BEARLY CONTAINED
Pairing : Bear hybrid Namjoon x Ferret hybrid reader (established relationship)
Word count : 5.7 k words
Warning : smut, oral sex (f receiving), Sexual intercourse, vaginal penetration, inappropriate uses of honey, food kink, Namjoon being high, rough sex, mating press, knotting, animalistic behaviour, huge size difference, pussy spanking, fingering, feral Namjoon.
Authors note : Hello everyone I'm back from the little break I took. I'm sorry I haven't been posting much :/, two of my kittens died and multiple things have been going on in my personal life as well that have taken a huge toll on me, ofc that's not reason to abandon or neglect writing so I'll try to post more but it's really hard trying to focus when do many things are going on at once.
Synopsis : Namjoon decided to get high on honey and turn his pretty menace in a honey slick snack
You had always known Namjoon had a thing for honey. It made sense—he was a bear hybrid, after all.
So when he came home with a bag full of fresh honeycomb, you didn’t bat an eye. It was normal. Cute, even.
But what wasn’t normal…
Was the absolute feral way he was devouring it.
You watched in stunned horror as Namjoon sat on the floor, legs crossed, eyes half-lidded in bliss as he shoveled chunk after chunk of honeycomb into his mouth. His lips and fingers were glistening with honey, sticky trails running down his wrists, but he didn’t care. He was in the zone.
But then—then.
You saw him reach for the honey jar.
And you watched—in real-time horror—as he dipped a piece of honeycomb into more honey.
You gagged. “Oh my god, are you serious right now?”
Namjoon barely blinked at you before taking a slow, obscene bite, his jaw working as he chewed.
“What?” he mumbled, mouth full.
You stared at him like he had personally offended your entire bloodline. “You’re dipping honey in honey, Namjoon. That’s—” you shuddered, “—that’s some sick, twisted shit.”
Namjoon blinked. Licked his fingers. Took another bite. Moaned.
You dry-heaved. “OH MY GOD.”
Namjoon shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Let me have my moment.”
You pointed at him, voice shaking. “You’re disgusting.”
Namjoon only smirked, licking his lips. “You weren’t saying that last night.”
Your soul left your body.
You watched as Namjoon continued his absolute onslaught on the honeycomb, dipping each piece into even more honey before shoving it into his mouth like some kind of deranged addict.
At first, you were horrified. Then, you were repulsed.
Now?
Now you were concerned.
Because last time he went on a honey binge like this, he ended up glued to the toilet for an entire day, clutching his stomach and groaning in absolute misery.
You cleared your throat. "Uh, babe… you good?"
Namjoon barely spared you a glance as he shoved another dripping piece into his mouth. “Mhm.”
You squinted. His pupils looked a little… dilated.
“Are you… high?”
Namjoon hummed again, closing his eyes as he moaned around the honeycomb.
Your stomach turned.
You leaned in, whispering, “Babe. How much honey have you had?”
He licked his fingers and shrugged. “Dunno.”
Your eyes widened. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
Namjoon let out a deep, satisfied sigh, tipping his head back against the couch. “M’just… feelin’ good.”
Your alarm skyrocketed. You knew that bears could actually get high off certain types of honey. And judging by the absolute state of Namjoon right now…
You grabbed the honey jar and read the label. Your stomach dropped.
Mad Honey – Raw, Unfiltered, Wild Harvested
You slapped your forehead. Oh my god. He’s fucking drugged.
You grabbed the honey jar out of his hands, holding it out of reach. "Enough. No more honey for you."
Namjoon blinked up at you, dazed and sluggish, his sticky fingers still curled like he was expecting another piece to magically appear. His lips wobbled, his brows furrowed, and then—
He whimpered.
Your jaw dropped.
Namjoon, your giant, grizzly bear of a boyfriend, whimpered like a scolded puppy, looking at you like you had just taken away his only source of happiness.
You stared at him, aghast. "Did you just—"
Namjoon blinked again, slow and confused, like even he didn't realize the sound came from him.
You took a step back, pointing a shaking finger. "You're cut off. No more honey."
Namjoon's ears flattened. "B-But—"
Oh, hell no.
You crossed your arms. "No ‘buts.’ You remember what happened last time, right?"
Namjoon pouted, looking far too soft and pathetic for someone who could bench press a car. "That was different."
You deadpanned. "You shit your soul out for twelve hours straight, Joon."
He grumbled, slumping over dramatically. "You're so mean to me."
You rolled your eyes. "You'll thank me later."
Namjoon huffed, eyes fluttering closed like he was dozing off mid-sulk. His big body sagged against the couch, syrupy and slow, his honey-covered lips parting with a dreamy sigh.
You sighed, rubbing your temples. Great. Now you had to deal with a high, sulky, whimpering bear.
Namjoon was still sprawled against the couch, heavy-lidded and syrup-slow, when his brows furrowed in deep thought. Then—like a lightbulb had gone off in his honey-drunk mind—his face lit up.
You immediately narrowed your eyes. "Why do you look like you're about to make a very bad decision?"
Namjoon blinked at you, lips curling into a slow, lazy smile. "Baby."
Your stomach flipped. That tone of voice never meant anything good.
"What?"
He reached for you, big hands warm as they slid up your thighs. "Lemme cover you in honey and lick it off."
You stared. Hard.
Then, you smacked his hands away. "See, that would be a normal request if you weren’t a whole-ass fiend."
Namjoon just grinned. "C’mon, just a little."
"No."
"Why not?" He leaned in, voice dipping low, lips brushing your jaw.
"Because you’re literally—" Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked against your pulse. "—on something right now."
Namjoon hummed against your neck. "I just think you’d taste good covered in honey."
Your fingers twitched. You were so weak. So, so weak.
"Joon—"
"Shh," he soothed, mouth trailing soft, sticky kisses up your throat.
Your resolve cracked.
Your fingers fisted his hoodie, trying to push him away, but he was warm and solid and licking you, and oh, that was a very good decision on his part.
You sighed, tilting your head to the side. "Just a little."
Namjoon smirked. "Mhm."
Yeah, you were so screwed.
you knew you were really screwed the moment Namjoon grabbed a fresh box of honeycomb and tossed it onto the bed like some grand offering.
Even more so when he hauled you up like you weighed nothing, slinging you over his shoulder as he carried you to the bedroom like a damn ragdoll.
"Namjoon—"
"Shh, sweetheart," he cooed, patting your ass like you were a petulant little thing.
Your brain short-circuited. Oh, this menace.
By the time he gently plopped you onto the mattress, you were torn between fighting for your dignity and letting him do whatever the hell he wanted. (That smirk on his face? It told you he already knew which way you'd lean.)
Namjoon cracked his knuckles, looking way too pleased with himself.
"Alright, baby—" He popped open the honeycomb box with practiced ease. "Let’s get you nice and sweet."
The second Namjoon told you to strip, you obeyed without question.
Because, let’s be honest—take-charge Namjoon? A rarity. A once-in-a-blue-moon phenomenon. And it was so, so, so hot.
You barely shimmied out of your clothes before he was on you, looming like a beast with one thing on his mind. His glasses had been tossed somewhere (a shame, really, because hot and commanding plus glasses? Whew), and his big, calloused hands were already palming the honeycomb.
You were ready—expecting teasing licks, slow drizzles of honey over your stomach, maybe even a cheeky little suck on your fingers.
But no.
Namjoon squeezed the honeycomb.
Directly over your boobs.
Cold, thick, golden honey dripped in heavy globs, plopping onto your skin with an almost offensive schlop.
"NAMJOON—!"
He blinked. Innocently. As if he didn’t just turn your chest into a goddamn honey-glazed feast.
"What?" he asked, brows furrowed, genuinely confused at your outrage.
You gawked at him. "What do you mean, ‘what’?! Do you see what you just did?!"
Namjoon definitely saw what he just did. His entire face lit up as he stared at your sticky, glistening skin like you were some kind of delicacy.
"Mmh," he hummed, grinning, "yeah. I see."
Oh, you were so doomed.
Before you could even process the mess he’d made, Namjoon doubled down.
With both hands, he smeared the honey across your skin, rubbing it in like some kind of primal body oil. His massive palms dragged over your stomach, your thighs, your everything, leaving no part untouched.
"NAMJOON!" you screeched, half-laughing, half-mortified as his fingers kneaded into your hips, your waist, your—oh my god.
He was grinning, completely unbothered, absolutely delighted with himself.
"Shh, baby," he murmured, leaning down. His lips ghosted over yours, breath warm and way too smug. "I’m making sure it’s evenly distributed."
Before you could curse him out, he kissed you.
Hard.
And that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was the way his sticky hands groped you, squeezing your honey-covered skin like he owned it. Like he had all the time in the world to knead and stroke and tease, mapping your body like he was committing every inch to memory.
His thumb flicked over your nipple, and you whimpered—half from the sensation, half from the goddamn honey making everything ten times warmer and messier.
Namjoon chuckled against your lips, low and satisfied.
"You’re so sweet, baby," he mused, nipping at your jaw. "I could eat you up."
…And judging by the way he descended on you next, you had no doubt he was about to do exactly that.
Before you could even recover from the onslaught of sticky kisses and groping, Namjoon reached for the honeycomb again.
You barely had time to process before he gave it another firm squeeze, watching as the golden nectar drizzled onto your already-glazed skin.
"Joonie," you panted, half-heartedly swatting at his wrist. "Sweetie You’re making a mess—"
"Mhm." His hum was completely unrepentant as he dipped his fingers into the fresh honey, coating them thoroughly before bringing them between your thighs.
Your breath hitched.
Namjoon smirked.
"Let’s see how sweet you really are, baby."
And then, without warning, he used those same honey-slicked fingers to spread you apart—slow, deliberate, letting the warm, sticky sensation sink into your skin before he pressed in.
The stretch was torturous, the slow slide making you gasp as the honey only made everything more intense—more messy, more heated, more overwhelming.
"Shit," Namjoon groaned, watching the way you took him, the way his fingers disappeared inside you with an obscene, honey-slick sound. His free hand tightened on your thigh, gripping hard enough to leave a mark.
"Fuck, baby," he rasped. "Look at you—dripping and messy, all for me."
His thumb brushed against your clit, making you jolt, and he just grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in another filthy, honey-sweet kiss.
Namjoon groaned as his tongue dragged over your honey-slick skin, starting at your throat and working his way down. He was thorough—painstakingly slow—his mouth hot and wet as he licked you clean.
Every kiss, every bite sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. And he wasn’t just taking his time—he was savoring you, humming deep in his chest like he’d never tasted something so good.
"Joon," you gasped when he sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, your back arching as a wave of heat surged through you.
His only response was a deep chuckle against your skin, his fingers curling inside you at the same time his palm rubbed against your clit.
The pressure was insane, the way his broad hand pressed against you, rolling his palm just enough to have your thighs shaking around him.
"You’re so messy, baby," he murmured against your collarbone before dragging his tongue lower, dipping between the valley of your breasts. "So fucking sweet."
And then—he bit down, just enough to make you yelp, before soothing it with his tongue, his fingers still pumping into you, still keeping that relentless pressure on your clit.
You were done for.
Namjoon groaned as he dragged his tongue down, his breath hot against your sticky, honey-coated skin. His favorite part of you—so soft, so fucking perfect—was right in front of him, and he wasn’t about to hold back.
His lips latched onto one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the already sensitive bud before he sucked, hard.
"J-Joon—!" Your back arched as pleasure shot straight down your spine, your hands flying to his hair, tugging—but it only spurred him on.
He moaned against your chest, his big hands cupping your breasts, squeezing them together as he left hickey after hickey, marking you up like he was claiming you.
Each kiss, each bite was relentless, his teeth scraping just enough to make your breath hitch before his tongue soothed the sting. Your nipples were already puffy and raw, but he didn't stop.
If anything, he got greedier, alternating between your breasts, flicking his tongue over your swollen nipples before sucking them deep into his mouth.
"You’re so fucking sweet," he groaned, his voice wrecked as he buried his face between your breasts, his tongue lapping at the honey. "Can’t get enough of you."
And then—his fingers tightened on your waist, his hips grinding into yours as he growled, his cock pressing hard against your thigh.
"Fuck, baby," he muttered, looking up at you with dark, hunger-filled eyes, his lips shiny with honey and spit. "I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet."
It was honestly concerning—and so fucking hot—to see Namjoon like this.
He was always so careful with you, so gentle, like he was afraid he’d break you if he so much as breathed too hard in your direction. But now?
Now he was feral.
His glasses were long forgotten, his hair messy from your fingers pulling at it, his lips shiny with honey and spit, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes—were dark with pure, unfiltered hunger.
"Joon," you gasped as he pinched your already swollen nipple, rolling it between his fingers before soothing it with his tongue. His other hand was still rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit, and it was making you squirm.
"You’re always so eager," he murmured against your chest, his voice thick with amusement and arousal. "So desperate. You love this, don’t you?"
Your breath hitched—not just from his words but from the way he ground his cock against you, hard.
"You're one to talk," you shot back, trying to sound defiant, but it came out as a whimper instead when he suddenly pushed his fingers inside you, stretching you with that same slow, teasing pace.
Namjoon chuckled, his deep voice vibrating against your skin. "Maybe," he admitted, curling his fingers just right to make you gasp. "But at least I’m not the one who’s already dripping all over my hand."
He was so smug. So cocky. And you should have been annoyed.
But you weren’t.
Not when he looked at you like that. Not when he touched you like that.
Not when he was finally—finally—letting go.
He kissed and sucked lower and lower, leaving no spot untouched, no inch of skin left unmarked. His tongue traced every curve, every dip, worshiping you with slow, deliberate drags of his mouth.
And then—
Then he finally reached his heaven.
Namjoon groaned, deep and needy, his breath hot against your slick folds as he spread you open with his thumbs. His grip was firm, his hands still sticky with honey, and the contrast of warmth and cool air made you shudder.
"Fuck," he rasped, his voice wrecked. "So pretty."
He didn’t waste a second.
His mouth latched onto you like he was starving, tongue pressing flat before curling just right, dragging slow, lazy circles around your clit before dipping lower. His nose nudged against you as he devoured you, humming like he was tasting the sweetest honeycomb in the world.
And maybe—maybe—to him, you were.
Your fingers flew to his hair, tangling in the strands as your thighs trembled against his broad shoulders. But Namjoon wasn’t having it.
He growled—low, deep, possessive—before throwing your legs over his shoulders and pulling you closer, until there was no escaping the relentless, messy way he ate you out.
"J-Joon—!" you choked out, the overstimulation making you arch, your body a livewire under his touch.
He only moaned in response, his grip tightening as he flicked his tongue faster, hungrier, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you were begging—until you were a writhing, panting mess beneath him.
Namjoon was utterly feral.
He didn’t even need his hands—he just buried his face between your thighs and devoured you. Messy. Sloppy. Loud. The obscene slurping noises mixed with his deep, satisfied groans made your entire body burn.
The only time he used his hands was to grab another chunk of honeycomb, squeezing it over your skin, letting the golden nectar drip and pool between your legs before he licked it up like he was dying for it.
"Joon—!" Your breath hitched as he moaned into you, the vibrations making your toes curl.
His tongue worked you over ruthlessly, alternating between slow, deep drags and fast flicks, never giving you a moment to breathe. He was so into it, so consumed, so gone in the taste of you mixed with honey that you swore he wasn’t even thinking anymore.
Just acting on pure instinct.
Your hands fisted in his hair, but he ignored you, too busy lapping up every drop of honey and slick, groaning like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
Namjoon was obsessed.
He used his fingers to spread you apart, watching intently as the honey and slick mixed together, making an absolute mess of you. His breath was hot against your sensitive skin, and then—fuck—he pressed his tongue inside, trying to reach as deep as he could.
The stretch was nothing compared to what he usually gave you, but the sensation? The feeling of his wet, warm tongue pushing in, curling, licking you from the inside? It had your thighs trembling.
"J-Joonie—oh my god—"
His deep groan vibrated against you, sending shockwaves up your spine. He was so into it, so gone, his fingers tightening on your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough. He licked, sucked, and fucked you with his tongue, dragging more of the sticky honey over your folds, making sure there wasn’t a single inch of you left untouched.
And the worst part? You could hear how much he was enjoying himself—soft, muffled moans between every stroke of his tongue, as if he was the one getting off on this.
Namjoon didn’t even warn you.
One second, you were flat on your back, drowning in the sensation of his tongue, and the next—you were flipped over, knees sinking into the mattress, ass up, his big hands spreading you apart.
He groaned at the sight, low and guttural, before burying his face right back in.
"J-Joon—fuck—"
Your fingers twisted in the sheets, desperate to ground yourself, but it was too much. The way he squeezed and groped at your ass, the obscene way he kissed your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before fucking back into you—it had you shaking.
And when he moaned—actually moaned against you, lost in his own hunger—that was it. Your vision blurred, your back arched, and you came hard, spilling over his tongue, soaking his lips and chin.
But Namjoon?
He just groaned again, gripping you tighter, and kept going.
Namjoon had never done this for so long before.
Sure, he’d eaten you out before—thoroughly, at that. But this? This was something else. Something almost primal.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down. He just kept going, dragging you through one orgasm, then another, until your legs were trembling and your throat was raw from crying out.
"J-Joon—please, I—"
You couldn’t even finish the sentence. Your body was shaking, overwhelmed, every nerve fried from the intensity. But Namjoon? He only hummed against you, the vibrations sending another sharp jolt through your spine.
His hands squeezed your ass, spreading you wider as his tongue fucked into you again, and you whimpered, nearly collapsing into the sheets.
You could feel his breath against your skin when he finally pulled back, lips shiny with your slick and the remnants of honey.
"One more." His voice was low, rough, almost a growl. "Give me one more, baby."
And fuck—how could you ever tell him no?
Namjoon was gone.
The moment he pulled back, his lips were still wet, his face flushed, and his glasses slightly fogged. But none of that compared to the way he looked at you—hungry, desperate, completely fucked out before he’d even gotten inside you.
Still in his daze, he flipped you, grabbed your thighs and hauled them up, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled between them, his favorite position—the one that let him see everything, that let him fold you into him like you were made to fit there.
You barely had time to catch your breath before he shoved his boxers down, and—fuck.
His cock slapped against your swollen clit, dragging slick and honey along your folds as he rocked against you. And then—he moaned.
Deep, needy, utterly wrecked.
You stared, brain short-circuiting.
"Did you just—?"
Namjoon groaned again, grinding against you like he was starving. His brows furrowed, his hips twitching, his voice almost whiny.
"Fuck—need you—"
Your stomach dropped.
Holy shit.
Namjoon gritted his teeth, his massive hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep you in place. His cock dragged against your slick folds, smearing a mix of honey and arousal over your skin as he rutted against you, barely holding himself back.
His chest heaved as he forced himself to slow down, to check—to be sure. You were already so stretched from his fingers, your hole still twitching from the onslaught of his tongue. But he knew his size. Knew his girth. And if he didn’t take his time, he could hurt you.
Still panting, he dragged his fingers through the mess between your legs, gently pressing two back inside, then three—watching how easily they slid in, how your walls clenched around them, already desperate for more.
"Shit—" His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked.
You whined, shifting, trying to grind down, trying to take more—but Namjoon held you still, barely keeping control. His cock throbbed against your stomach, impossibly thick, his knot already swelling at the base in anticipation.
"You're ready," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Fuck—you're so ready for me, aren’t you?"
His fingers pulled out, leaving you empty—only for the fat tip of his cock to press against your entrance, teasing, stretching you just enough to make your breath hitch.
Namjoon looked up, locking eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide, his lips parted, his whole body trembling with restraint.
"Last chance," he breathed. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
Like hell you would.
Your answer was immediate. A sharp whine, your hips jerking up to chase the blunt head of his cock. As if you’d ever tell him to stop.
Namjoon chuckled, the deep rumble sending a shiver down your spine. His large hand smoothed over your thigh, warm and grounding—before suddenly slapping your clit.
You yelped, body jolting, but the sting melted into pleasure so quickly it made your head spin.
"So needy," he murmured, thumbing over your clit in slow, taunting circles. "So desperate for my cock, huh? You really want me to stretch this pretty pussy out?"
You whined, nodding frantically, grabbing at his wrist, at anything.
He hummed, pleased, teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance, barely pushing in, just enough to make you feel the stretch.
"Good girl," he praised, voice rich with amusement and something darker. "Then take me."
And with that, he finally—finally—began to sink in.
The stretch was insane, bordering on too much, your walls struggling to accommodate his sheer size. But Namjoon went slow, letting you feel every inch as he slid deeper, murmuring soft, mind-melting praise—
"So fucking tight."
"Taking me so well, baby."
"God, you look so pretty stuffed full of me."
His grip on your thighs tightened, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to hold himself back.
"Almost there, sweetheart—fuck, just a little more—"
And then, he bottomed out.
Namjoon groaned, his forehead pressing against yours, his cock throbbing inside you. You barely had a moment to adjust before he reached for the remaining honeycomb, his movements slow, deliberate.
Your breath hitched as he squeezed the honey right where you were connected, the warm, sticky liquid dripping over your stretched entrance, down to his cock, coating both of you in obscene slickness.
"Shit," Namjoon cursed, watching with half-lidded eyes as the honey trickled down. He used his fingers to spread it, mixing it with your arousal, smearing it over your clit, over the thick base of his cock. "Fuck, look at you, baby. So messy. So fucking sweet."
You whimpered, body twitching, and then—
He pulled out just enough to thrust back in.
The slide was so easy, so slick, the added warmth of the honey making everything more.
Namjoon moaned, his deep, guttural voice sending a rush of heat straight to your core. He gripped your thighs tighter, his pace starting slow but deep, making sure you felt every thick inch dragging along your walls before sinking all the way back in.
"You like that, sweetheart?" he rasped, leaning down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. "Like feeling me fuck all this honey into you?"
Your nails dug into his arms, your legs tightening around his waist as you gasped, "Yes—fuck—Joon, please—"
He groaned at the sound of his name, his self-control snapping.
"Then take it."
With that, he snapped his hips forward, hard, and started fucking you in earnest.
Namjoon was so fucking good, it was criminal.
He didn’t even hesitate—didn’t wait, didn’t ease you into it—just started pounding into you with slow, devastating strokes that immediately found your g-spot. Each thrust had his cockhead grinding against it, rubbing against that spot inside you that made your back arch off the mattress, your fingers clawing at his arms.
"Fuck—Namjoon—"
He grunted against your skin, his lips latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard as his hips snapped against yours. The wet, obscene squelching sounds of honey and arousal filled the room, mixing with your gasps and the deep groans he let out against your breast.
Then, he did the worst thing imaginable.
His palm slid down, pressing right against your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles as his cock bullied its way deeper, slamming into your cervix like he owned it.
Your vision went white.
"You’re taking me so fucking well, sweetheart," Namjoon growled, biting down on your nipple, rolling the peak between his teeth. His other hand braced against the mattress beside your head, holding you down as he started rutting into you harder, faster. "So perfect for me—so fucking messy—"
You couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Could only feel.
Namjoon pressed his palm against your lower belly, right where he knew he was hitting the deepest, and groaned when he felt himself inside you.
"You feel that, baby?" His voice was rough, nearly slurred from how pussy-drunk he was. "Right here—I'm so deep inside you."
The pressure made your walls clamp so tight around him, your body trembling as you arched into his touch. It was too much, the way he owned every part of you—his cock stretching you open, his hand pressing down, his other palm still teasing your clit as his mouth devoured your tits.
"Fuck—fuck, Joon—"
He groaned at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, his hips snapping harder as he rolled his thumb over your swollen clit. The lewd, wet noises of your bodies slamming together mixed with your desperate gasps, his low, guttural moans, and the faint squelch of honey still smeared between you.
"God, you're so messy—so fucking tight—" Namjoon grunted, pressing harder on your belly, feeling himself bulging inside you with every deep thrust. His cock was grinding against your cervix, pushing into that soft, sensitive spot that made your vision blur.
He owned you in this moment.
Body, mind, soul—everything.
Your orgasm crashed into you like a brick, a violent, breathtaking wave that had you shuddering around him, walls clamping down so tight it was nearly unbearable. But Namjoon didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow down.
Didn’t let up.
If anything, he fucked you through it—kept driving into your overstimulated body, dragging out the pleasure until it blurred into something sharp and endless.
The moment he buried himself to the hilt, you felt it—his cock pulsing, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside you, but he didn’t stop there either.
Didn’t pull out.
Didn’t even pause.
Instead, he groaned, voice wrecked, and rolled his hips to push himself deeper.
"Fuck—" he rasped, sucking a mark onto your already-bruised breast. "Gonna give you more—take it, baby, take all of it."
Your entire body convulsed, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
"J-Joon—too much—fuck—"
But he just hummed, hands gripping your thighs as he pinned you in place, keeping you open and helpless as he chased his pleasure.
"You can take it, sweetheart—just one more—give me one more—"
And God, you did.
You were so stupidly overstimulated, body trembling under Namjoon as he kept fucking into you, deep and unrelenting. Every nerve felt raw, every thrust sent another sharp jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core.
Didn’t help that he looked so fucking hot.
Didn’t help that he was huge, towering over you, muscles flexing with every precise snap of his hips.
Didn’t help that his eyes—dark, blown out with lust—were fixed on you like he was watching his prettiest masterpiece fall apart beneath him.
"F-fuck—Joon—" you choked out, eyes fluttering as another wave hit you, so intense it nearly knocked you out.
Namjoon groaned, leaning down to kiss you through it, all slow and deep, like he was trying to ground you. But even then, he didn’t stop.
Didn’t let you breathe.
Didn’t let you recover.
"I know, baby," he cooed, so fucking smug, like he wasn’t destroying you. "But you can give me another, yeah? Just one more—be good for me."
He shifted, pressing his hand against your lower belly, pushing down, and fuck—the pressure made you feel everything, like he was trying to ruin you.
"J-Joon, I—oh my fucking—"
Your legs kicked, body convulsing as you came again, sobbing through the pleasure, but Namjoon just chuckled, voice low and wrecked.
"That’s my girl."
Namjoon was chasing his pleasure, thrusts growing erratic, deep grunts spilling from his lips as he wrecked you. You could barely think, barely breathe, every inch of you raw from overstimulation, but then—
Something changed.
It was different, but you couldn’t pin what—
Until you felt it.
A slow, insistent stretch at your entrance, spreading you wide, locking him inside.
Your eyes flew open.
"J-Joon—" your voice broke, fingers scrambling at his shoulders, at the sweat-slick muscles of his back. "Are you—"
Namjoon groaned, forehead dropping to yours, panting, shuddering, his hips pressing flush against you. You felt it then, how deep he was, how he couldn’t pull out.
He was knotting you.
And in no way did you ever think the first time he’d knot you would be through his honey-covered haze.
"Fucking—shit—" Namjoon moaned, voice wrecked, like the knot locking into place was breaking him just as much as it was breaking you. "Tight—s’too tight—fuck—"
Your thighs twitched, brain scrambling to catch up. It was too much, so deep, stretching you in ways you didn’t think were possible, and—
And you loved it.
"N-Joon—" you whimpered, body melting under his weight.
Namjoon groaned, pressing his lips to your jaw, kissing soft, breath heavy. "‘M sorry, baby," he mumbled, voice all warm and slurred, like he was half gone. "Didn’t mean—couldn’t—fuck—"
Your fingers buried in his hair, tugging him down until his lips met yours, and you kissed him slow, letting him feel it.
"S’fine," you murmured, a little dazed. "I wanted this."
Namjoon stilled, then whined, a deep, broken sound against your mouth, and fuck—
The knot was pulsing inside you.
Namjoon’s breath hitched as the haze finally started to lift.
His chest was heaving, sweat dripping down his temples as he slowly—slowly—came back to himself. His knot was still snug inside you, locking you together, his cock buried so deep that you could feel the faintest pulse of it against your walls.
And then you saw it.
The realization.
His eyes widened, pupils shrinking as his brain finally processed the absolute debauchery he had just put you through.
He went still. Completely, utterly still.
You could see it, the way he was replaying everything in his head—the honey, the licking, the way he had practically ravaged you in a sugar-induced frenzy like some sort of feral beast.
His face was turning redder by the second.
"Oh… oh my fucking God," Namjoon croaked, voice hoarse with horror.
It was vindicating.
You lay there, twitching, body wrecked, filled and plugged to the absolute brim by your massive bear hybrid boyfriend—who had the audacity to look scandalized at his own actions.
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.
"Joon."
"I—" he choked, looking everywhere but at you. "I—I did not—I mean, I did, but I didn’t—"
"You absolutely did."
His hands flew to his face, groaning into them. "Holy fuck, I knotted you. While high on honey. Oh my God—"
"You did," you said cheerfully. "And it was hot."
His hands dropped.
"DO NOT ENABLE ME—"
You giggled—only to immediately wince.
Yeah, teasing him was fun, but being knotted for the first time by this giant oaf definitely took its toll. Your whole body felt wrecked, every muscle sore, and the dull, aching stretch of his still-swollen knot made you keenly aware of just how deep he was inside you.
Namjoon noticed immediately, his mortification briefly overridden by pure concern.
"Shit, baby—are you okay? Did I hurt you? I—"
"Relax, you overgrown, pervy Winnie the Pooh," you grumbled, shifting slightly and feeling just how stuffed you still were.
Namjoon choked.
"WHAT—"
You grinned, teasing, despite the fact that you were currently impaled on him like a goddamn marshmallow on a skewer. "I mean, think about it. You got high on honey, lost all control, and stuffed yourself full like a greedy little bear—"
"I'M NOT LISTENING—"
"—except instead of a honey jar, it was me."
Namjoon whimpered.
You cackled—then winced again, immediately regretting it. "Okay, laughing is a bad idea."
Namjoon panicked, hands immediately coming to rub soothing circles over your thighs. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I should’ve been more careful—"
You sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and pet me, you degenerate bear."
His lips pressed together, torn between guilt and exasperation. But then, he sighed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he continued rubbing gentle circles into your skin.
"You're terrible," he muttered.
"And yet," you murmured smugly, "you're still balls deep in me."
He made a pained sound.
It was vindicating.
