”

“I’m not your favorite? That hurts,” Jungkook says, feigning a pout. “I thought–” he stutters as a cold finger traces his rim, coating it in lube. “I thought we had something going on here.”

“I got a rep’ here too, ya know,” you remind him as he turns his head to look back at you. “Can’t have the guys around here think I’m going soft.”

“Oh, I make you soft?” He titters, a blood-coated smirk on his face and determination sparking to life in his eyes. “That’s very cute, miss lee.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’m putting your cuffs back on,” you say as you shove your finger into his ass.

“Fuck–okay–fuck.” He changes his tune so fast, shuddering as your finger prods his insides mercilessly. Would it kill you to be a little more gentle? He’s at a loss for words as you rush through prepping him, shoving in a second finger as soon as he’s adjusted to the first, and scissoring them to widen him up, all to the tune of his pathetic little whimpers and groans. He feels his abdomen getting slick with his precum, and he hates that he’s so turned on by you. He might just cum, and he hates it. Imagine the look on your face if he actually cums like this? He knows his pride would suffer a wound greater than any of the ones on his body right now.

But the worst wound to his pride is when you reach for that baton. This isn’t the first time, but you still laugh like a fucking maniac when you tell him, “Better punishment than solitary, dontcha think?”

“I know you have dildos in your drawer. Why the fuck does it have to be the baton?” Jungkook grits his teeth as you tap his ass with it (surprisingly gentle, he thinks).

“Because, it’s a punishment, Jeon. I know you like it but–”

“No I fucking don’t.”

“You want a dildo so fucking bad, huh?” 

Fuck… now I’ve done it. Jungkook thinks as he hears the annoyance in your voice. He not only hears, but feels the vibrations on the ground as you walk around the desk again in your heavy boots. He doesn’t dare move an inch but it’s too late–you grab a dildo from the bottom drawer, one with a suction cup at the end, and wave it in his face.

“This what you want, princess?” You place it onto your desk, with force hard enough to make the suction cup grip the surface, right in front of his face. “Stop talking and put your lips to good use.”

This is so humiliating, but Jungkook doesn’t back down–not to you, not to anyone. He’ll suck this stupid plastic cock if that’s what you want. Hell, he’ll do it like he’s enjoying it, because some part of him wants to earn your respect, your praise. He doesn’t understand at all what it is that is going through your head but knowing that you’ll reward him at the end–because you always do–pushes him to take whatever you give him.

He hears a pleasant, satisfied hum from you when he wraps his lips around the plastic toy. “Be a good boy and I’ll reward you,” you remind him in a voice that’s sickeningly sweet. But he doesn’t need to hear it, he’s spent so many strange nights just like these in your office that he already knows what’s to come. 

When he feels the end of the baton, cold metal against the heat of his flesh, he flinches. There’s another sound–more lube–and then the feeling of you pushing it against his entrance. You hear him groaning against the toy in his mouth, and reach out to shove the back of his head down onto it with your palm. He sputters, drool dripping down his chin and coating the toy, as the toy fills the cavern of his mouth and hits the back of his throat. You wish in your position you could see his face, but that’s okay–you’ll see it later, surely.

You can hear Jungkook’s muffled cry as the blunt end of your weapon makes it past his tight rim. His legs quiver and his back arches–you can’t help but tease him. “What a whore,” you tell him, pushing the rod even more into him. “You like being treated like this, like a set of holes, huh?”

Jungkook grunts, his knuckles on the edge of the table turning white as he grips on tight to it. He feels like a whore, letting you emasculate him like this. But, with one hand on the rod and the other hand jerking his cock again, he’s back to feeling pleasure under your touch.

“See? You like it–you slut.” You punctuate the words by driving the rod deeper into his ass and he feels tears begin to coat his lashes. His pleas, muffled by the plastic cock in his mouth, don’t reach your ears. You realize you miss Jungkook’s vocalizations but the sight of him sucking the toy is hot enough to keep him where he is. “Your cock’s so wet… gonna cum like this, Jeon?”

“Mmph.” he hates that the answer to your question is yes, yes he might actually just cum with your hand stroking him and gripping his shaft so tight. You twist the baton in his ass and he reels as it presses against his prostate, shooting pleasure up his spine like lightning. 

“C’mon, pretty boy, cum for me, won’t you?” You coo, your hand moving faster and faster up and down his length. You feel his body tense up as muffled moans hit your ears. And then it happens–he lifts off the toy, drool coating his face as he groans out a low “fucking shit”, his breath ragged as his cum sputters out his length and coats your fingers, your desk, and drips down his skin. His chest, still in pain, heaves as you pull out the rod from his ass and toss it to the floor.

“Up,” you instruct him, wiping your soiled fingers on his shirt like it’s a rag. He turns around with your help (because his ankles are bound, making for an awkward shuffle of his feet). He looks down at you with eyes that are glazed over with tears, pupils dazed and unfocused. The blood from his nose has dried, but his face is damp, caked with tears and drool. The corner of your lips turns up at the sight. “You look so fucked out.”

You reach a thumb to wipe at the wetness on his face but he brings a hand up to push your fingers away. “You’re a crazy bitch.”

“Part of the job description, sweetheart.”

He chuckles weakly, incredulous at how you always manage to outsmart him. And he easily complies, limp like a fucking ragdoll, when you push him back against your desk. His ass hurts, his chest hurts, everything fucking hurts. But still he lets you use him, his heart fluttering in his chest like a fucking simp when you ball his orange shirt in your fist and pull him down for a kiss. It’s so wet, his mouth coated in his spit, but you love it messy. Your tongue delves into his mouth for a taste and he smirks when he feels you hum against his lips. You put on a front but the second your lips are on him he knows you’re just as affected as he is.

His hands come to your hips as you kiss him, and he dares to slip a hand below the waistband of your pants. He’s been a good boy, and so you let him–his fingers snaking in your pants until they find your puffy cunt, clothed by a set of lace panties. There’s no mistaking it–his fingers are drenched even through the cloth.

He pulls away from the kiss just enough to tease you. “You’re fucking soaked.”

“Gonna do something about it?” You ask him, biting back a whine that wants to leave your throat when his middle finger rubs your clit over your panties.

He might still be totally fucked out, his eyes hazy and his mind riddled with endorphins, but he still has enough of a bite in him to say, “Come sit on my cock and find out.”

“You’ve got balls on you, Jeon,” you titter as you bring your hands down to pull down your pants, and your panties along with them. 

“Barely–you squeezed the shit out of them earlier, you asshole,” he smiles like that didn’t hurt to all fucking hell, his lips stained red with either your lipstick or his blood–maybe both. 

“You deserved it,” you tell him as you push on his chest, steering him in the opposite direction to sit back down on the chair in front of your desk. He winces in pain, gritting his teeth. “Sit back.” He trips over his bound ankles but sits down, bare ass to the chair, as you tell him to. He’s looking at you with a gaze that says he has allowed you to boss him around, and not that you actually are bossing him around, his tongue poking from between his teeth like there’s a joke that only he’s in on.

“What’s so funny?” You ask him as you step out of your pants.

“Nothing,” he says, yet he says it like it’s something. You want to wipe the smirk off his face but opt to sit on his lap. He’ll be putty under you soon enough. 

“You talk a lot for someone who just had a stick up his ass.”

“Very funny,” he says, his hands coming to your waist as you crawl onto his lap. His pants are down to his ankles and his cock’s already out, still wet and sensitive from just having cum. You place one hand on his shoulder and the other takes his length into your palm, aligning it with your entrance as you sink down on him. And for the first time that night you let a moan slip, a crack in your facade, as he fills you up with his impressive size. That is the reason Jungkook chuckles. You’re so fucking predictable–every night you treat him like a playtoy, only to find your own pleasure in the end. But fuck it, your voice sounds fucking sexy and your pussy feels like heaven and that makes it worth the shit you do to him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands gripping your bare ass as your own hands clamp down on his shoulders. He feels overstimulated, his body’s fucking sore, and your pussy, it’s… “so fucking tight.”

Jungkook leans back in his chair, attempting to widen the stance of his legs, but with the ankle cuffs it’s no use. You use his shoulders to steady yourself as you lift up your hips and slam them back down, feeling practically every vein of his dick throbbing inside you. You bite down on your lips, hard, muffling the sob that’s stuck in your throat. It feels so good–his cock always does–but you hate it when that smug face he makes is validated by your pathetic whimpers.

“Don’t do that.” He reaches up his thumb to pull your lip from between your teeth, and as you bounce up and down again, a moan leaves your lips unfiltered. “Sounds sexy–you’re desperate for my cock too, aren’t you, miss lee?”

You let go of his shoulder with your right hand, only to grab a fistful of his hair and tug it back, until his eyes are up at the ceiling. You were hoping it would shut him up but, the madman, he laughs. He laughs as you start to gain a rhythm on his lap, like he’s heard the funniest story and you’re the storyteller. You’re riding him, clamping down on him as you chase your own high without a care for him. He’s groaning with how sensitive he is but he wants to cum again–to fill you up with him.

“Fuck me, faster,” he practically growls, his nails digging into your ass. “Faster, I know you can.”

“Ah–” you gasp as his hands begin to help you, pulling you up and pushing you down onto his cock at a faster pace. You dig your fingers harder into his shoulders, your hand tugging harder on his hair, but he’s already immune to the pain you give him, drowning in rapture, the warmth of your heat making his cock fucking weep. The sounds are so loud and obscene in your office, the squelching, the way you gasp and your stern voice turns dulcet with your moans, the way he grunts and grinds his teeth with the pain of you pulling his strands. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the words slip past your lips with every one of your movements. “Gonna cum.”

“God–” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, his lips parting in a silent scream as you squeeze him so tight when you cum, milking his cock with every wave of your orgasm. He keeps bouncing you on his lap, slowing down his movements when he throbs as he coats your insides white with his cum. For just a moment the office is still, just the sounds of your breaths and Jungkook’s chest heaving, feeling pain with every breath. You’re both slick with sweat under your clothes, Jungkook’s cum dripping down as you peel yourself off his lap.

“It’s been way more than 15 minutes,” you finally say, bending down to pick up your clothes from the ground. Jungkook doesn’t move a muscle, even with his pants down to his ankles–he just watches with keen interest as you bend over and put on your panties, his cum trickling down your thighs from your pretty cunt.

“Wait,” he says, just before you pull up your lace undies all the way.

“What?”

“Come here,” he gestures to you with a nod of his head. You come closer and when you’re within reach, he quickly spins you around and pulls you by the hips, until your ass is right by his face. “Can’t have you working when you’re all messy like that.”

“What are you–Jungkook!” For once he has you flustered as you feel his tongue lick a stripe up your dripping cunt. He holds you still as his tongue flicks over your clit, before lapping up the essence that coats your thighs and seeps from where he’d just been inside. He moans like he’s enjoying a fucking feast, because hell, your pussy tastes divine even if it’s got a bit of salt and bitterness from his cum. This is the reward he really wants, drinking down what you give him like it’s the best thing he’s tasted in years.

Just as he begins to suck on your clit, an alarm goes off overhead–the bell that signals the end of the prisoners’ free time, now time for them to head to their respective quarters for the night.

But you’re so close to another orgasm, and you sigh in frustration.

Jungkook snickers when he hears your annoyed whine. For such a dominating woman you could be a brat sometimes.

“Haven’t had enough of me yet?” He asks with a smirk. You push him away and quickly get dressed, while he sits there and watches.

“Shut up,” you mutter. “Put your pants on.”

He first bends down, to pick up the fabric of his bottoms from his ankles to over his knees. Then, he leans back in the chair, lifting his hips, and pulls up his pants the rest of the way. As he watches you straighten up your uniform, he asks, “Am I free to go?”

You hook one of your hands under his elbow, pulling him up so he can stand tall on his two feet. Then you bend to the ground to grab his handcuffs that you had tossed aside earlier.

“So what exactly did Donghyun say to make you bust his jaw like that?” You muse as Jungkook silently turns around and allows you to cuff him up.

He parts his lips, as if to speak, but before any words can be spoken there’s a knock at the door.

“Is Jeon in there?” Bellows a deep voice from the other side of the door–Officer Lim, you realize.

“Yeah,” you call out towards the door. You pat down your hair and hope it doesn’t look too disheveled. “Come in.”

Lim then comes in to take Jungkook away, back to his cell. Never questions why Jungkook spends so much time in the your office–frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. 

“Jeon?” You ask him expectantly, quirking your eyebrows in hopes that he answers your previous question.

He simply shrugs and replies, with a knowing glint in his eye, “Guess it’ll have to wait for our next 15 minutes together to find out, officer.”

[uguk]