#consensual engineering

[ruthytwoshakes]

hey what do you guys think the tf2s would be if they were monsters? I like the idea of harpy sniper and vampire medic,, but there’s not a whole lot of other monster forms for the mercs.

(Besides the freaks of course but those invoke a primal fear in me)

[transmasc-malleus]

the only part of miss saigon i enjoyed

[bluewaterhigh2005]

i think when i finish lost i might have to just straight up kill myself. there's no recovering from this i'll never reach these highs again

[ezi0]

I hate to say it but I did not enjoy yakuza 6

[nomie-11]

My Clothes? Your Clothes

masterlist!

synopsis: 5 times Y/n stole Vi's clothes, and the one time Vi had to (consensually) steal them back

pairing: vi x reader

The Hoodie ‘incident’ 

The first time Y/n stole a piece of Vi’s clothes, she didn’t think too far into it. 

It had been a late night at Vi’s place. A long study session turned cuddle session turned fucking session that didn’t give Y/n the opportunity to go back home to get some sleep in her own apartment. And now Y/n was running late—again. Piltover University’s Department of Science and Engineering was relentless with their 8:00 a.m. lectures, and in Y/n’s rush to leave after oversleeping comfortably in Vi’s arms, she snagged the first thing she could find to throw over her tank top: Vi’s navy blue hoodie with ‘Piltover University Women’s Hockey’ splayed across the front in white and gold text. 

Y/n hadn’t even realized she had taken Vi’s hoodie until she was halfway across campus. The hoodie was comfortable, oversized, smelling faintly of Vi’s citrusy cologne and the laundry detergent her father still dropped off because ‘Vi would forget to use soap otherwise.’ Y/n decided it wasn’t worth turning back. 

Later that night, when Vi showed up for their gym time, she crossed her arms and smirked. “So… any reason you’re parading around in my favorite hoodie, cupcake?” 

Y/n flushed, but the grin on her face was both evil and radiant. “It was cold, and I was late.” 

Vi laughed, but pulled Y/n in by the waist, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “You look cute, keep it.”

2. Perfect sized sweatpants

The second time Y/n helped herself to Vi’s clothes, it was less about need and more about temptation. 

Vi’s sweatpants were infamous in Y/n’s mind. Every time Y/n saw her lounging around in them, they hung low on her hips, slung in that perfect way that revealed a teasing glimpse of her toned abs and the waistband of her boxer briefs. Y/n had always wondered if the magic was in the sweatpants herself, not the Vi’s v-line was irresistibly attractive. 

So one lazy Sunday, when Vi was out running errands and Y/n had stayed behind to work on her and Jayce’s aerospace project, she gave in. She rifled through Vi’s dresser, pulling out the dark gray sweatpants she’d been eyeing. 

Sliding them on, Y/n realized immediately they were way too big. The waistband hung dangerously low on her hips, and every step threatened to send them sliding even lower. But damn, were they comfortable. 

By the time Vi got home, Y/n was sprawled on the couch, laptop on her lap, wearing Vi’s sweatpants and a cropped tee. She didn’t notice the faint blush creeping up Vi’s cheeks when she walked in. 

“Uh… cupcake?” Vi’s voice cracked slightly. “You… comfortable there?” 

Y/n looked up from her lecture, grinning. “These? So comfy. You might not get them back.” 

Vi’s gaze dropped for a second, catching the hint of lacy black peeking out from the waistband. She quickly looked away, clearing her throat. “Yeah, uh… keep ‘em. They look good on you.” 

Y/n smirked, knowing exactly what caught Vi’s eyes. “You’re the best, babe.” 

Vi muttered something about going to get a drink of water and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Y/n grinning triumphantly. 

3. The tank top that burnt dinner

The third time was entirely accidental—or so Y/n claimed. Vi had left one of her gym tanks at Y/n’s place after a sweaty training session, and it had ended up in Y/n’s laundry when she did it for the week. By the time she realized it wasn’t hers, she was already wearing it. 

The tank was loose and cut wide on the sides, designed to give Vi full mobility when throwing punches. On Y/n it was long, the oversized armholes dipped low, showing off the soft lavender lace bralette she had on underneath. 

When Vi came over to Y/n’s apartment that evening, Y/n was making dinner in the kitchen, still wearing the tank. She didn’t hear Vi come in—she had given her a spare key two months ago—but she had definitely heard the low whistle from the doorway. 

“Damn, cupcake. You trying to kill me?” 

Y/n turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Vi gestured vaguely at the tank. “That. You’re gonna make me burn dinner, and I’m not even cooking.” 

Y/n glanced down, realizing just how much of her bralette was visible. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. “You like?” 

Vi didn’t answer with words. Instead, she strode forward, closing the distance between them in three long steps. Her hands found Y/n’s hips, pulling her close as their bodies pressed together. 

“You know I do,” Vi murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her fingers toyed with the hem of the tank, brushing against the soft bare skin underneath. “You’re lucky I have self-control, cupcake.” 

Y/n tilted her head up, her smile turning daring. “Oh? Prove it.” 

Vi’s smirk widened, and she leaned down, capturing Y/n’s lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It started soft but quickly deepened, Vi’s grip on Y/n’s waist tightening as her tongue teased against Y/n’s. Y/n sighed into the kiss, her hands sliding up Vi’s arms to loop around her neck, pulling her even closer. 

The simmering pot on the stove gurgled in protest, but neither of them paid it any mind. Vi’s hands traveled upward, brushing against the soft fabric of Y/n’s bralette, her fingers lightly grazing her sides. Y/n gasped against her lips, the sound sending a jolt of heat through Vi’s chest. 

Vi gently pushed Y/n back against the counter, her lips trailing down Y/n’s jaw and to her neck, where she pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made Y/n’s knees wobble. Y/n tangled her fingers in Vi’s short, soft hair, tugging lightly, which earned her a low groan from the taller woman. 

“You’re impossible,” Y/n breathed, her voice shaky with a mix of laughter and pure, hot desire. 

Vi grinned against her neck. “And you’re wearing my tank. Fair trade.” 

Another kiss, deeper and more urgent this time, and Y/n arched into her, lost in the moment—until the sharp sizzle of something boiling over on the stove broke through the haze. 

“Shit!” Y/n yelped, pulling away and scrambling to turn the burner off. The pot bubbled angrily, sauce spilling over the edges, and Y/n grabbed a towel to clean up the mess. 

Behind her, Vi leaned against the counter, her lips red and her expression smug. “Told you dinner was gonna burn,” she teased. 

Y/n shot her a glare, but the blush on her cheeks and the swelling on her lips betrayed her. “Maybe if you weren’t so distracting…” 

Vi snorted and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s waist from behind, her chin resting on Y/n’s shoulder. “I’m the distracting one? Cupcake, you were begging to be kissed in this tank.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Guess we’re ordering takeout.” 

“Perfect,” Vi murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Leaves more time for dessert.” 

4. Leather jackets and Vi’s cologne

It was raining—hard. Y/n had forgotten her umbrella at the library, and by the time Y/n had run all the way to the hockey rink to pick up Vi after practice, she was soaked through. 

“You’re gonna get sick,” Vi scolded, shrugging off her leather jacket and draping it over Y/n’s shoulders. 

Y/n clutched it tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and Vi’s cologne. “You’re my hero.” 

The jacket dwarfed her, the sleeves hanging well past her hands. But as Vi walked home, holding her umbrella between the two of them, she couldn’t help but sneaking glances at Y/n, who was snuggled into the jacket like it was the coziest thing in the world. 

“You look good in that,” Vi admitted as they rounded the corner to Caitlyn’s apartment complex for a study session. 

Y/n grinned. “I know.” 

5. Soft punk wannabe beanie

It wasn’t technically clothes, but it still counted. 

Vi had a favorite beanie—a soft black knit one she wore religiously in the winter. Y/n had always teased her about it, calling her a ‘soft punk wannabe.’ 

But one particularly cold morning after Y/n had spent the night at Vi’s apartment, Y/n swiped it on her way out the door. She was freezing, and her own hat was nowhere to be found (Powder took it on her way out of the door last night by accident after bothering Vi for three hours). 

When Vi met up with her and Jayce later that day, she didn’t say anything at first. She just smirked, watching Y/n pull the beanie further down over her ears. 

“Comfy?” Vi asked. 

“Very,” Y/n replied, unbothered. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Vi said, but the affection in her tone was impossible to miss. 

+1. The jeans rescue

The one time Vi had to steal something back, it was a matter of survival. 

Y/n had somehow ended up with Vi’s favorite jeans. How that happened was still a mystery, but now Vi was standing in her closet, staring at an empty shelf where her jeans should have been. 

“I’m coming over,” she texted Y/n. 

Y/n replied instantly: Kk. Why?

“You’ve got my jeans and I’m out of clothes.” 

When Vi showed up, Y/n was standing on the coffee table, taking in an overhead view of her physics notes sprawled across the floor, wearing the jeans in question. They were a little loose on her, the cuffs rolled up at the ankles, but she looked so effortlessly cute that Vi almost didn’t want to take them back. 

Key word being almost. 

“Alright, cupcake, hand ‘em over,” Vi said, crossing her arms. 

Y/n looked over, an evil grin on her face. “Take them off of me,” 

Vi’s smirk widened at Y/n’s challenge. “Oh, cupcake, you’re playing a dangerous game,” she said, her voice low and teasing as she stepped closer. 

Y/n tilted her head, feigning innocence while backing up slightly. “What? You said you needed your jeans, come and get them.” 

Vi closed the distance in a single stride, her hands landing firly on Y/n’s hips. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” her voice was a low rasp, full of amusement and affection. 

“Maybe,” Y/n quipped, her voice dropping a bit, “but you like it.” 

Vi’s hand slid to Y/n’s waist, gripping just enough to keep her in place. “Oh, I love it,” she murmured before scooping Y/n up in one swift motion, earning a surprised squeal. 

“Vi!” Y/n laughed, swatting at her shoulder as Vi carried her bridal-style toward the bedroom. 

“You told me to take them off, so I’m just following orders,” Vi teased, kicking the door shut behind them. She set Y/n down gently on the bed, pausing to let her catch her breath. Her gaze lingered on Y/n, taking in the way her low-rise jeans sat on her hips, the soft curves and lines of her waist, hips, and thighs that made her want to forget everything else. 

Y/n propped herself up on her elbows, her smile shifting from playful to something more inviting. “Well?” she prompted, raising a brow. “You gonna follow through, or were you bluffing?”

Vi leaned down, bracing herself with one arm on the bed while her free hand slid to Y/n’s waistband. “Cupcake, you know I don’t bluff,” her fingers deftly undid the button and tugged down the zipper, the sound filling the room like a signal bell. She kissed Y/n, soft at first, then deeper, her hand gently guiding the jeans down Y/n’s thighs. 

The denim slid easily, revealing more of Y/n’s skin with each movement. Vi broke the kiss, her lips trailing down Y/n’s jaw, her neck, and lower still, her breath warm against Y/n’s skin. She pressed kisses to the inside of Y/n’s thigh, her voice low and gravelly as she murmured, “you keep stealing my clothes, cupcake, and I’ll keep finding excuses to take them back.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in Vi’s hair as her laughter melted into a soft gasp. “Maybe that’s the plan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. 

Vi grinned against her skin, her hands sliding up to hold Y/n steady. “My smart girl,” she said, her lips moving in a slow deliberate path up Y/n’s thigh. “Let’s see how far this plan takes you.”

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[immaculatasknight]

A walk around the park

[itsnesss]

how about a jun ho smut fic? :) where he stops reader cuz she’s not wearing a helmet and she flirts with him to not give her a ticket but the second time this happens she tries to do the same thing but he wants more? :)) lets just say that they take their little adventure to reader’s house and they literally just fuck

tyy <333

𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, evade the law?, sexual tension, consensual sex, power dynamics, oral sex, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The roar of your motorcycle engine reverberates against the buildings as you glide through the streets of Seoul. The wind brushes your face and messes up your hair, but you don’t wear a helmet. You hate how it ruins your style, even though you know it’s foolish. Despite that, you feel an unparalleled freedom, as if you could escape everything.

But your momentary euphoria comes to a screeching halt when you see red and blue lights reflected in the side mirrors. You curse under your breath as you slow down and park by the curb. A police officer approaches slowly.

He’s tall, with perfectly combed dark hair and a face straight out of a K-drama. His deep, serious eyes lock onto yours with a mix of disapproval and authority, forcing you to look away for a second.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asks, his voice firm but not hostile.

You know perfectly well, but you decide to play innocent. “For an excess of style?” you reply, flashing a coquettish smile.

He doesn’t smile. He takes out his ticket book and starts writing.

“For not wearing a helmet. It’s dangerous for you and others.”

You lean slightly toward him, letting your leather jacket slide a bit to reveal your collarbone. You look at him with eyes full of feigned innocence.

“Come on, officer, it’s not that serious. I promise I’ll wear a helmet next time. Do we really need to do this?”

Hwang Jun-ho, according to the name on his badge, sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s not going to work.” He hands you the ticket, ignoring your blatant attempts.

Your smile fades. You take the ticket, feigning a pout as you start your motorcycle again. Before leaving, you cast him one last glance. “What a waste,” you think as you ride away.

A few days later, fate plays another cruel trick on you. You’re speeding through downtown, once again without a helmet, when you see those familiar lights behind you.

You sigh and pull over, already knowing who it is. And there he is, wearing the same serious expression, as if he’s tired of you but also entertained by your brazenness.

“Again?” he says, crossing his arms over his uniform.

You step off the bike, letting your boots make a deliberate noise against the pavement. You walk toward him, this time with more confidence.

“I guess I just can’t help running into you, Officer Hwang. Maybe it’s destiny.”

He doesn’t respond, but you notice his jaw tighten slightly. You lean in, letting yourself invade his personal space.

“You should let me off this time. You already gave me a ticket, remember?” Your fingers lightly brush the edge of his badge.

This time, something in his gaze shifts. It’s not quite a smile, but his lips curve slightly.

“Do you really think flirting with me is going to get you out of this?”

“Maybe.” You bite your lower lip, knowing you’re playing with fire.

Jun-ho puts away his ticket book. It surprises you, but before you can celebrate your small victory, he leans toward you. His face is dangerously close, and his voice drops to a near whisper.

“If you’re going to play, make sure you know the rules.”

Your heart races as you try to figure out if he’s joking or as serious as always. You decide to take your chances.

“And what are the rules, officer?”

His smile widens, but he says nothing. Instead, he hands you a card with his phone number.

“Call me if you decide you’re ready to play for real.”

Before you can respond, he walks away, leaving you frozen on the sidewalk.

That same night, you can’t get his face out of your head. You decide to text him. You don’t have much to lose.

You: “What kind of game did you have in mind, officer?”

The reply comes minutes later.

Jun-ho: “Are you home?”

Your stomach flips.

You: “Yes. Why?”

Jun-ho: “I’m coming over.”

Your heart pounds as you rush to tidy up your apartment. You have no idea what you’re doing, but there’s something about him that intrigues you too much to stop.

When you hear a knock at the door, your breath catches. You open it, and there he is, still partially in uniform, but without the jacket and with his tie slightly loosened.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” you say, trying to keep your composure.

“You texted me first.” He closes the door behind him, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.

There’s a palpable tension in the air, and as you step toward him, you both know neither of you plans to stop.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hands, strong and assured, find your waist and pull you closer. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he guides you toward the couch.

“Is this part of the rules?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

Jun-ho smiles against your neck, his voice low and full of desire.

“We make the rules. What matters is that we both agree".

You smile, but you no longer have the composure to joke. Your body responds to his presence, desiring him more with each passing moment.

You slide your hands over his torso, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He grunts as he removes his shirt, his eyes shining with desire when he sees you already naked in his arms.

His fingers move closer to your chest, playing with your nipples and making them harden. You moan, leaning towards him and desperately seeking his mouth. He gives you a stronger kiss, their tongues intertwining as he caresses you.

A second later, your pants fall to your feet, and your boots hit the floor. Jun-ho slides down, kissing every inch of your skin with a perfect combination of tenderness and desire.

He reaches for your black panties and pulls them down with an expert motion. He tosses them aside, bringing his face closer to your pussy.

"I want to see you," he says, his black eyes shining.

You don't know what to expect, but then he starts licking you with small flicks of his tongue. You moan when his mouth meets your clitoris, his lips surrounding it. Your breathing becomes irregular as you melt in his arms, your hands in his hair as he licks you more and more. Your stomach beats hard, the tension in your body growing with each second until you explode in his mouth, a torrent of pleasure that leaves you trembling.

But he doesn't stop there. He gets up, his fingers slipping two of them into your pussy while he licks you, your body reacting once more, the tension inside you growing until you're about to come for the second time.

"Do you like it?" he says, looking at you with his dark and bright eyes, his voice full of confidence as he sits on your couch.

You moan as you straddle him. You see him lower his pants, his cock hard and ready for you. You touch it, feeling its thickness and warmth in your fingers. He sighs, his eyes closing for a second before looking at you with more passion than before.

"Put it inside," he says, his voice a plea.

You obey, lowering yourself onto his cock and feeling it make its way into your pussy. Your breath catches for a moment as you adjust to him, but soon you're moving, his thighs between yours as you rock back and forth on his member.

His mouth finds yours, a desperate kiss while he caresses you. His fingers play with your nipples, making them harden while he fucks you, your breath quick and shallow.

His arms wrap around your body, pulling you tighter to him as he fucks you harder and faster, your pussy adjusting to his thickness.

"You are so fucking hot" he says, growling in your ear. "So fucking sexy".

You laugh as you speed up, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure grow in your body. Jun-ho moans, his fingers gripping your hips and pulling you down once more.

"Jun-ho..." you say, your voice a moan, pleasure a torrent within you.

He kisses you, his eyes meeting yours in a moment of passion and connection. You feel yourself falling onto him once more, the tension building until you explode, your muscles contracting around his cock.

He moans, his body trembling beneath you. You have the impression that it's not what he expected, but he can't stop either. A second later, he comes inside you, his fingers digging into your skin as he gasps against your face.

You are sitting on him for a moment, wrapping your arms around his body while you wait for him to calm down. Finally, you slide to the side, his fingers caressing your breasts with a gentle and slow touch.

"I think I should never wear a helmet again," you say, smiling against his chest.

Jun-ho laughs, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth that makes you feel safe and calm.

"No, of course not, you will use it" he says, stroking your hair.

You laugh in turn, knowing that perhaps, after all, the freedom you have always been looking for was there, waiting for you on a street in Seoul.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Dirty Daddy

Dbf/daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2,489

Summary: Congratulations, you've just earned yourself a daddy, albeit not for being a good girl.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, light consensual choking, light slapping, oral receiving m!&f!, fingering, implied age gap, mentions of the names 'slut, brat, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl, and daddy', Joel's all greasy and sweaty.

Notes: it was this picture that inspired this along with part of a request I received that I'm writing a different daddy!fic for. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider

Joel groans as he tightens a bolt on his truck, sweat drips down his forehead and mixes with the dirt and grease that cover his face and hands. He's been working on this truck for hours, ever since it broke down on him during a job, his last job of the day. He could be home relaxing. Instead, he's here. Luckily for him, his buddy, your dad offered him the use of his garage to work on it, and Joel gladly accepted. It wasn't often that he got the chance to work on his baby, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like a broken engine get in his way.

But as he stands up and stretches his aching back, he can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It isn't just the truck that’s been giving him trouble - it’s you, who's been teasing him mercilessly since he arrived. Wearing those skimpy clothes, that short fucking skirt, that leaves little to the imagination, bending over in front of him and "accidentally" brushing up against him as you walk by. Joel's been trying to ignore you, but it's getting harder and harder to do so.

As if on cue, you walk into the garage with a smirk on your face. "Hey Joel, need any help?" You ask, leaning over the open hood, letting your cleavage do most of the talking.

Joel grits his teeth as he looks up straight at your breasts and then quickly back down to the engine. "No, I got it.” he says as he looks up once more only to see you pouting, but Joel can see the spark in your eye. You're enjoying this, you fucking minx.

"Come on, Joel. I'm just trying to help." You reach up to adjust yourself on the hood of the truck, giving him a clearer view of your breasts that are now pretty much popping out of your top. You catch his gaze and smirk, knowing exactly what you're doing to him. You hop down and start touching his arm, “cmon, I can help, I'll hold the flashlight or something.”

Joel snaps, dropping the tool he's holding, and pushes you roughly against the nearest free wall. His grip is tight around your arms despite being all greased up from his truck. "I know what you're doin'," he growls, "And it ain't gonna work."

You can see the fire in his eyes, and you know you've pushed him too far. But instead of backing down, you challenge him. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Joel's eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in his muscles. "I'm warnin’ you," he says, his voice gets deeper and quieter. "Stop, or you're gonna get a lot more than you bargained for."

"Is that a promise?" you ask.

Joel's eyes go dark, and he grabs your face roughly, his dirty fingers grasping into the hollows of your cheeks, pulling you close, leaving his musky, grimy scent on you. "You have no idea what you're gettin’ yourself into, do ya?” Joel's grip on your face tightens as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your face. "You think you're being clever, huh? Lemme tell ya something, sweetheart. You're playin with fire, and you're gonna get burned."

You can feel the heat radiating off of Joel's body, and you know he's serious. But instead of being afraid, you're turned on. You've never seen this side of Joel before, and you can't help but feel yourself getting wet.

Without warning, Joel grabs you by the waist and pins you harder against the wall as he grinds himself against you, his hardness pressing into your core. "This whatcha want babygirl?" His lips brush against your ear. "You've been teasin' me all day, I think it's my turn to have a little fun now."

You moan as Joel's hands roam over your body, roughly groping your breasts and ass, leaving dark stains across your clothes. You can feel his cock straining against his pants, and you can't wait to feel him inside of you.

"Please," you whimper, "I need it."

Joel smirks as he pulls away from you. "Beggin already?" He says, 'That ain’t like you."

He reaches down and unzips his pants, pulling out his long, hard cock and starts to stroke it. "On your knees," he commands.

You don't hesitate, sinking to your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently as you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel's eyes darken as he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head towards his cock. "Open wide, and don't fuckin’ bite."

You comply, opening your mouth wide as Joel slides his cock inside. You moan as you feel him hit the back of your throat, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you suck him off.

Joel groans as he fucks your mouth, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into the very back of your throat. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your tongue.

"Such a good little slut, suckin my cock like a pro."

You moan around his cock, your pussy getting wetter with every thrust.

"M’gonna come baby, and you're gonna swallow every last drop."

You nod eagerly, your mouth still wrapped around his cock. Joel groans as he explodes inside of you, his hot seed filling your mouth as you swallow every last drop just like he said. He pulls out, his cock still hard as he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. "Good girl, you earned that."

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before he walks over and starts to clear off the workbench. He pushes aside tools and spare parts, making enough space for you. Once he's satisfied, he turns to you with a stern look in his eyes. "Get up here," he commands, patting the now-clear space on the workbench.

You don't hesitate, hopping up onto the bench and spreading your legs wide for him. Joel steps between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to the edge. "You've been a brat all day, teasin' me and temptin me," his fingers dig into your skin.

Joel's gaze is intense as he looks at you. His eyes are filled with desire and a hint of something darker. He leans in closer, his breath is hot on your skin as he starts to kiss a trail down your body, his lips leave a burning sensation in their wake.

His hands roam over your body, roughly groping anything he can as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. You can feel his facial hair scratching against your sensitive flesh, and it sends shivers down your spine.

When he reaches your thighs, Joel smirks and spreads your legs wider, exposing your wet and aching core to his gaze and no panties - you drive him crazy. "You've been teasin' me all day, s’only fair. I get to taste what I've been missin.” He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your pussy. Without warning, Joel starts to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he teases you. You moan loudly, your hips bucking up towards his mouth as you try to get closer to him.

Joel's fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your pussy, sucking and licks at your wetness. Lapping it up like a thirsty dog. He continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your wetness as you moan and writhe beneath him. Just as you feel yourself getting close to the edge, Joel pulls away, leaving you wanting and needy.

"Uh-uh I ain't done with ya."

You whimper in frustration, and your hips buck up towards him as you try to get him to continue. But Joel is in control, and he's not going to let you come that easily. He stands up and looks down at you. You can see the hardness of his cock that's been tucked back into his jeans, and you know he's just as turned on as you are.

Joel reaches down and helps you off the workbench, his grip on you is firm as he leads you towards the door of the garage. "We're gonna finish this in your bedroom.”

Your body is still tingling with desire as you follow him out of the garage and towards your house.

As you reach the door of your house, Joel turns to you with a serious look in his eyes. "We gotta be quiet, go make sure the coast is clear.”

You quickly and quietly make your way through the house, checking each room to make sure no one is around. When you reach your father's office, you see that he's deeply engrossed in his work, completely unaware of what's happening just a few feet away.

You give Joel a quick nod, signaling that the coast is clear. Joel grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs to your bedroom, his grip firm, and reassuring. When you reach your bedroom, Joel pushes you inside and closes the door behind you, locking it to ensure that no one will interrupt you.

Joel looks around your bedroom, his eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. He turns to you, "Take off your clothes," he commands.

You hesitate for a moment, your hands hovering over your shirt. But the look in Joel's eyes tells you that he's not in the mood for games. As you slip out of your shirt, Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the lacy bra that barely covers your breasts.

"Keep goin,"

As you slip out of your jeans, Joel's eyes follow the movement, taking in the curve of your hips and the softness of your thighs.

"Take it all off baby," he commands.

You comply, slipping out of your bra and panties, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

Joel undresses himself, his movements quick and efficient. He pulls off his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his chest and arms. His jeans follow, revealing the long and hard cock that's been tucked away, waiting so patiently for you.

You can't help but stare as Joel undresses, your eyes taking in the dirt and grease that cover his body. He's been working on his truck all day, and the evidence is clear on his skin.

"Like whatcha see, babygirl?"

You nod, unable to speak as you take in the sight of him. Joel steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch your body. His fingers leave dark stains across your skin, the evidence of his work still present.

He lays you down on the bed, and his body hovers over yours. His hands roam over your body. His touch is rough, but there's a tenderness to it that drives you crazy.

He leans down to kiss you, his lips rough against yours. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch as he tastes you. You can taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what he's done to you.

Joel's hand moves between your legs, his fingers exploring your throbbing clit. He teases you, his fingers circling your clit but never quite touching it. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up towards his hand.

"Please, Joel," you beg, "I need to come."

But Joel is relentless, continuing to tease you just like you did to him, as he watches you squirm beneath him. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building deep inside of you.

“Joel,” you whine, “don't be an asshole, let me come.”

Joel chuckles and gives you a light but sobering smack to the cheek. “You don't get to be a little brat and get your way - Beg for it.”

"Fuck you-," you whimper, your voice trembling with need. "Please daddy.”

Joel's eyes blaze as he hears you call him Daddy. He increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers moving faster and harder as he brings you closer to the edge again, he can feel it. "You like that, babygirl?" his breath is hot as he leans close to your ear. "You like it when Daddy teases you?”

“Mmm, yes daddy yes. Feels s-so good.”

Joel can't hold back any longer. He positions himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your wet and aching core. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust and something darker. He growls as he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself deep inside of you.

You moan loudly as you feel him fill you up, your pussy stretching to accommodate his ever growing, ever hardening size. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into you. Each thrust is harder than the last, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Joel's hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. His fingers dig into your skin. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your sensitive flesh.

"You like it when Daddy fucks ya like the dirty little brat you are?"

You moan in response, your hips buck up to meet his thrusts. You can feel your orgasm building deep inside of you. “Want you to choke me daddy, please.”

Joel doesn't hesitate, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach. He grabs your hair, pulling your head back as he wraps his other hand around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You moan as you feel his cock press against your entrance once again. He thrusts forward, filling you up completely. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you.

You can feel your orgasm building once again, your body tensing up as you get closer and closer to the edge. "Not yet, babygirl, fuck - wanna come with ya.” Joel increases his pace. His thrusts become erratic as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, your orgasm just on the edge.

"Come for me, baby," Joel commands.

Your moans are muffled and strained as you feel yourself fall over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You can feel your pussy clenching around Joel's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

Joel groans as he feels you come, his hips thrusting forward as he empties himself inside of you. He collapses beside you, his body spent and satisfied.

As he catches his breath, Joel looks at you with a satisfied smirk. "Next time you pull that shit, babygirl, I ain't gonna letcha come."

[beardedjoel]

oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy. 

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks. 

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight. 

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing. 

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for. 

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him. 

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man. 

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling. 

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward. 

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you. 

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle. 

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little. 

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him. 

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch. 

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you. 

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away. 

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches. 

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now. 

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are. 

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch. 

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants. 

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied. 

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you. 

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to. 

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit. 

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further. 

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy. 

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting. 

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core. 

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff. 

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon. 

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago. 

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward. 

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you. 

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin.  Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months. 

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking. 

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air. 

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself. 

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you. 

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you. 

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking. 

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words. 

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be. 

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

[hexhomos]

Dropping into the Mel convo to add that I don't see how the stans that erase/ignore the Things She Actually Does And Says and claim she was just helping Jayce out of the goodness of her heart can claim that anyone pointing out that she's a billionaire imperialist who manipulated him for her own gain is racist when THEY'RE the ones claiming she spent all of season 1 helping a nonblack man for. idk. reasons. Why is it "better" for her to be a Black woman who supported a man and asked for nothing in return...?

That reading of her makes everything with her mother make no sense. Is she like, just mad her mom is interfering with her ability to Support and Love Jayce? Lmao.

The reading that the text and the inherent set up of the politics of Piltover/Zaun supports is a complex woman with her own personal motivations, wanting to live up to the image of the family she believes shunned her on her own (nonviolent) terms, using the craft of social engineering (manipulation, etc) within the political and economic sphere rather than through weaponry and warfare. She starts to shift due to growing some actual attachment to Jayce, but it's not a perfect switch flip, and then her mother arriving forces Mel to contend with what she had actually been doing by "preparing" the city for her family.

That's infinitely more interesting than "oh she just helped this guy out of the kindness of her pure heart and because he's hot" and also has canonical basis that can be pointed to In The Text. That's a complicated, multifaceted character. The fanon Mel who just helped Jayce because she's a good person is a flat, tired trope.

And personally, I find people who "love" characters but have completely inaccurate readings of them to be far more annoying than people who "hate" characters but understand them perfectly. Love/hate is just a matter of taste. If someone can spend time honestly analyzing a character, that's more important than ten thousand blandly positive comments or tweeted out fanfictions dressed up as appreciation.

Paragraph #2 on this actually blindsided me like I could kiss you on the cheek (consensually) rn I've never been able to properly articulate WHY the take rankled me so much even when I tried to see it from a completely best-possible-intentions perspective. And this gets it. It's like you're not even flattening her into a girlboss caricature, it's worse, you're actually making her a 2D saccharine pastry servant with no will of her own except furthering some man's narrative as his mommy and denying the one massive, defining character conflict Mel has in the entire show: she is her mother's daughter! She IS a wolf in sheepskin!

When you have all this power, all this privilege and resources at your disposal from day 1, and you choose to look the other way - what happens then? Is this really being kinder than her mother? Is this being merciful, or just prolonging a sort of system-wide torture? It's absolutely relevant to how we see kid-Mel in that flashback from s1 too. Her idea of mercy and salvation from her mother's more violent ends is to enslave someone. She puts it in gentle terms and dresses it up fancily as a beneficial thing to both parties, but that is what she is proposing, in the context of the Noxus' hostile invasion of Ionia; they'd chain that princess and mold her in training until she became an useful asset in their service. Is that kindness? Is that good? I don't think Mel is able to answer to this even in her big age during season 1.

She certainly thinks it could be, when compared to death, but it's also a lie she tells herself while she ignores the rest of the world and the place she holds within it. Mel hates getting her hands dirty, because she's never /had/ to do that to enjoy the brilliant spoils of success; her mother loves her enough to make sure she could avoid the bloodshed. She carries the strategist's fallacy of thinking whole wars and countries can be managed from the privileged seats up top, out of touch with the blood and gristle. From up there, when people die you don't see it. You can mark the numbers off as necessary collateral damage in the path to Exponential Growth.

The core assumption that has always bothered me is defining this as 'kindness' without actually examining what it says about her character and the story. She was created that way for a reason. She was clothed in this way for a reason. The first fact we learn about Mel in the first episode she appears in is that she is the richest person in the entire city, and then there is a 10 year timeskip, and she hasn't truly done anything to address or prop up the undercity at all (they are ONE city too, under her own philosophy; Zaun is only a separate entity in the mouths of the zaunites who want freedom.) In that context, when her goal of statecraft clearly is to continue advancing Piltover as much as it can be advanced and do nothing about the screaming bleeding diseased dying hordes below the bowels of her capital - is that goodness? Is that really better than mother? I think Mel's arc is about finding out really quickly and really horrifically that it isn't, and that she played a big part in making a lot of things worse.

It's not that she failed at her job, it's quite the opposite. She succeeded in her mission so incredibly well her mother could swoop into power in a single day and then put another hundred necks to the blade, no sweat, and Mel has to reckon with what that says about her, and what she thought of herself. The power she has obviously always had and never sought to use as it Should have been used.

The idealistic future-path here is that now in full control of her Mother's armies, she's returning to Noxus to challenge the predatory system it perpetuates on a world scale, but only god knows what we'll see come January. And all of this is infinitely more interesting to me than docile fandomized ship accessory n.9999

[tteotlma]

Body and Soul

mirror sex • orgasm denial  • amnesia

Logan/Reader (5kw)

a/n: im really obsessed w this man rn... its kinda sick

tw: NSFW 18+ MDNI, amnesia, graphic sexual content, orgasm denial, rough sex, domination and submission dynamics, emotional distress, violence, adult themes, and non-consensual situations.

---

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The mission was supposed to be straightforward—a quick extraction and takedown in hostile territory, something the team had done countless times before. But this time, something went wrong. An ambush. An explosion. The group was caught off guard, but Logan took the brunt of it. You found him afterward, battered, bleeding, and unconscious.

Dropping to your knees, you cradled him in your arms, your heart pounding with fear. His healing factor was working, but barely. The damage was severe. You gently pressed your palm to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the familiar scruff of his jaw— something you’d done countless times before, watching his body slowly knit itself back together. His body was limp in your arms, and the absence of his usual strength made your chest tighten with fear. Tears welled up in your eyes as you glanced up at Storm, who stood over you.

“Y/N—” Scott’s voice came from behind her, filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” you said through your tears, though your voice betrayed the lie. “You guys go finish the mission. I’ll take care of Logan.” Your throat tightened as you looked down at him, the memory of his rare, soft smile flashing behind your eyes. Tears spilled onto his debris-covered face as your heart ached at the sight of him so still.

“There’s a safehouse about twelve klicks north,” Storm said softly, kneeling beside you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We were supposed to stay there tonight, so it should be ready. We’ll let the others know.”

You nodded, eyes never leaving Logan’s face. His hand, the same one that had held yours with silent strength so many times before, was now motionless at his side. You gripped it tightly, as if holding onto him with everything you had left.

The team helped you carefully lift Logan into the back of an abandoned military truck. His weight—usually solid and reassuring— felt different now, heavier with the uncertainty of what might happen when, or if, he woke up. Without a word, you climbed into the driver’s seat, your hands trembling as you gripped the steering wheel.

As you drove toward the safehouse, the road stretched out endlessly before you, and all you could think about was how it used to be— the teasing banter, the quiet understanding between you, the way Logan would catch your eye and make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Now, it was all slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him—not like this. 

The drive to the safehouse was painfully quiet, the only sound being the hum of the truck’s engine and the occasional rustle of Logan’s shallow breaths. You kept glancing in the rearview mirror, your eyes fixed on his still body. Every bump in the road made your heart lurch, fearing it might jar him awake—or worse, that he’d never wake up at all.

When you finally arrived, dusk had settled over the forest, casting long shadows across the cabin’s wooden walls. You carried Logan inside, your muscles burning under the weight of his solid frame, but the adrenaline kept you moving.

Once you laid him on the plush velvet chesterfield couch, you stepped back, wiping the sweat from your brow. His chest rose and fell, slow and steady, but his face remained pale, drained of the vitality you knew so well. You knelt beside him, brushing your fingers through his unruly hair. The silence pressed down on you, the weight of everything unsaid between you making it hard to breathe.

For hours, you stayed by his side, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of his knuckles. You tried to keep your thoughts focused on the practical—his breathing, his healing factor, his injuries—but the memories kept creeping in. The way the scent of whiskey and leather always clung to him, the way his voice would drop when he whispered your name.

By the time night fully set in, the cabin had grown cold. You grabbed a blanket, draping it over Logan’s body as you settled into the chair beside the couch. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over his features. He looked peaceful, but the emptiness in your chest was anything but.

The exhaustion hits you all at once, your body aching from the stress and worry. You rested your head against the edge of the armrest beside his head, your eyes heavy as you watched his slow breathing. The sound lulled you into a half-conscious state, the kind where dreams and reality blur together.

In the fog of sleep, you dreamed of him. Not like this—not broken, lost—but strong, whole. You dreamed of the way he’d hold you close, his lips brushing against your forehead as he’d murmur reassurances. You dreamed of the nights when the world felt far away and all that mattered was the space between you. But as the dream faded, you were left with the cold truth that those moments might never come again.

Hours passed in the quiet darkness, but as the first rays of dawn began to peek through the window, you felt it—a slight movement. Your eyes snapped open, and your heart raced as you sat up, staring at Logan. His fingers twitched, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“Logan?” you whispered, leaning closer, hope flaring in your chest.

His breathing quickened, his muscles tensing beneath the blanket. For a moment, it felt like time stopped. You held your breath, waiting, watching. And then, with a low, guttural sound, his eyes fluttered open.

But the man who looked back at you wasn’t the Logan you knew. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of unspoken thoughts, were clouded with confusion. He blinked slowly, his gaze shifting around the room before landing on you. His brow furrowed deeper, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and unfamiliar.

“Who... who are you?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You’d been prepared for him to be hurt, for him to be weak—but not for this. Not for him to forget you.

“It’s me, Logan,” you said, your voice trembling. You reached out, gently touching his arm, hoping the physical contact would spark something—anything. “You know me. We’re... we’re together.”

But the confusion in his eyes didn’t clear. He shook his head, trying to sit up but falling back against the pillows, his body still too weak to move much.

“I don’t remember you,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t remember any of this.”

Your hand dropped to your side as the full weight of his words sank in. He didn’t remember. He didn’t remember you, the missions, the safehouse. The life you’d built together was gone from his mind, leaving only you to hold onto it.

“Logan, please...” You bit back the sob rising in your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He looked at you, his expression hard, but beneath it, you could see the fear in his eyes. He was lost—more than you’d ever seen him—and it broke something inside you to see him like this.

You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself, then gave him a small smile. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to make you something to eat. You need your strength.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his eyes followed you as you rose from his side. You could feel the weight of his gaze as you moved around the safehouse, doing things on instinct—things you had done so many times before. You moved through the small kitchen like it was second nature, reaching for ingredients you knew he liked: bread, meat, pickles, a little mustard. He didn’t remember you, but you still knew him—knew his preferences, his quirks.

As you worked, you glanced back at him occasionally. He was sitting up now, leaning heavily against the headboard, his brow furrowed in thought. His fingers absently traced the blanket, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he was trying to piece things together.

You brought the plate over and set it on the table in front of the sofa. He eyed the sandwich, and you saw the flicker of recognition in his expression, though he didn’t say a word.

“I... made it the way you like,” you said softly, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. “No tomatoes, extra pickles.” It was a small detail, something so simple, but it felt like an anchor—something that tied him to you in ways words couldn’t.

Logan stared at the food for a moment, then slowly reached for it. His hand shook slightly as he took a bite, chewing in silence. You watched him carefully, trying not to let your hope show too much. His face didn’t betray much, but there was a pause, a flicker of something in his eyes.

As the day stretched on, you busied yourself with small tasks around the cabin, always keeping an eye on him. You washed the dishes, cleaned up around the safehouse, and occasionally checked his wounds, though his healing factor had already taken care of most of the damage. Logan watched you quietly, his eyes following your movements, but he didn’t ask questions. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, but you didn’t push. You wouldn’t force him to remember, wouldn’t remind him of what he couldn’t grasp right now.

Instead, you just were. You existed in his space, filling the silence with small gestures. You brought him water without asking, knowing how he liked it cold but not with too much ice. When you caught him absently scratching at the bandages on his side, you didn’t say anything, just gently moved his hand away and changed the dressings, all while he sat still, watching you.

It was in these quiet moments that you could feel the pull between you, even if he couldn’t put words to it. Logan didn’t remember you, but there was something in the way his eyes softened when you brought him a clean shirt, or the way his shoulders relaxed when you sat nearby, that told you a part of him felt something. Maybe not memory—but an instinct. Something that made him feel safe with you.

Later in the day, as you prepared something for dinner—steak, lightly seasoned just the way he preferred it—you noticed him watching you again, this time more intently. His gaze lingered on the way you moved around the small kitchen, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Why are you doing all this?” Logan asked finally, his voice gruff, though not unkind.

You turned, meeting his gaze. “Because you need it. You’re still healing.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to pull a memory from deep within. “You said we’re... together.”

“We were,” you replied quietly, wiping your hands on a towel. “Before the mission. But I don’t want to push you, Logan. I just want to help you.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of it all was too much to bear. “I don’t remember any of it,” he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. “I feel like I should, but...”

You walked over to him, sitting down at the edge of the sofa again. “It’s okay,” you whispered, placing a hand gently on his arm. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to remember everything. I’m here, no matter what.”

He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you wasn’t as heavy as before. There was something softer about it now, something that felt like understanding—even if it was unspoken.

You spent the rest of the evening in quiet companionship. Logan didn’t talk much, but his eyes followed you, lingering on the small things you did. When he asked for a second helping of the steak, a flicker of surprise crossed his face when you handed him exactly what he wanted before he could even ask. He stared at the plate for a long moment, that strange pull between you growing stronger.

By the time night had fully settled over the safehouse, Logan had fallen asleep again, his breathing deep and even. You watched him for a moment, the familiar ache of love and worry pressing against your chest. He was here. He was alive. And even if he didn’t remember, even if things weren’t the same, you knew that deep down, some part of him felt you. Maybe that was enough for now.

Gently, you draped a blanket over his sleeping form on the sofa. His face was soft in sleep, the hard lines of his expression relaxing. You ran a hand over his hair, your fingers tangling briefly in the coarse strands. Without thinking, your touch lingered, sliding down from his hair to lightly caress his chest, fingertips brushing over the familiar roughness of his chest hair. The subtle rise and fall of his breathing reassured you, though a small part of you ached for more—the connection you once shared, the warmth that was missing now.

You pulled your hand back, feeling the exhaustion catching up to you as you turned away. You hadn’t left his side for days, sleeping in that uncomfortable chair, always alert in case he needed you. But tonight, you finally allowed yourself a moment to breathe.

The bathroom attached to the bedroom was just a few steps away, but it felt like a world apart. You grabbed a towel and some clean clothes from the dresser, walking quietly through the cabin to the room you hadn’t touched in days.

The moment you stepped into the bathroom, you exhaled, finally letting go of the tension you’d been carrying. The space felt foreign, untouched since you’d arrived, but it was a welcome change. You turned the water on, letting it run hot as steam began to fill the room.

Stripping out of your clothes, you stepped under the water, the heat immediately soothing your aching muscles. You stood there for a moment, eyes closed, allowing the sensation to wash over you. It was a small luxury, something you hadn’t allowed yourself since the mission had gone sideways.

As your mind began to wander, you thought of Logan—how he’d looked at you throughout the day, those moments of unspoken connection. He didn’t remember you, but his body did. You could feel it in the way he watched you, the way his eyes lingered on your movements, how his posture shifted whenever you touched him. It was instinctual, primal even, like some part of him was still tethered to you despite the amnesia.

Your thoughts drifted further, imagining what it would be like if he did remember. If he remembered the way he used to hold you close, his hands sliding over your body, rough but tender. The way his breath would hitch when he kissed your neck, how his grip would tighten when you whispered his name—

You shook your head, biting your lip to stop the thoughts from spiraling. He doesn’t even remember you, you reminded yourself harshly. The Logan you knew was still there, but he wasn’t the same—not yet. It wasn’t fair to want more from him now, to think of him that way when he was still trying to piece himself together.

With a sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. You wrapped a towel around your body, letting the warmth cling to your skin. Grabbing another towel, you began drying your hair, the soft cotton rubbing against your scalp as you stood in front of the mirror.

You wiped a hand across the fogged-up glass, revealing your reflection. Your eyes looked tired, a little red from the steam, and your cheeks were flushed. You stared at yourself for a moment, lost in thought, when you felt it—a presence behind you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his reflection in the mirror. Logan stood behind you, his body close but not touching, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was wearing a robe, loosely tied at the waist, his bare chest visible beneath the folds of fabric.

“Logan...” you whispered, gripping the towel a little tighter around yourself.

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes focused on you, his brow furrowing like he was trying to make sense of something just out of reach. Slowly, cautiously, his hands moved to your shoulders. His touch was tentative, almost as if he wasn’t sure it was okay, but he didn’t pull away when you didn’t stop him.

“I don’t remember you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, “but... my body does.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hands slid down the length of your arms, his touch both familiar and foreign at the same time. His fingers brushed over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you felt your pulse quicken.

“Logan...” You tried to speak, but your voice came out shaky, caught somewhere between desire and uncertainty. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. He was so close, and yet so far from the man you knew.

“I’ve been watching you all day,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “I don’t know why, but... something in me recognizes you.” His hands slid lower, grazing the edge of the towel around your waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “I feel it. Here.”

You met his gaze in the mirror, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, and for a moment, you didn’t care that he didn’t remember. You didn’t care that this was complicated, that things were uncertain.

All you could focus on was the way his hands felt on you, the way his body pressed closer, and the way his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Logan leaned in, his lips brushing the back of your neck, just below your hairline. The heat of his breath made your knees go weak, and you had to grip the edge of the counter to steady yourself. He moved slowly, cautiously, but there was no denying the pull between you—the connection that ran deeper than either of you could understand in that moment.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough, full of something dark and aching. His lips grazed your skin again, sending warmth flooding through you.

You nodded, unable to find the words, your eyes locked on his reflection. His hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, but before he reached for the towel around your waist, he paused. You felt him shift behind you, his breath hitching ever so slightly, and then his hands found your hips.

“Look,” he murmured, his voice gravelly as he gently moved you back against him. The hard bulge beneath his robe pressed against you, unmistakable. “I don’t know why, but my body remembers you... remembers this.”

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heat pooling low in your belly as the pressure of his arousal against your lower back sent sparks of desire through you. But even in the haze of lust, there was a flicker of hesitation. You didn’t want him to feel obligated, or forced into something he wasn’t ready for. Not when his mind was still lost.

“Logan...” You bit your lip, glancing at him in the mirror, torn between the pull of his touch and the uncertainty in your chest. “I don’t want to make you do anything. If this isn’t—”

He interrupted you, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want this,” he breathed, his voice raw with need. “I don’t know you... but I feel you.” His words were filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, and his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles over your hips, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t explain it... but it’s like you’re already a part of me.”

His words sent a rush of heat through you, and for a moment, you let yourself believe him. You could see it in his eyes—the truth of his body’s memory, the instinctive connection that defied the gaps in his mind.

Still, the hesitation lingered. “Are you sure?” you asked softly, turning your head slightly so you could meet his gaze, not just in the mirror, but face to face. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but reassuring. “You’re not,” he said, his voice rough but certain. “I don’t know why... but this feels right.” He lowered his head, his lips pressing gently to the curve of your neck, the heat of his breath setting your skin ablaze. “I know I want you... like I’ve always wanted you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and the last of your hesitation melted away as his fingers moved to the knot of your towel. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment, and when the fabric finally loosened, you felt a shiver run through you as the cool air kissed your exposed skin.

Logan’s breath quickened, his eyes darkening as he stared at you in the mirror. His hands roamed over your bare body, mapping every inch of you like he had a hundred times before—even if he didn’t remember. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the softness of your breasts, each touch sending sparks of electricity through your skin.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t recall your past. All that mattered was the present—the feel of his hands on you, the way your body responded to his touch, and the undeniable pull that drew you both together. And for the first time since this all began, you let yourself be fully immersed in the moment, trusting in what you both felt, even if his memories hadn’t yet returned.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he growled, his voice low and primal as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. The heat radiating from his body sent shivers down your spine, amplifying the desire swirling within you.

You watched him in the mirror, your heart racing as he gripped your hips, positioning you against the bathroom counter. The undeniable bulge of his arousal pressed against your back, heightening the tension between you.

“Let me show you how much I want you,” Logan murmured, his voice thick with need. He slid one hand down your body, fingers teasing along your inner thighs, inching closer to your core.

You bit your lip, anticipation building as he slipped a finger inside you, your body immediately responding to the intrusion. You gasped at the sudden sensation, your hips instinctively rolling against his hand.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and gravelly. He began to move his finger in and out, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you. The pleasure washed over you in waves, building with each thrust of his skilled fingers.

“Logan…” you breathed, unable to control the sounds escaping your lips.

He added another finger, the stretch causing you to moan louder, and he smirked at the effect he had on you. “I know you like this. I can feel how much you need it.”

The sound of his voice combined with the pleasure igniting within you made your head spin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spat lightly onto his fingers before returning them to your dripping core. The mix of sensations made you shudder, the rawness of it all sending you deeper into desire.

“More, please,” you begged, your voice a mix of desperation and need.

“Yeah? You want more of this?” he taunted, his fingers picking up speed, driving you closer to the edge. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

You nodded vigorously, your breath quickening as the pressure within you mounted. “Yes, Logan! I want it!”

“Then let go,” he commanded, and with one final thrust of his fingers, you shattered around him, cries of pleasure filling the bathroom as you rode the waves of your orgasm.

But just as you began to come down, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss. “Not yet,” he said, his voice low and dark. He pressed himself against you, rubbing his length against your backside, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

“Logan,” you breathed, glancing at him in the mirror. “I need you.”

His grip on your hips tightened, a feral look in his eyes. “I know, babe. I know.” With that, he lined himself up, pushing into you with one smooth thrust that made you gasp.

You felt him fill you completely, stretching you in a way that made you dizzy with pleasure. He was rough and demanding, each thrust echoing off the walls, a primal rhythm that ignited the air around you.

“Tell me how it feels,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck as he continued to drive into you.

“Logan, it feels amazing!” you cried out, the sound of your voices mingling in the small space, heightened by the intensity of the moment. The connection between you was electric, as if his body remembered what it meant to have you, even if his mind didn’t.

With every thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge again, your body responding to him instinctively. You locked eyes in the mirror, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away—there was only you, him, and the raw, urgent need that consumed you both.

“Don’t hold back,” he urged, a growl rumbling from deep within him. “I want to hear you scream for me.” “Logan!” you cried, the sound bursting from you as he surged forward again, the urgency of his movements pushing you closer to the brink. The world outside the bathroom ceased to exist; all that mattered was the heat between you and the primal rhythm of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

With each thrust, the pleasure spiraled higher, and the echo of your voices filled the air, mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. You felt yourself approaching the edge once more, the overwhelming sensations taking over every inch of your being.

“Logan, I’m—” you gasped, the words barely escaping your lips before the pressure released, and you fell into a wave of bliss, your body trembling as the orgasm washed over you.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, chasing his own release. With a few final thrusts, he found his own climax, his body shuddering against yours as he filled you completely. The sensation sent you spiraling deeper into ecstasy, the intensity of the moment solidifying the bond between you.

Once the pleasure subsided, you both leaned against the cool countertop, breaths mingling as you tried to come down from the high. Logan pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “We should clean up,” he murmured, his voice still heavy with lingering desire.

You nodded, a smile creeping onto your face as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the small shower. The water cascaded over you, warm and soothing, washing away the remnants of your passionate encounter. Logan joined you, his hands tenderly working the shampoo through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a gentle pressure that made you melt.

“Feels nice,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, letting the warmth of the water envelop you both.

“Good,” he replied, a small smile on his lips as he rinsed the suds from your hair. “You deserve to feel good.”

After showering, you both emerged, skin glowing and damp, the warmth of the water still lingering in the air around you. Logan grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders before pulling you into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

You felt safe and content, your heart swelling with affection. “Let’s just stay like this for a while,” you whispered, your voice soft and sleepy.

Logan nodded, his fingers tracing patterns along your back. You snuggled against him, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of tranquility. Eventually, the exhaustion from the past few days settled in, and you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his warmth.

Hours later, the soft light of dawn filtered through the window, gently stirring you from slumber. You felt a familiar warmth beside you, the solid presence of Logan. You turned to find him awake, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Y/n,” he said softly, the name rolling off his tongue like a forgotten melody. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as he took you in.

“Logan?” you asked hesitantly, your heart racing.

A slow smile spread across his face, a mixture of relief and longing. “I remember you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I remember everything.”

Your heart soared at his words, tears of joy welling in your eyes as you reached up to cup his cheek. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his thumb brushing against your wrist. “I remember us… and everything we’ve been through.”

With that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that spoke of everything unspoken—a promise, a connection, a love that had never truly faded. You melted against him, the warmth of his body and the safety of his arms reminding you that you were home.

---

a/n: Das Ende. danke

[cannedinternets]

Yanno, a thing i see a LOT in fics is that the Batfam think Danny is a meta, b/c ghosts don't exist. Which is valid, i mean they ARE a team of detectives with a shitton of wacky themed rogues and, at least on batman's part, a noted distaste for and disbelief in magic and the supernatural.

But bruce and tim have both worked with ghosts directly. (Maybe the others too? fuck there's a LOT of comics and animated series and-) So i think it would be much funnier if they think he's not a ghost, b/c Ghosts Don't Work That Way.

In fact, b/c Communication Is Not The Batman's Strong Suit, I think it's funny if all of them are wrong but for different reasons.

Bruce - has worked with Deadman. You can't see or interact with ghosts without magical outside intervention. Thinks Danny is a magic user who transforms a la Shazam/Captain Marvel.

Dick - Clown trauma? Mind control Trauma? One of your rogues tried to brainwash you to be his son/weapon? Damn kid you're like me if i had it even worse. Thinks Danny is a "regular" kid vigilante with a schtick.

Babs - Well the video evidence she can find deffo lines up with him being a super, but there's a hardcore blackout around his town, he doesn't legally exist, AND any outside info she runs into is usually cutoff by someone (tucker or technus depending), AND he's mentioned cloning. So he's probably a designer "cloned" (ugh dc that's not how cloning works) meta kid that's being taken advantage of by the government and/or cadmus.

Cass - Thinks Danny is a terrible liar (true) who is counting on the refuge in audacity to keep people from realizing what he is (also true). Thinks he's someone who got themed meta powers in a lab accident and is playing up the ghost thing b/c he fights ghosts constantly.

Jason - Glowing green eyes? Ability to manifest green constructs that look like they're made of goo? Constant death jokes? Aww, this dude is just another me but he is also a meta/somehow got anime girl powers out of getting dunked in the lazarus pits.

Tim - worked with Secret. Ghosts can fly, shapeshift, go intangible, teleport, posses people. Thinks phantom is an actual ghost that is possessing/overshadowing Danny, possibly consensually? He's looking into it. Ironically, is the closest to the truth.

Steph - Hasn't seen Danny do anything that the other bats can't do, and HAS seen him work on an engineering project for 16 hours straight. Thinks Danny is something like the bats, either under-powered or completely non-powered and makes up for it with tech and mystique. Also thinks Danny is a great ally in gremlinship.

Duke - his Ghost Sight does NOT play well with ghosts, ironically. Thinks Danny is some sort of eldritch horror with a human guise. He seems cool tho, Duke isn't gonna judge someone based on looks even if they do give him migraines.

Damian - thinks that Danny is a Pit Demon and you are all insane.

Jarro - thinks Danny is a Green Martian. Also thinks Danny is awesome.

[pucksandpower]

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[jeonhardcore]

Inside The Rolls Royce

A Forbidden Rainy Night •JJK ONESHOT

Jungkook x Yn

warning: Highly Explicit 21+ Detailed Smut

Contains : Extreme filthy/dirty talk, cowgirl, missionary, fingering, oral, cowgirl, all four, heated sucking, deep penetration, creampie, unprotected, possessive, consensual.

Word Count : 3.9k

Author Note : get ready to get drenched<3

It was raining heavily on the streets of Seoul. The sleek black Rolls-Royce glided along the Seoul highway in the night. Each raindrop over its polished exterior enhances the allure of its flawless curves.

Inside The Rolls Royce, Jeon Jungkook's grip on the wheel was strong, his knuckles strained against the wheel. With each twist and turns, his hands moved with frustration.

His dark burning gaze fixed ahead, jaw clenched with a force that mirrored the intensity of his inner turmoil.

"Jungkook, stop it! You're overreacting!" Yn's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere inside the car. Desperation laced her tone as she reached out to hold Jungkook's hand

"Jungkook slow down, what are you doing?!" Her voice was a desperate plea, barely audible over the roar of the engine.

"You know exactly what I'm doing,"

Jungkook's tone was low and dangerous as Jungkook paid her no heed, his frustration boiling as he pushed the car to its limits. "You danced with him," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You let him touch you."

It was just a dance, Jungkook," she protested, "It didn't mean anything."

Jungkook's grip on the wheel tightened, "It means everything to me," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a primal intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Jungkook, please," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The car stopped to a sudden halt, jolting both Jungkook and Yn forward in their seats. With a forceful exhale, Jungkook leaned back, his veins visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt.

The air inside the car grew thick with tension as he took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the rain-drenched road outside.

Yn sat beside him, too stunned to speak, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

She watched in silence as Jungkook leaned against the seat and with a sharp exhale, he placed a cigarette between his lips, his jaw clenching as he held it there.

He flicked open his lighter with a snap, his movements were quick, He brought it to the cigarette’s tip and then lit the cigarette.

Holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, he took a deep drag, the cigarette crackling as he inhaled sharply. Smoke filled his lungs, a bitter release for the storm brewing inside him. He exhaled forcefully, the frustration etched in every tense muscle as he took another angry pull, the ember flaring brightly as he inhaled deeply.

Yn tried to speak, “j-jungkook?” her voice trembled with emotion, but Jungkook remained silent, lost in the haze of smoke and rain.

Desperate to break the suffocating silence, Yn reached out to him, but before she could utter another word, Jungkook stepped out of the car, his frustration palpable in the way he slammed the door behind him.

Outside, the rain fell in sheets, soaking Jungkook as he closed his eyes, letting the cool water wash away the heat of his anger.

Yn wasted no time in following him, her own body soon drenched as she stood infront him,

"Jungkook, please listen to me," her voice barely audible above the sound of the rain. "Let's talk about this."

But Jungkook remained silent, his gaze fixed on the road and he continued smoking. Yn's heart ached at the sight of him.

"Please, Jungkook," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper "Look at me."

But Jungkook remained unmoved.

"My love, listen to me I'm so-," she urged, her voice growing more insistent as she reached out to him, her fingers gripping his collar in desperate for his attention.

But before she could say another word, Jungkook's lips crashed into hers with an intensity that stole her breath away. Caught off guard by his sudden passion, Yn melted into his embrace, her body trembling with a mixture of desire and relief.

The moment Jungkook’s lips met Yn's, it was as if the storm outside had found its match within them. As their lips pressed together more firmly, the kiss deepened, transforming from a tentative connection to a consuming fire.

Jungkook’s hands travelling at her sides, found their place on Yn’s waist, fingers gripping her firmly. The rain poured down, soaking them both, but neither seemed to notice. The heat of their breath mingled in the cool, rainy air.

Yn’s hands slid up to Jungkook’s neck, her fingers gripping through his wet hair, pulling him closer, urging him to give in to the raw passion. lips parting and tongues meeting in a clash of desire. His mouth moving against hers with a hunger that spoke of frustration, anger, and an unspoken need.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. She could see the fire in his gaze.

"I want you," Jungkook's voice was low and rough, each word dripping with raw desire. "Here, right now.”

Yn's breath hitched, her heart racing as she swallowed hard, before she could respond, Jungkook's tattooed hand was around her wrist, pulling her with a sudden force.

In a blink, they were inside the back of the car, the door slamming shut that cut through the noise of the storm.

With a speedy movement, Jungkook placed Yn on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their lips met.

Yn’s fingers tangled in his wet hair, her grip was tight.

Jungkook’s hands roamed over her body, one cupping her breast through the fabric of her dress. The other hand gripped her waist, fingers pressing into her skin as he drew her closer, moulding her to him with a possessive fervour. A moan escaped Yn’s lips, muffled by the heat of their kiss.

Yn’s grip on Jungkook’s hair tightened, as she kissed him back with equal intensity.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his voice a husky whisper against her lips, "𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬."

Without hesitation, Yn leaned in, her kiss more forceful, her mouth moving with a newfound hunger. Their breaths mingled, heavy and ragged.

In a swift motion Jungkook’s hands moved to the zipper of her black dress, his fingers unzipping it from behind.

Yn’s dress slipped from her shoulders, the fabric parting like a veil to reveal the soft, delicate, bare skin. Jungkook’s hands moved with a possessive grace, exploring every inch of her exposed body as he admired her beauty.

Within seconds, Yn found herself only in her innerwear, the bra clinging to her breasts as she broke the passionate kiss, tracing a path to Jungkook's earlobe.

Her lips brushing against his earlobe with feather-light licks, she teased his metal hoop earrings with delicate licks before gently sucking on them, sending shivers down his spine.

A low moan escaped Jungkook's lips, a silent plea for more as he leaned into her touch.

Suddenly, Yn's lips parted, making a sloppy sound as she began to suck on Jungkook's earlobe more intensely. His grip on her tightened,

Jungkook's lips with a soft, almost possessive kiss found a weak spot on her neck. Jungkook's teeth leave behind red marks all over her neck.

With desire blazing in her eyes, Yn met Jungkook's gaze, "𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞," she pleaded, her words laced with longing as she locked eyes with him.

Without wasting a single precious moment, Jungkook's hands moved with purpose, swiftly removing Yn's innerwear, revealing her completely naked.

He guided her gently, laying her down halfway across the backseat of the car.

As Jungkook lowered himself, his fingers tracing patterns across her skin as he worshipped every inch of her body.

Yn lay before Jungkook, her eyes reflecting an intense need.

Sensing her desire, Jungkook positioned himself between her parted legs, his gaze travelling the curve of her lower body.

Yn voiced her deepest desires. "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞," she whispered.

But Jungkook held back his eyes with a mixture of desire and control. "Not so soon, baby," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

With deliberate slowness, Jungkook's fingers trailed a path of fire along the fabric of Yn's lace panties. Gripping it, teasing and playing with it across her heated skin. As he made contact with her flesh over the fabric, a gasp escaped Yn's lips, her body arching for his touch.

A smirk tugged at Jungkook's lips as he felt the evidence of her arousal, the slickness of her desire coating his fingertips. "𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐭, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?!" he remarked, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to caress her, rubbing slowly over the soaked panties.

In that moment, Yn could do nothing but surrender to the sensation of pleasure, her body aching for him to touch there

As Jungkook's fingers continued their exploration, The slick, wet friction between his fingertips and her heated flesh sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her.

Her thick like jelly juice coated his fingers, creating an intoxicating wet sound that echoed in the car.

Yn's moans grew louder,

"𝐎𝐡𝐡, 𝐉-𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," she moaned, her words melting into the air like a whispered

With a hunger, Jungkook met her gaze,

his eyes dark with desire as he asked, "𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?" his voice a seductive whisper

"𝐲𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐬" yn gasped

Without hesitation, Yn's response was immediate, she locked eyes with him,

But Jungkook, the master of temptation, wasn't finished yet.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, he issued his challenge, "𝐁𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭," he commanded.

His words are a mixture of desire and dominance. "𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭."

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," Yn whispered, her voice thick with passion and longing. "𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲."

"𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," Jungkook replied, he obeyed, tearing apart her lace panties aggressively. Now she lay completely naked in front of him, exposed and vulnerable, with nothing left to cover her.

Jungkook began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the tattoos that adorned his arm, now fully visible. Yn couldn’t help but admire the artistry etched into his skin, captivated by every detail.

Throwing away his shirt, with a hunger Jungkook leaned in, his lips parting to envelop her most sensitive area

As Yn's moans mingled with the air as soon as Jungkook's lips touched her intimate part, her fingers entwined in Jungkook's hair, urging and pulling him closer.

As Jungkook began to lick, with each lick of his tongue, Jungkook sucked deeper into her folds, exploring every corner as he felt her wet juices cascade over him like a wave, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His jawline, his nose, his lips making contact with her sensitive flesh. His tongue moved in and out on her flesh, creating sloppy sounds. He could feel her arousal intensifying. He started suck her in a circular motion.

And as Jungkook looked up, he felt a surge of pride wash over him. "𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?" He teased while sucking on her.

Yn's lips parted in ecstasy, her moans of pleasure mingling with the rhythm of her restless breathing,

Jungkook's relentless assault continued as he inserted a finger inside her folds with deliberate ease.

A sharp gasp escaping Yn's lips as Jungkook's finger found her sensitive

G-spot. He started circling that spot intensely while continuing sucking with tongue and moving his finger deep inside. his movements were skilled

"𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠... 𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐞𝐬!" she moaned, her voice a desperate plea for more.

He sucked on her clit, his tongue flicking and swirling, driving her wild with sensation.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐦 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞," he said between licks, his voice rough with desire.

His finger moving with a wild abandon

Suddenly, there was another finger, sliding inside her with a delicious friction that made her cry out in ecstasy.

Her body shook with the intensity of it, her grip on his hair tightened.

"𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐲𝐞𝐬! 𝐲𝐞𝐬!" she moaned, her words a mantra of desire as Jungkook drove her closer to the edge.

Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more, craving more.

𝐀𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐠𝐠𝐠!!! 𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬!! Yn's breaths quickened, her body on the edge of release as the climax surged within her.

"𝐈-𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤," she gasped, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Yet, Jungkook, consumed by desire, wasn't prepared to let her surrender just yet.

With a low growl, he silenced her, his need. "𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞,"

In a swift motion, he unzipped his pants & freed himself from the confines of his pants and boxers.

His hard arousal thick and throbbing with need, aching to be buried deep inside her warmth.

Every vein stood out against his manhood. the length of his shaft, as if yearning to be touched, to be caressed by the hands of his lover.

Yn couldn't help but marvel at the sight before her. Jungkook's hard cock glistened with the promise of wild pleasure, the tip so red, swollen and eager, begging to get inside her warmth.

The veins of his hardness were clearly visible, pulsing with intensity.

With a firm grip, he pulled Yn onto his lap, her thighs around his hips,

"𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲," he moaned, his voice thick with desire as he locked gazes with her, his eyes burning with intensity.

Yn's hand grabbed his shoulder as she slowly lowered herself onto him, Jungkook watched, his breath hitching in his throat, as her silken wet core tried to take his large length inside.

"𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭," he teased, a smirk gracing his lips

With a sudden forceful thrust, he buried himself deep within her,

A cry of pleasure from Yn's lips. "𝐎𝐡, 𝐉𝐤!!!" she shouted with pleasure.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠," Jungkook urged, his own moans mingling with hers.

Jungkook watched how his hard member was disappearing inside Yn, a pleasurable satisfaction coursing through him.

His grip tightened on her waist, guiding her movements.

while his other hand cupped her breast. With a hunger of desire, he began to suck on her breast, his bite eliciting a gasp from Yn's lips.

As she held her own hair in excitement, Yn rode him passionately.

Jungkook marvelled at her rhythm, he kept looking at the way she was bouncing along with her round shaped breasts upon him. The sight was mesmerising.

He started slapping her breasts. With each slap on her breast, Yn cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, her body responding to the dual sensations. Yet, she continued her movements, driven by need for release.

His hands gripped her waist possessively,

As he began to suck on her boobs, her nipples and his bites elicited gasps of pleasure from Y/N's lips. With eager anticipation, she held onto

"𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡," he moaned, his voice a husky whisper

Encouraged by his words, Yn pressed on, her movements growing more fast with each passing moment. Jungkook added another slap to her breast.

As Yn's breaths came in ragged gasps, Jungkook made a sudden move.

He pulled back, his cock sliding away from her heated core, leaving Yn in a state of desperation

"𝐖𝐡𝐲?" she gasped, mixture of frustration and need, eyes wide and pleading "𝐰𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞,"

Her voice broke into a desperate plea, "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝," she cried in frustration

"𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety promise of the pleasure to come. "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭."

With a swift move Jungkook turned Yn around, positioning her so that her back was facing him. Her knees into the plush seat beneath her, her body arching slightly.

With a deliberate, teasing motion, He grabbed his throbbing, hard length,

rubbing the tip against her wet, swollen womanhood entrance.

The heat and hardness of him is a contrast to the softness of her silky juicy flesh.

He watched and felt her arousal dripping against her wet flesh, the slickness clinging to his length l

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?” he asked, pressing his length against her, the sensation electric.

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮?”

A satisfied smile curved Jungkook’s lips as he continued to tease her,

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞? 𝐇𝐮𝐡?" Jungkook's voice was a husky whisper,

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐬!" she finally cried out, her voice a mixture of desperation and desire, her body trembling with need

But Jungkook wasn't satisfied

"𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 '𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐬'?" he demanded, his voice a seductive growl as he slapped on her ass.

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞," Yn confessed,

And with that admission, Jungkook chuckled softly. Without hesitation, he seized the moment, plunging deep inside her with a single, powerful thrust from behind.

As Jungkook continued his wild movements inside her, he aggressively moved in and out, each thrust delving deeper into her.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠!" she pleaded, her voice a melodic chorus of desire

"𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!"she cried out,

With a firm grip on her hair and the other hand pressing firmly against her breast from behind, Jungkook pressed hard on her nipples.

"𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞," Jungkook moaned, his voice a husky whisper as their bodies moved in perfect harmony,

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤." He growled

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭," he whispered huskily, his fingers tracing the contours of her body.

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 he added, his breath hot against her skin

Yn’s breath caught in her throat, her body responding to his words with a trembling sigh.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬," she whispered, her voice a mix of longing and surrender. "𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤.”

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?" He growled

"𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬?"

he teased, his words a seductive invitation to surrender to the overwhelming pleasure that awaited her.

Jungkook's grip on her waist tightened as he began to fuck her wildly.

But suddenly he teased her with a slower pace, Yns response was immediate.

"𝐍𝐨𝐨𝐨! 𝐃𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫," she pleaded, her body craving the intensity of their connection.

Jungkook relished in her desperation, his own arousal reaching new heights as he continued.

"𝐌𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐮𝐧?" he teased, punctuating his words with a sharp slap to her back before thrusting wildly again.

"𝐎𝐡𝐡, 𝐘𝐞𝐬!𝐘𝐞𝐬!𝐘𝐞𝐬! 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!" Yn moaned, her voice a mix of pleasure and longing as Jungkook started to move faster

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝!" she cried out, her body trembling with anticipation.

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭��𝐩, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩!" she begged, her words a desperate plea for release.

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞," Jungkook promised, his voice a husky whisper as he continued

"𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐎𝐡! 𝐡𝐡𝐡! Yn screamed with pleasure.

And with a violent move, he turned her around to face him,

With a commanding motion, Jungkook placed both of Yn's legs onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly. Her body arching upwards in response to the shift in position. She wasn't prepared for this sudden move.

The new angle allowed him to plunge deep inside her, each thrust carrying a forceful intensity that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞."

Yn moaned as her body trembled under him "Jungkook," she gasped, her voice a heady mix of need and pleasure, "𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩."

Jungkook’s grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he increased the pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝"?

"𝐘𝐞𝐬," Yn cried,

"𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬." Yn screamed with pleasure

With a wicked smile, Jungkook leaned in closer, the new angle driving him even deeper inside her, he continued, his voice a husky whisper against her ear.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫."

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞," Yn whimpered

"𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝. 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞"

"𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭." he growled, his voice a possessive, guttural rasp.

“𝐎𝐡, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐞𝐬! 𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦!!!” 𝐘𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. her voice a mix of urgency and raw desire, her body quivering with the imminent release.

“𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐨𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡! 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩!”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he watched her unravel beneath him.

“𝐎𝐡𝐡! 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟 𝐮 𝐜 𝐤” 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞” Yn moaned

“𝐎𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲” Jungkook growled

“𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐬!!! 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐎𝐡, 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞!” Yn screams as he hits her every spot inside. building a powerful release.

Yn’s hands moved to cup her own breasts, she took Jungkook’s hand and pressed it, digging it into her soft nipples with a mixture of urgency and pleasure

“𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞” yn pleaded and he obeyed, pressing her nipples hard in between his fingers.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she bit down on her lower lip, a moan escaping as the sensation coursed through her, intensifying the heat pooling in her core.

With a voice thick with lust and a desperate edge, she cried out, “𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐨𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐝!”

Each thrust from Jungkook drove her higher, her fingers tightening around her breasts as she moaned louder, her voice breaking into a frenzied chorus of pleasure.

“𝐎𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤𝐤,” she cried, her back arching off the seat, her body quaking with the intensity of her desire.

𝐈’𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟 𝐮 𝐜 𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠!” she screamed, her cries of pleasure echoing through the car as she convulsed around him, her release crashing over her in a wave of intense ecstasy.

"𝐂𝐮𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠" Jungkook growled

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his body shuddering as he reached his peak.

"𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤,here it comes," he groaned, his voice hoarse with intensity. "𝐎𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

He sent them both over the edge, the explosive release of their shared passion filling the air with pleasure. The throbbing heat of his arousal spilling inside her. his climax exploding inside her with a loud rush of sensation.

As they trembled in the aftermath of their release, Jungkook held her close, their bodies entwined as they shared a tender lipkiss.

he whispered softly,

"You're mine, only mine."

All RIGHTS RESERVED BY ME

Don't remake/repost/

my wattpad -mashbiefics

[aventurineswife]

WHAT IF AFTER A NIGHT OF *ahem* cuddles *ahem* with dan heng, he wakes up first and when he looks at reader he sees THE BITE MARKS AND BRUISES he left behind and he panicks a little. Internally wondering how he is gonna apologise for entering possessive dragon mode but when reader wakes, they just play it off since they love him (but do lowkey worry on how to hide them from the rest of the astral express)

“In your arms, I lose control”

Summary: After a passionate night with Dan Heng, he wakes up to see the bite marks and bruises he left on your skin. Overwhelmed with guilt and panic, he struggles to apologize for letting his possessive instincts take over. However, you brush it off with love and understanding, playfully worrying about how to hide the marks from the rest of the Astral Express crew.

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Fluff, Post-Passion/Intimacy Introspection, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Vulnerability, Humor, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Mentions of Biting And Bruising (consensual, within a romantic/sexual context), Slight Angst (Dan Heng’s guilt), Suggestive Themes (non-explicit), Reader mentioned covering up marks.

It was a rare, quiet morning aboard the Astral Express. The soft hum of the train's engine filled the air, but all was still in the shared quarters. The night before had been intense—intimate—unspoken, but felt deeply. Dan Heng had always kept his emotions guarded, but with you, something shifted. He had let down his walls, and for once, let himself indulge in the connection that was more than just physical.

Now, as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, it illuminated the scene. Dan Heng was the first to stir. His eyes fluttered open, a slight tension in his chest. The warmth of your body beside him was comforting, but something tugged at the back of his mind.

He turned his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you, the rise and fall of your chest as you slept peacefully beside him. His eyes traveled lower, and his breath caught in his throat.

The bite marks—his marks—were visible on your neck, darkened bruises on your skin. His hands had left their mark, clenching into the soft, fragile flesh of your body in his moments of passion. His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach turned. A wave of panic washed over him.

He had never intended to hurt you. It had been an impulse, a rush of emotions that had gotten the better of him. His instincts, always just beneath the surface, had taken control. The possessiveness he thought he had buried had surged like a dragon awakening, fierce and unrelenting.

"Did I...?" He whispered to himself, staring at the marks. His thoughts spiraled. He never wanted to hurt you—never wanted to leave a trace of himself on you like this. He hadn’t meant for it to go this far.

The guilt gnawed at him, and his mind raced with ways to apologize. What could he say? How could he fix this? You deserved so much better than a mess like him, someone whose emotions could break through his carefully constructed walls and leave their mark.

Suddenly, a soft sigh came from beside him. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the light as you slowly came back to consciousness. Dan Heng quickly averted his gaze, though the panic still flickered within him.

"Morning..." Your voice was soft, laced with that familiar warmth that made his chest tighten with affection. As you stretched, your eyes caught the marks on your skin, and you froze for a moment.

"Dan Heng..." you said, your voice light and teasing, but with a hint of concern. "You really went all out last night, huh?" You gently touched the bite mark on your neck, glancing up at him with a playful smile.

Dan Heng stiffened, his face flushing a faint shade of pink. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, but you placed a finger gently on his lips, silencing him.

"I don't mind," you reassured him, a fond smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "I love you, Dan Heng. You know that, right?"

His heart thudded in his chest, both relieved and overwhelmed by your words. But even as the tension began to ease, you could see the worry lingering in his eyes. He was still conflicted, still unsure about how to reconcile his own actions with his feelings for you.

"But," you continued, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "we might need to figure out how to hide these from the rest of the crew. I don’t think everyone will understand."

Dan Heng let out a sigh, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as the weight of his internal panic lifted. The tension in his body slowly dissolved as he leaned closer to you, his expression softening, though still tinted with traces of guilt.

"I’m sorry," he murmured again, his voice barely a whisper, as his hand gently brushed the marks on your skin. "I didn’t mean to be... so possessive."

You smiled warmly at him, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You don’t have to apologize. I love you exactly the way you are."

Dan Heng's eyes softened, gratitude shining through. Still, his mind couldn't help but wander to the day ahead—how would he face the others knowing he'd left such a mark on you, physically and emotionally? But, for now, he had your understanding, and that was enough.

"Guess we'll need to be careful," you teased, lifting your head to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Maybe we can get creative with some scarves or high collars until the bruises fade."

Dan Heng chuckled, the sound low and soothing, the last remnants of his panic slipping away as he held you close. With you by his side, perhaps the weight of his past—and his instincts—would be easier to bear.

For now, he was content.