#i have a longer oneshot in the works about this

[rulerofstars]

off track, on you

oneshot: you’ve always known your dad’s best friend was into extreme sports—but not that extreme. not the kind that made your knees weak and your brain short-circuit the second you saw him ride.

pairing: dbf! rider! bucky barnes x reader

wc: 2.3k words. fluff.

you were bored out of your mind.

with your dad away on another extended work trip, you’d exhausted all your usual entertainment options. streaming services had nothing new, your friends were busy with their own lives, and scrolling through social media had lost its appeal hours ago.

that’s when you remembered your dad’s best friend, bucky barnes. your relationship with him had always been… complicated. he’d been in your life for years, always hovering somewhere between annoying guardian and endearing friend—and lately, those lines had started to blur in ways that made your heart race.

without overthinking it, you grabbed your phone and scrolled to his contact. your thumb hovered over his name for a second too long before you finally tapped it. the line started ringing, and you instantly regretted your decision.

he answered on the third ring, his voice low and a little amused like he’d half-expected you. “hey.”

there was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to be awkward. you swallowed. “what are you doing today?”

“not much. just heading out to meet some guys.”

your brows knit together. “guys?”

“bike guys,” he said, the way someone might casually say mailmen or golfers. “motocross stuff. nothing big.”

that made you sit up straighter. motocross? he never told you about that.

“you do motocross?” you asked, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

“i dabble,” he said, as if the word dabble could ever apply to something that involved literal dirt tracks and flying motorcycles.

there was something smug in his tone, and it annoyed you. “i want to come.”

he went quiet for a beat, as though weighing the idea. “you sure?”

“yes,” you replied, maybe too fast. then, to cover it up, you added, “why? don’t want me there?”

“i didn’t say that.” you could practically hear the smirk through the phone. “alright, i’ll come pick you up.”

you hung up before you could overthink the way your pulse quickened at that.

fifteen minutes later, the low rumble of his car echoed outside your apartment, and you caught sight of him leaning against the door, looking unbothered in that infuriatingly effortless way of his. no honk. no knock. just a single text: outside.

you rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket, muttering under your breath as you locked the door behind you. “so dramatic.”

the second you got into the passenger seat, you shot him a glare. “you could’ve told me to bring a jacket. or warned me if this was a dusty-freaking-arena situation.”

“you asked to come,” he said, not even bothering to hide his grin. “you don’t get to be mad now.”

“i’m not mad,” you muttered, crossing your arms as the engine roared to life. “i just have expectations.”

“uh huh.” he spared you a quick glance. “you’re frowning.”

“this is just my face.”

he laughed softly and shifted gears, the car pulling away from the curb. the drive was longer than you expected, back roads that coiled past empty fields, stretches of gravel, and rows of warehouses you hadn’t even known existed. you stayed quiet most of the way, trying not to look too eager every time he adjusted the rearview mirror or shifted in his seat. eventually, the landscape opened into a clearing of packed dirt, aluminum bleachers, fluttering red flags, and the low growl of engines filling the air.

you blinked. “this is… loud.”

bucky didn’t say anything, just parked the car and walked around to open your door. you stepped out before he could fully reach it, brushing past him with a frown that deepened the moment the dusty air hit your face.

he fell into step beside you, hand briefly grazing your lower back to guide you through the thickening crowd. it was subtle, but you felt it anyway. warm, grounding, annoying in the way it made your chest tighten just a little.

when you reached the metal stands, he left you alone for a few minutes, only to return balancing two drinks, a salted pretzel, and a tray of hot dogs like some casually gifted street magician.

“i didn’t ask for all this,” you said, looking down at the mess of food he shoved into your arms.

“i didn’t want you passing out mid-eye-roll,” he said, settling beside you. “consider it survival rations.”

you shot him another glare, but it didn’t land quite the way you intended. he was already backing away, pulling off his hoodie and slinging it over his shoulder. “enjoy the show, princess.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but he was gone—already jogging down toward the track area where a cluster of guys were lining up bikes and pulling on gear.

you didn’t expect much. honestly, you thought he’d just hang out, maybe talk to people and watch a few races. you figured it would be loud and dirty and maybe boring. what you didn’t expect was for bucky to slide on a helmet, kick up a leg, and mount a bike like he’d been born on one.

“what the hell,” you whispered, sitting up straighter in your seat.

it happened fast. one moment, the bikes were circling the track in practiced formation, weaving around mounds and ramps. the next, one of them peeled away from the group and launched off a jump, flipping through the air before landing in a blur of dirt and smoke. the crowd erupted in cheers.

your jaw dropped as the rider sped through the track, pulling trick after trick, every turn sharper, more impossible. you squinted through the dust, heart pounding, and that’s when you saw it—that unmistakable red stripe on the back of the shirt.

“no. way.”

it was bucky.

bucky, who never told you this was his thing. bucky, who just dabbled. bucky, who was currently flipping through the air like gravity owed him money.

you sat there, stunned, pretzel in one hand, drink forgotten in the other. every time he jumped, your stomach lurched. every time he landed, you barely breathed. and when he did a midair twist off the biggest ramp on the track, you felt actual rage bubbling in your throat.

he was grinning when he returned, helmet under his arm, sweat on his brow, hair sticking to the sides of his face. he looked too good for someone who just disrespected physics.

“well?” he asked, catching the look on your face.

you didn’t answer. just stared at him with wide eyes and a scowl that could peel paint.

“you didn’t like it?”

“you never said you’d be flying through the air,” you snapped. “you said motocross, not death wish. you also told me you just dabble!”

he blinked, then broke into a full grin. “you’re mad.”

“i’m not mad.”

“you’re frowning.”

“i’m always frowning.”

he dropped down beside you, thigh brushing yours. “it’s cute.”

you shot him a glare sharp enough to kill a man. “it’s reckless. and unnecessary. and you’re… you’re insane.”

bucky reached over, plucked a piece of your pretzel, and popped it into his mouth like he hadn’t just been scolded. “you should’ve seen your face.”

you wanted to smack the smirk off him, and maybe also kiss it, but mostly smack.

before you could snarl something else, he stood and held out a hand. “come meet my crew.”

you hesitated, then took it.

the group of guys waiting by the fence were all rough voices, sunburnt arms, and grease-stained jeans. they took one look at you and immediately turned to bucky with raised brows.

“this her?” one of them asked, looking you over with an amused grin.

“yup,” bucky said, pulling you slightly behind him.

“she looks pissed,” another said.

“i am not pissed,” you snapped.

they laughed.

“she’s cute when she’s mad,” someone said.

“she’s always mad,” bucky added, glancing at you. “that’s her thing.”

you glared at him. “it’s not my thing.”

he leaned in just a little closer. “it is now.”

you didn’t say goodbye to his friends. you didn’t even wait for bucky to follow. you turned on your heel with a dramatic scoff and stormed off toward the car like you were about to sue gravity itself.

dust kicked up around your boots with every step, sun hot on your skin, but nothing burned hotter than the fury curling in your chest. the kind that made your hands ball into fists and your mouth twist into something dangerously close to a pout. he could’ve told you. hell, he should have told you.

motorcycles. tricks. midair flips. like he was invincible.

you reached the car, yanked the passenger door open, and slumped into the seat with your arms crossed tight over your chest. you didn’t look at him. not when you heard his boots approaching. not when he opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it instead of getting in.

he let out a low chuckle. “so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

you didn’t answer. you stared straight ahead through the windshield, jaw set, like ignoring him might buy you back a shred of dignity.

the silence stretched. then you heard him move, footsteps crunching against the gravel, and the next second, the driver’s side door shut. he didn’t start the car. didn’t touch the wheel. instead, he turned to face you fully, elbow propped against the console, eyes fixed on your profile like he was trying to memorize it.

“c’mon,” he said softly, voice rough in that way that always made your stomach flutter whether you wanted it to or not. “talk to me.”

still, you didn’t move.

he leaned in a little closer. “what’s wrong, baby?”

your head whipped toward him, eyes sharp. “don’t call me that.”

his mouth twitched, but he didn’t back off. if anything, he got bolder, voice dipping lower, tone all velvet and coaxing.

“tell me what upset you,” he murmured, like he wasn’t trying to win a fight, he was trying to win you. “you looked so worried when i was out there. can’t get that look outta my head.”

you hated that your pulse betrayed you. you hated that his voice could get under your skin like that.

“i wasn’t worried,” you muttered, face turned away again. “i was annoyed.”

“oh?” he drew the word out, slow and smug. “annoyed by me flipping midair like a goddamn legend?”

you glared at him.

he raised both hands in mock surrender but kept smiling. “okay, okay. no jokes.”

you looked away, biting your cheek. “i didn’t know you did THAT kind of thing. that you… you’re just so damn reckless. you didn’t even warn me.”

a pause. then a quieter, more honest reply.

“you’re right. i should’ve told you.” he leaned in just a little closer, his knee brushing yours. “i didn’t think it’d matter. didn’t think i’d matter that much to you.”

your eyes met his then fully, finally. and it was infuriating how sincere he looked.

“of course it matters,” you said, voice breaking around the edges. “of course you matter.”

bucky went still, just for a second.

like your words landed somewhere deeper than either of you expected. his gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes. and when he spoke, it was quieter than before, almost unsure, which was rare for him.

“you mean that?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you turned to face him fully, both knees tucked under you on the passenger seat now, hands folded in your lap so you wouldn’t do something stupid… like reach for his.

“i didn’t come here just to be entertained, bucky. i came because i… i like being around you. even when you’re an idiot on a motorcycle.”

he exhaled something like a laugh. soft. nervous.

“i didn’t know you felt that way.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, well, i didn’t either. not really. not until you started launching yourself into the sky like a dumbass.”

“and that’s what did it for you?” he teased. “the danger?”

“no,” you snapped, heat rising to your cheeks. “what did it for me was realizing how scared i was. how mad i was at the thought of you getting hurt. because it wouldn’t just be some guy wiping out on a track. it’d be you.”

a pause stretched long and heavy between you.

then his voice, low and steady.

“you were scared for me.”

“yes,” you muttered. “obviously.”

he reached over, hand curling lightly around your wrist. not pulling, not grabbing. just holding.

“‘m sorry, doll, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “i just—i wanted to show off a little, i guess.”

you squinted at him. “for me?”

he grinned sheepishly. “yeah. is that pathetic?”

you blinked. “a little.”

his grin widened. “thought so.”

you sat there in the hush of the cooling car, engines revving distantly outside, the soft buzz of wind against the windows. his fingers hadn’t left your wrist. and slowly, it turned into your hand. into your fingers slipping between his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

he looked down at it. then at you.

“if i kissed you right now,” he said carefully, “would you punch me?”

“depends how good the kiss is,” you replied, brows raised.

he smirked. “so i’ve got one shot?”

“mm-hmm.”

and then he kissed you.

slow at first—like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to. then deeper, more certain, like he’d been holding it in for years and didn’t plan to stop now. his hand slid behind your neck, thumb brushing your jaw. you made a quiet sound, one he swallowed up like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you were the first to speak.

“okay,” you whispered. “you get one more.”

he didn’t even wait a beat.

[blufblucake]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Watching You | Ratchet

Paring: Ratchet x GN!Human!Reader

Warnings: Some light emotional tension with a happy ending.

Summary: From the moment Ratchet laid optics on you, something shifted in his spark. As days turn into nights filled with quiet conversations and shared stargazing, a bond blossoms between you two. But unspoken feelings and doubts threaten to keep you apart… Until one moment changes everything.

Word count: 1,6k

❝ Oh can't you see You belong to me How my poor heart aches With every step you take Every move you make Every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you❞

Author’s Notes: Hello everyone! While listening to Every Breath You Take, I imagined this story featuring our beloved and grumpy medic. I hope you enjoy the read. :)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Oneshot

From the very first second he saw you, Ratchet’s attention was captured. Always willing to help the Autobots, always carrying that beautiful smile on your face. At first, he didn’t dare get close, he was content just watching you from a distance as you worked around the base or chatted with the other mechs. Even when you were clearly tired, you tried not to show it, but he always noticed.

It all began with shy smiles exchanged between the two of you, sometimes a quiet "good morning" when you crossed paths in the halls, or a helping hand when he needed small fingers to assist in maintenance. Little by little, you made your way into the medic’s space, tearing down the walls he had so carefully built around himself. He was still the same grumpy and reserved mech with everyone else, but never with you.

It was automatic. The moment his optics spotted you, a wide smile would appear on Ratchet’s intake. You might not have known it, but you instantly made his day better. You slowly worked your way into his spark, carved out a permanent place in his processor without him even realizing it — and when he finally did, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not even during recharge. You invaded his dreams.

And the dreams were always the same: the two of you, together, as a couple. He knew how ridiculous it was, a human and a Cybertronian. It could never work. Even so, he allowed himself to imagine. He dreamed of a future with you, one where there was no more war, a future where the two of you could live in peace and happiness.

Meanwhile, you were falling in love with the medic in silence. You got along so well, it was almost magical, the way you understood each other. Sometimes, no words were needed; with just a glance, you knew exactly what the other was feeling or thinking. So many nights were spent stargazing together, lost in deep conversations. When you were with him, there was never a lack of things to talk about, never an awkward silence. You had long lost count of how many times the two of you had stayed up all night simply talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

Every time the workday ended, you would ask Ratchet to drive you home. You didn’t care how odd it might seem to pull up to your house in an ambulance, you just wanted to spend a little more time with him. Gently, you always turned down offers of rides from the other mechs with flashy sports car alt modes. You only had eyes for Ratchet.

And when you weren’t together at the base, Ratchet watched you. Every movement you made, every smile you gave, every laugh that left your lips — he watched it all, completely smitten, his optics overflowing with affection. Even so, he remained silent. No matter how deeply the feeling burned in his spark, he would never risk losing what the two of you already had. No matter how many times Optimus advised him to confess, or how much he insisted that, even with your differences, a bond between humans and Cybertronians wasn’t impossible, Ratchet wouldn’t take that step. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

You, on the other hand, felt like you couldn’t keep your love hidden any longer. You were confused by the mech’s behavior. At times, he seemed to feel the same, sharing personal things about himself, even going out of his way to study human medicine just to take care of you. But other times, he rejected your flirting and dodged your gentle advances during your nightly talks. You went out of your way to look nice whenever you visited the Autobot base, wearing clothes that highlighted your features and your best perfume, but nothing seemed to catch the medic’s attention.

What you didn’t know was that he was falling deeper in love with you each day, completely enchanted not just by your appearance, but by your heart. All he truly wanted was to hold you in his arms and confess his love under the moonlight, looking into your beautiful eyes.

Another workday had come to an end, and as always, the two of you were together. Inside the ambulance, you watched the city lights from atop the hill. The only sound was the soft purring of Ratchet’s engine. You had been sitting in silence for a while now, and it felt... odd. Breaking the tension, the Autobot finally spoke, his deep voice reverberating through the interior of the vehicle. “You’re quiet tonight. What’s wrong?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turned your gaze to the window. Nervously, you cracked your fingers, an anxious habit that Ratchet hated, fearing your delicate hands might break at any moment. In a near whisper, you finally answered, “Ratchet… What do you feel for me?” Even though he heard you clearly, the medic cleared his throat and asked, “What?”

You stare at the steering wheel in front of you, tracing the Autobot insignia at the center of the horn. This time, your voice comes out louder, more firm; “What do you feel for me?” Ratchet takes a few moments to form an answer. He didn’t want to lie to you, but he also felt like he couldn’t tell you the truth. “I care about you. I’m fond of you… You’re a good friend, a valuable ally to the Autobots.” The moment the words leaves, Ratchet regrets them.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you let out a heavy sigh as you run a hand over your eyes. When you speak again, your voice trembles. “Ratchet, I think I love you. I know, it’s stupid and senseless, but unfortunately we humans can’t control what we feel. And that’s what I feel for you. I’m sorry for mistaking your friendship for something more, but I think it’s best we keep our distance for a while, at least until I can forget you.”

Ratchet feels his spark pound harder. He had spent all this time suffering, thinking he could never be loved back, only to find out you felt the same. He felt like a fool, a love-struck fool, and if he were in his bipedal form, he’d be grinning like a lunatic. He couldn’t help himself; his voice came out hurried “Get out of the car.”

You couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. You understood you might have upset him, but you never imagined he’d abandon you in the middle of nowhere. “What?” you asked in disbelief. But when he repeated the command, you opened the door and jumped out, quickly walking away.

The moment you were out, Ratchet transformed and mass-shifted. The speed and energy drain made him dizzy for a few seconds, but he knew he couldn’t waste time. Before you could get any farther, Ratchet grabbed your arm with one of his servos and turned you around abruptly so he could face you.

Surprised, you turned to face Ratchet and looked at the massive servo around your arm. Even though he were infinitely smaller, the medic still towered over you. Yet his gentleness was impossible to miss, he touched you as if you were made of glass. Your gaze followed the length of his arm, up across his chassis, until it landed on his faceplate. That beautiful faceplate, bathed in the moonlight.

Ratchet was smiling — a huge, slightly unhinged grin he couldn’t contain due to his nerves. When your eyes met his, he paused for a moment, admiring you. With his other servo, he gently cupped your face and stroked your cheek with one digit. “You have no idea how many nights I dreamed of you saying those words…” he let out a soft chuckle before continuing. “I love you too. I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. I fell in love with your personality, your kindness, your heart. And I’ve been suffering all this time thinking I’d never be loved back.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times in shock, blinking rapidly as you tried to process his words. “I’m completely crazy about you. I want you by my side forever. I want to hear your lovely laugh and stay up all night talking nonsense with you. I want the privilege of seeing your beautiful face before I go into recharge, and when I get online, I want you to be the first thing I see…”

Before the medic could finish his confession, you rose up on your toes and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down. You’d never be strong enough to do that on your own, but he allowed himself to be led without resistance. When your face was just inches from his faceplate, you smiled and whispered “Shut up and kiss me, doc…”

The feeling of your soft lips against Ratchet’s intake was unusual, but delightful. The warm, living metal contrasted deliciously with your skin. The kiss was slow and exploratory, both of you savoring the moment and discovering each other. Ratchet’s glossa gently asked for permission, and you gave it willingly. He explored your mouth carefully, delighting in the soft little sighs you let out. When you finally pulled away for air, he followed reluctantly, hating the loss of contact.

Your forehead rested against his helm, and the two of you stared each other for a few quiet moments, smiling like love-struck teenagers. Your small hand gently touched his faceplate, caressing it tenderly, mesmerized by the alien yet beautiful features. Beneath the starry sky, the two of you remained together, exchanging declarations of love and making promises of a life spent side by side.

[absynthe-mind]

HAAAI HAAAAAIII HAAAIII

Uh how bout some good breeding with Russ? He can smell that you're horny during some meeting and takes the advantage of this

Ok so this ended up MUCH longer than I was intending (~2500 words) - hope you enjoy!

Leman Russ (Oneshot) - The Meeting

TW: voyeurism, fingering, sex, dub-con

It was far too early in the morning when Russ left the bed, pressing half a dozen kisses and even more nips across your neck and chest before bundling you up again. 

You feel an odd wet feeling against your neck that your sleepy brain takes a second to register as his tongue lapping against you, along with his warm breath huffing against you rapidly. Sniffing, your brain eventually supplies.

He recedes a moment later, half chuckling as his chest makes some sort of deep rumbling sound of satisfaction. 

Then, the bastard laughs at you while you whine from the loss of your giant heater on such a cold Fenrissian morning.

You can’t imagine how freezing it must be without a big wolfy heater, enough furs to make a war tent, and the fire Leman had ordered to be consistently tended to just for your comfort.

Still, at least you were allowed to sleep in on most days and stave off getting out of your warm, comfortable nest for an extra few hours unlike the vast majority of people on Fenris.

In fact, the sun was well risen by the time you properly wake up for the day, not too far from midday. 

It's a lazy wake up too, bones popping and cracking as you slowly stretch. The nips Leman had given you that morning were already forming small bruises that would thankfully be covered by the layers of cloak and furs you’d don for the day.

You were already getting whistles down the corridor and loud whooping following you from his sons following Leman announcing he was ‘going to claim you as his Little Wolf’, and quite frankly you couldn’t imagine how they’d react to openly seeing his claims on you.

After dressing and carefully arranging your clothes until the marks were covered, you take a moment to lament how lecherous the wolf primarch was - all your underwear had been thrown out and clothing replaced with much more exposing and easy to access robes. You suspected that if it weren’t so cold he would have taken absolutely everything that you could cover yourself with.

You spend the rest of the morning grazing on some cured meats, cheese and bread while debating what you should do with your afternoon - maybe some crafting? One of the serfs had offered to teach you to weave to fill up your spare time…

Your musings are interrupted and activity choices ripped from you when an older looking space wolf enters to inform you that Russ has requested your presence at his afternoon war council. 

He looks you up and down expectantly, a small grin creeping up his face as he motions for you to follow him.

All you can think of on the way there is why on Terra Leman would want you to attend a war council, he couldn’t possibly expect you to contribute anything of worth, could he?

Thinking of Leman sends a warm feeling to the bottom of your abdomen, a feeling you’d been hoping to squash down by avoidance until the two of you spent the long evenings alone together.

Say what you would about his boisterousness and loud, rough temperament, he treated you well both in daily life and the bedroom.

It had taken a lot of getting used to, the constant attention, lavish lifestyle and then the sex that had you drooling and begging around his beast of a cock.

Thankfully he’d taken it relatively slowly, always working to open you up properly to fit him, and starting off slow, sweet and sensual. 

Between his careful preparation and aftercare you didn’t even have any issues walking like you’d anticipated - though you did have jelly legs for the rest of the night and most of the morning, no amount of care could completely eliminate the effect of a huge cock and his thunderous pace.

Thinking through how he’d been treating you did nothing to alleviate that growing warmth, in fact, it had only grown worse - and now you were here, just outside of the war council.

Your escort announces your arrival, not even giving you a moment to try to collect yourself, and suddenly you feel the weight of over a dozen eyes.

Captains, Sergeants and him, staring at you.

His face is pulled into a wide grin, teeth bared, as his eyes rake up and down until you feel as if you might as well have come naked.

“Come.” he commands you, though not unkindly, eyes glittering with some mix of mirth and eagerness.

After a brief moment of hesitation your feet seem to move for you, carrying you to his side. As you get closer, he pats his lap, inviting you to take a seat.

Trepidation fills you, the thought of being sat on his lap appealing - but in front of an audience of his most trusted and capable sons? In a war council?

Before you can deliberate further, or voice protest, he reaches out, snaking a broad arm around your waist and scooping you up with a single hand. He ignores your squeak of protest, manoeuvring you so you’re pressed flush against him.

He doesn’t let you wiggle even an inch away from him, his arm pinning you down to him and pulling you in further - ensuring your ass is pushed right against his groin. 

“I’d stop squirming if I were you, darling.” His tone is low with a hint of amusement laced through as he bends to whisper directly to your ear. 

The implication freezes you in place, cheeks flushing a furious crimson and mouth turning dry, that warmth in your gut growing stronger with every passing second.

Leman hums loudly, inhaling your scent deeply before turning back to the meeting at hand, and though you can’t see his face now that your back is pressed into his firm chest you could swear as to hearing a smirk in his voice.

Resuming of the meeting might as well be torture to you. You don’t understand enough of the complex tactics, supply lines and other jargon language to distract yourself with paying attention, and despite the comfort that Leman’s body heat is providing against the cold air it’s sending your body all the wrong signals.

With his fingers splayed across your lower stomach, idly pawing at you while he speaks and listens in turn, it takes all your concentration not to start squirming and moaning. Normally it was Leman jumping your bones the moment the two of you were alone but tonight you had a feeling it would be you initiating instead.

That changes the moment his hand slips beneath the furs you’d wrapped yourself in, and then through the exposing robes, settling his fingers all the way around the front of your stomach and gripping the curve of your waist too.

It becomes all you can do just to keep from wantonly moaning like a bitch in heat, opting to bite the inside of your cheek to keep in all the sounds you desperately want to make down.

Oh and then the smug bastard goes and starts stroking, moving further and further down until he is lightly pressing over your sex, stroking and circling around without providing any true pressure - but it makes your vision go fuzzy at the edges regardless.

You take a deep breath in, steeling yourself to lean back into him and look up to try communicate that he needs to stop because you’re in a meeting and quite frankly you’re not going to last another five minutes like this. 

Tilting your head up to look at him is both a physical challenge and worries you that you’re drawing his son’s attention to yourself when you want nothing less.

When you do look up it’s to find he is already staring down at you, a wide, smug grin stretched right across his face telling you he knows exactly what he’s doing, and if anything your pleading face only spurs him on.

His fingers curl against you, coming teasingly close to your hole, making you bite into your lip hard and tears spring in your eyes. Your reaction causes his own eyes to light up with amusement and his chest shakes with suppressed laughter as he presses a juxtaposingly sweet kiss to your forehead.

The confusing and conflicting messages finally break your resolve and a low, heady whine breaks free. 

Immediately, the blush spreads from your cheeks to the rest of your face and down your neck too. You become acutely aware of his sons watching the two of you, the meeting having come to a pause, and you are suddenly very glad that your eyes are focussed upwards on Leman rather than the knowing gazes of his sons.

As if reading your mind, Leman suddenly reaches his freehand to grasp the lower half of your face, tilting it back down towards the council and conveniently muffle your noises. 

Convenient because he takes this opportunity to finally stop teasing and slips a huge finger into your hole, already clenching for him, and if he wasn’t using his hand as a gag you’re pretty sure the sound produced would have been nothing but incoherent horny moans. 

You’re not sure if this is some fever dream as the meeting resumes, his sons continuing over the agenda. It would have been maddening if not for the few of them smiling and jeering - confirming that you weren’t insane and Leman was in fact semi-openly finger fucking you on his lap. In a meeting.

In, out, in, out. His finger curls up against your walls, teasing further by deftly avoiding that one sweet spot he knows by heart now.

You’re so ready for him that even his large finger isn’t stretching you like normal, instead slipping in and out with ease. He adds a second finger to join it faster than he ever has before, and the pleasurable burn starts consuming all other thoughts.

Some part of your brain understands still that you have an audience and that once you come down from this desperately building high you’re going to be so deeply regretful and mortified - but a bigger part of you is so pent up and blissed that you can’t bring yourself to care just yet.

As his fingers curl again, this time pressing hard against that spot, you can’t help but gasp into his hand. Your own hands come flying down to his thighs, gripping them tightly.

He chuckles, the sound and movement reverberating from his chest to your back, and the vibration builds you even closer. 

A third finger is added to the mix and the meeting is completely forgotten to you. Orbital bombardment never meant anything to you to begin with and it certainly doesn’t now that your core is so tightly coiled you’re sure you’re going to burst.

The pressure builds and you can just about feel the fog coming down over you, when everything suddenly stops.

He stops moving, pulling his fingers out with a ‘pop’ and vigorously licking them clean.

You begin to look back in betrayal, making noises of protest. All that just to be-

The world tilts on its axis slightly as he shifts your hips upwards, deftly pulls aside his furs and deposits you on his ready and waiting cock.

You’re much, much fuller than you were even with three fingers, but there’s no burn like normal, just a comfortable stretch that fills you up like nothing else.

Vaguely, you’re aware your nails have scraped and clawed their way down his thighs as you pant and mewl into his hand.

For a long moment, nothing happens. He leaves you impaled on his dick while he answers some asinine question about troop formations. 

When he keeps going, content to ignore you for a long moment while his cock twitches teasingly inside you, you decide in a moment of somewhat clarity that two can play this game.

Summoning all your willpower not to cum right there and then, you throw in a few clenches, trying to squeeze his cock as best you can.

The effect was immediate: hands gripping tighter around you, eyes darkening, cock twitching violently inside you.

Letting out a deep hiss of air Leman pulls you up by your hips once more, this time lifting you to the tip before letting you drop back down, before repeating over and over. You feel the full length of his dick grinding against every crevice of your inner walls, dragging against every tender spot as he goes.

Despite the stretching and wetness it's so tight you can feel every inch of his cock, the thick veins throbbing inside, the slight curve - all of it. His balls slapping between both of your thighs was practically squeezing them for him too, making him release guttural, throaty moans.

You were getting deliciously close to cumming again, building up an even bigger orgasm than before, but Leman clearly wasn’t satisfied. 

He shifted from just lifting you and letting you drop to pulling you up and slamming you down on his cock, whole body bouncing as you smacked against his taut muscles.

The shift in pace was enough to send you over the edge, vision going black and then white as your muscles went rigid and toes curled.

Not long after Leman follows you, filling you up with hot seed and dragging out your orgasm as it starts spilling out beneath you, coating both your thighs and the furs beneath.

He doesn’t stop though, continuing to fuck you with his semi-hard cock, already firming up for round two as he forces your orgasm to prolong for as long as possible.

Half way through his second orgasm your body goes limp against him, boneless and utterly fucked out - unable to comprehend anything past the stretch of his cock, his body warm against you and the utter bliss you were experiencing. 

Waking up in the mid evening was not something you were used to, even less so wrapped up with Leman curled around you protectively, absentmindedly petting your hair.

In the time it takes you to properly wake up you’re already remembering the balls deep fucking he just gave you, how he had - the meeting.

You had been in a meeting.

He must have seen the dawning horror in your expression as your soft, sleepy blissed out wake up morphed into sheer mortification, because he started quickly shushing you before you could start bawling.

“Shhh, shhh little wolf, it's alright. Everyone is impressed and proud of you, taking me like a good little mate, handling the big bad wolf,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.

He resumes his petting of your hair, “besides, I could smell how much you wanted me to have my way with you. You can’t hide your scent from me, darling.”

[mumms-the-word]

Don’t Look Back

A quick Emmrook snippet for you! I think a lot about how Emmrich’s lich scene parallels motifs of Orpheus and Eurydice, and yet also flips them, especially if your Rook is romancing him when he becomes a lich…so I wrote a little something about it <3

Each step forward is another step closer to death. Another step forward into eternity. The brilliant white light of the chamber beyond draws him closer like the fabled light of heaven, while you, frustratingly mortal, must stay behind. Your sole task now to watch him walking ahead of you.

All at once you are Eurydice, watching Orpheus walk through the Underworld, expecting him to look back, praying that he doesn’t. To look back now would be to lose everything. He would lose lichdom. You would lose him.

Your breath hitches as he pauses inside the chamber and begins to turn, as if to face you. This is your last glimpse of him alive, your final look at the man you fell in love with as he is—was—in life. You want to meet his gaze, reassure him wordlessly that all will be well, that he will be fine, and yet—

Don’t look. Don’t look.

You pray the words fervently to silent gods while the cold veilfire gazes of the Lich Lords stare down at you from above. You should not be here. You are a temptation. His last tether to the mortal world. Every breath of yours that clouds the cold air with fog is proof. One glance backward at you could ruin it all, tempting him to stay.

Your body stills as he comes to a stop facing you. You are Eurydice, standing at the threshold, one of you in the land of the dead, the other in the land of the living. The fate of your future together hangs in the balance, dependent on a single glance. You stare, as Eurydice must have stared, terrified to glimpse even a hint of his hazel-eyed gaze. Then, with a mix of relief and sorrow, your eyes adjust enough to the brilliant light of the chamber to see his face at last.

And see that his eyes are closed.

[midnightclover]

puts bocchi under ur pillow

What's that I see?

My, my. How did such a cute little thing get in here?

[puhpandas]

Decennial

(2,396 words)

Evan and Gregory, now age twenty-two, celebrate the tenth anniversary of their meeting in the comfort of their shared apartment.

Its already the afternoon when Evan meets Gregory at the couch in their shared apartment, smartphone in hand. Gregory glances up from whatever he was watching on TV, quickly grabbing the remote to pause the channel.

He doesn't even have a chance to greet him before he notices Evan's face. Worry quickly creases his brows, and he moves to get off of the couch. "Evan? Hey, what's wron--"

Evan tries to convey that everything's fine with no words. Because it's true. He just can't muster any up right now. When Gregory seems to understand enough, that's when Evan thrusts his phone into Gregory's line of sight.

Gregory shifts on the couch, taking the phone and studying the screen to no avail. Hes pulled up the calendar on his phone, the date reading March 4th, 2045. Gregorys brows furrow, then, "Uh. I dont understand."

Evan would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so emotional right now. He scoffs, tapping the screen and mumbling "The date. Look at the date."

It only takes another moment for Gregory to understand. Evan can almost see the gears turning in his friends head in the moments before he gasps sharply. "Oh!"

Gregory doesn't look away immediately, just taking it in as if it surpises him. "Its ten years since we met today."

Evan nods at that. A small smile stretching on his face when Gregory finally turns to look at him.

But he should know by now -really, it's been ten years after all- that Gregory knows him. Probably better than Evan himself.

"What's with that look?" Gregory questions, seemingly noticing how Evans smile doesnt quite reach his eyes. "You look sad."

Evan shakes his head immediately. "No-- that's not it." He replies, feeling a bit more fit to speak. "Its just..."

"Ten years?" Gregory prompts, and Evan nods. Gregory seems to get it. He sighs a bit, and Evan can tell hes not alone in reminiscing. "Jeez. Thats..."

"...A long time ago." "A big number." They say at the same time.

Evan joins Gregory on the couch, taking his phone back. Ten years. Ten years since he met Gregory. Ten years since Evan had been that little ball of anxiety. Ten years since the best thing that ever happened to him.

Nine years since their first holidays together. Eight years since they started high school. Four since they graduated. Three since they started college.

One year since they got their first apartment together.

Evan chuckles all of the sudden, loud as a jet engine in the seemingly silent room. "Do you remember what we always wanted to do as kids?"

Gregory only has to think for a moment. "You mean what we made a reality?"

"Yeah." Evan replies. "We got that apartment. Not exactly the college dorm we imagined, though."

"Psh. Are you kidding? Our apartment is way better than any dorm we could have gotten." Gregory scoffs. "We would have like. One room to our name, and we would have to share."

Its Evan's turn to scoff, this time. He smiles, the memories coming back easily. "You're acting like we didnt basically share your room when we were thirteen."

"You were always there." Gregory agrees, but Evan knows by now that Gregory doesn't mean it in a bad way. Never. That's one of the things that have changed since they met. Evan doesnt assume the worst first, and ask questions later anymore. "You got that right."

"Thank god we had Vanessa to tell us what to do." Evan says. "We would be lost without her."

Gregory snorts, shuffling on the couch. Evan glances over, and strangely, being here, in this moment, even though its nothing differnet from what he and Gregory do every day, reminds him so much of when he and Gregory would just hang out together on his bed. Drawing, watching videos, talking and laughing... all of it.

"Its a good thing she told us to get an apartment while we still could." Gregory says. "We would have burned down the entire dorm."

Evan giggles at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time he and Gregory would make a mess in the kitchen. He still remembers how scared he was as a fourteen year old, when he had burned some of the food meant for Vanessa's 'Welcome Home' dinner Gregory insisted they make. The Fazbears house had stunk of char and smoke for days afterwards.

He was terrified at the time. If he had ever done anything like that at his old house...

He shakes that thought away. He does that often. Thinking back to his time alone with his father and brother. His biological ones. It's been a challenge, shutting down his brain when it tries to recall the memories.

Its another thing that's changed. As a kid, he knew nothing about helping himself and his anxiety. He didnt want to. He never saw himself as worthy of deserving relief, and it was so subconscious, little Evan never even realized it.

Now, it couldn't be more different. Hes never been healthier.

Who knew all it took was a best friend for life?

He looks over at Gregory. Who's still recounting some of their old childhood memories. Evan doesnt talk to Michael anymore. The damage he caused is too much to ignore. Evan... Evan doesnt want to see him anymore. Despite Michaels wake up call, it had been all too late. The damage had been done.

Michael missed his chance. Evan had decided that a long time ago. Maybe he should have had his change if heart earlier if he didnt want Evan to find the brother he always wanted in someone else.

Because that's what Gregory is. Its nothing new, they were having these revelations when they were only teenagers. Probably even earlier for Evan. But Evan never stops thinking about how much Gregory truly is his family.

That suprise and shock of the kindness hed received from Gregory from little Evan ten years ago is hard to shake when all hed been taught his whole life is how to hate himself. How he deserved to be treated badly, because if he hadn't been the way he was, he could have made himself worthy. A respectable man. Tough. An immovable rock. Real men dont show their emotions, or even experience them. Real men can defend themselves. Real men start to toughen up at the ripe age of twelve.

Evan is twenty two, now. So is Gregory. This life they'd built for themselves, with such a bright future... little Evan never would have even dreamed of. Little Evan had thought there was nothing there for him. Little Evan had thought there was no light at the end of the tunnel. That he had been doomed from the start. That his nature nipped his figure at the bud before it could begin.

This life theyve built for themselves. When Evan had ran to the Fazbears as soon as he'd turned eighteen with only a bag of clothes, a binder full of drawings, and yellow bear to his name. When he'd shared the room that felt like his own as well growing up with Gregory. When they'd spent those few months together until getting into the same college and choosing an apartment.

This life theyve built for themselves. That Evan would have only seen as a fantasy when he was eleven.

Theyve changed so much. It always shocks Evan every time he sees an old photo, or really remembers what it had been like pre-Gregory. Evan is growing out his hair, now. Before, all hed ever had was a months overgrown generic slickback. But he gets to choose now. Like how he paints his nails. Gregory has never really cared about his appearance, but he saw a photo of his Dad as a college student and immediately went to go replicate the blue streaks in his hair when it was time for himself to go off to college.

Evan almost laughs sometimes when he thinks about how much Gregory really is just an older version of who he was when he was twelve. He's different, like Evan is, but he's the same as well. A constant.

He knows hes the same, as well. Just with longer hair, bolder clothes, and the power of experimentation. Gregory has never been one to care much about his clothes, but to Evan, its everything. To be able to wear what he always wanted as a kid. To not be confined to whatever annual clothes his Father would buy him from the back to school section. Its freeing.

It's in that moment that he thinks back, really thinks back to his life pre-Gregory, and the contrast of the before and after.

It's all too much, in that moment. The memories and the sentiments and the nostalgia. In true Evan fashion, he cries about it.

Gregory has long since learned how to differentiate Evan's tears between his emotionality and a genuine issue. So when Evan begins wiping silent tears away, he just smiles one of those smiles he does, and pats him on the shoulder, pulling him in for a side hug.

Its digging a hole in Evan's chest, this feeling. It's not bad. But it's not exactly good either. It's some kind of a loss, but a hope as well. Remembering how much he loved back then. As much as he loves right now.

"I--" Evan stutters, sniffling. Gregory hands him one of the many boxes of tissues they always have on hand in their apartment. "It... It feels like we need to celebrate, somehow. I mean... ten years is big."

Evans mind floats to a cake. Or a two person party. Or a collaborated drawing. Evan's mind floats to many things. Many options. Ten years is big, right? Something that big needs a big party. Something big to commemorate it.

But Gregory just hums, and lays eyes on the thick shelf of DVDs they have tucked by the wall right by their TV. "How about a movie night?"

Evan's about to interrupt, say something about the milestone, but Gregory continues. "Do you remember all our favorites as a kid?"

Evan stops himself short, almost scoffing, because of couse he does. How could he not, when he and Gregory had stayed up so many times to watch them together, alongside stifled giggles and ice cream straight out of the carton? "Of course I do."

Gregory gets off the couch, crouching by the bookshelf and picking out a select few movies. Evan catches the titles on the packaging from all the way were hes sitting. Every single one of them is special to him.

Gregory deposits the movies on their coffee table, three DVDs spilling out onto the glass surface. "Then I can't think of a better way to spend the night."

Despite Evan's attempts, he cant either. Despite watching these movies almost regularly with Gregory even now, opening the casing feels different in this moment. It feels special. Evan feels like hes thirteen again.

Before starting their marathon, they make a huge bowl of popcorn, pouring caramel on it just how they liked it as kids. As they continue to now. Evan gets the carton of ice cream out of the fridge, handing Gregory his spoon and taking his own.

All they need is a throw blanket and they're ready. It's the exact setup they've done for years. Starting ten years ago today. This tradition has lasted this long, and it will outlive the milestone.

It feels so familiar, Evan cant stop thinking. His emotions are dialed up to eleven tonight. It only increases when the sky darkens outside their windows. He remembers coming home from school with Gregory and just. Immediately piling onto his bed with snacks and pillows and turning the lights off before they'd dive into another movie. Only going to bed when Freddy forced them to.

Because that's what it was. Thats what it still is. Home. All Evan feels right now is home.

They laugh at all the same parts. They cry as well. They cheer. They point out the same things. Nothing has changed.

Sure, ten years is big. But Evan can't think of a better way of spending the anniversary than continuing to do what hes loved to do with Gregory throughout the years. This doesnt mark the end of an era, or a big change. It marks how long hes had the gift of his brother. His family. His real family. The fifteenth mark will, as well. So will the twentieth.

All the tenth mark says is hes had ten years worth of joy and growth. and He'll continue to do just that.

After the third movie, Evan takes a quick look at his phone. The numbers 12:03 look back at him from his lockscreen, a picture of him and Gregory. The date has switched to the 5th.

"You're my brother." Evan says suddenly to Gregory at the beginning of the fourth movie. Gregory pauses in stuffing his face with popcorn to look over at Evan's earnest face. "You know that?"

Gregory chuckles wetly. It seems Evan isn't alone in the sentimentality tonight. "Only since we were preteens."

Gregory pulls him into that same side hug he always does. "You're my family." Gregory tells him sincerely. "You always will be, too. Hell would freeze over before our family would ever say you aren't one of theirs."

Evan chuckles, eyes misty, because he knows its true. He can imagine his family's reactions so vividly. "I know."

They only sink further into the hug after that, the movie continuing on. Theyve long since stopped with the thank yous. Not since they got it through Evan's thick skull that they arent doing him a favor. They just love him.

It's in that moment that Evan realizes that tomorrow is another day. And there are more after that and after that. Theres more milestones to reach, more years to spend with his brother and their family, and he cant wait to experience them.

But right now, he's content continuing a ten year long tradition as a mundane celebration for a non-mundane achievement.

It's not mundane to him at all, anyway. It means the world to him.

Besides, he can't imagine a world where his family doesn't throw a suprise party for him when he and Gregory visit them tomorrow.

ao3 link

[teh-nos]

repeated note to self: AVOID FANFIC REDDIT D: D: D:

[itstimeforstarwars]

I’m having a lot of fun thinking about the galidraan au. I’m not getting anywhere with the writing, but I’m thinking about it.

[ghosttrolls]

okay i just used a gif to update my profile pic fully aware that it would not animate (just the first frame is fine) but when i hit save in settings it looked like it was animating, but i refreshed my dash and it isn't looking changed at all? so maybe gifs are just straight up incompatible (ironic because if you edit an image using tumblr's image editing system it's automatically saved as a gif file... but i digress)

[inkykeiji]

waaah happy first day of october everyone!!! 👻

[frogshipping]

Character Discussion: Goku and Chi-chi (in my selfship universe)

I've been wanting to talk about this for a while, because the relationship between these characters does hold some significance, even though Goku eventually ends up with Viti

Goku and Chi-chi in my selfship universe, as in canon, ended up together because Goku promised that they would get married when they grew up (even if he didn't know what it meant). Chi-chi's infatuation with Goku is one sided. She truly was and is romantically in love with him. Goku on the other hand has never felt romantic attraction towards anyone, at least not until Viti comes along. But that isn't to say he never loved his wife. On the contrary, he loves her very much, but it's the sort of love that blooms over years of knowing someone and raising a child together. He loves her, but has never been in love with her.

Everything up until the Buu saga goes exactly the same in my selfship universe. Including Goku's sacrifice during the Cell Games. By the time Viti comes into the picture, Goku's been dead for 7 years, and is only back on earth for a day to participate in the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai. Chi-chi (like in canon) is excited to see her husband after so long. But when they finally come face to face, there's a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Goku looks exactly the same as he had when he died, though radiating a stronger aura. He's very healthy and happy for a dead person, though still as unserious as ever. Chi-chi, on the other hand, has changed. She's been a single widowed mother of 2 for nearly a decade now, raising one son solo from birth. She's depressed; worn down and tired. Her body aches more than it used to. She has a few more wrinkles than she did before (though she's luckily in better shape since she's been training Goten). And she was even more heartset than ever to live a peaceful, normal life with her family.

Chi-chi feels like an almost entirely different person than she had when her beloved husband passed, even moreso than when they'd first married. Yet, somehow, she expected them to come back together seamlessly. But the difference--the distance-- between them is noticeable. The 7 years apart sits between her and Goku like an invisible chasm. They're almost like aquatinces with each other, maybe even strangers. Still, Chi-chi tries to ignore that and make the most of the day they have together. But not much comes from it.

Goku, as always, is focused on fighting. He's too busy catching up with the other Z Fighters and getting warmed up to give much attention to Chi-chi after their reintroduction. Worse, Goku makes a new friend during the tournament. They look very different from any of the women in Goku's life. They're short and stout, with weird green eyes, and short delinquent blonde hair. They look younger too, maybe by about a decade, compared to the Sons. Yet she's got all of Goku's attention for a good long while. Too long, for Chi-chi's liking, and she begins to grow worried her greatest fear might come true, that Goku is going to leave her for someone younger and prettier (even though Viti doesn't fit the standard of attractiveness.). Goku on the other hand is simply intrigued by this new, surprisingly strong stranger that's suddenly popped into existence.

Chi-chi is so caught up in her that fear and jealousy that she doesn't acknowledge the distance between her and Goku. She doesn't reconize her life goals don't line up with his. He wants to get stronger and go on adventures, especially after he's resurrected. He doesn't mind having people tag along, but certainly doesn't want to be bogged down with jobs or ordinary life. Meanwhile, Chi-chi wants her family to finally be normal, without anymore fighting or death. She willfully ignores her main marital troubles, and instead insists Viti is to blame.

Chi-chi's feeling grows during the Buu saga and after, when Goku and Viti start to train together and hang out. One day, about 2 or 3 years into their friendship, they go to do some intense training in the Room of Spirit and Time. Chi-chi, although unhappy about it, eventually accepts this arrangement after arguing a while with Goku.

Vegeta visits Chi-chi that day, spouting how inappropriate he thought it was (out of his own jealousy, but that's a character discussion for another time.). He reminded Chi-chi that a day outside the Hyperbolic Time Chamber was the equivalent of a year inside, and who knew what could happen in that amount of time. This triggers some paranoia in Chi-chi. When Goku comes home the next day, she insists Goku cease all contact with Viti, since she was coming between their marriage. Goku is clueless as to what she's talking about but after a few days, out of love and loyalty to her, he agrees to stop being around Viti.

Chi-chi was certain her feelings of distance with her husband would dissipate after that. Life goes back to normal. They get back into a routine, and Chi-chi even manages to convince Goku to take on a few jobs. He farms, and works part time as Hercule Satan's bodyguard. The family finally has a decent income flowing in. Goku is present more often. It's everything Chi-chi ever wanted. But it's a daily battle of arguments and Goku whining. Chi-chi's depression doesn't get much better, and some days it feels even worse with Goku's presence. He feels more like a third child in the house than a supportive husband. She starts to long for the days she didn't have to worry about him crawling home injured from spars, or from him dragging their sons off who-knows-where, especially when they need to study.

Goku is feeling miserable, too. He hates working two jobs. He doesn't have as much time to keep up his training regimen as before. Chi-chi is constantly yelling at him over the smallest things, and he feels he gets in her way more than anything. They tried to be intimate again, but after time it felt more exhausting for both of them than anything else. But Goku wants Chi-chi to be happy, and does his best to do what is asked of him. It's the least he could do to make up for being away for so long.

After a year, Goku starts to spend time with Viti again. Yet by this pont, him doing so brings Chi-chi a bit of relief. She realizes that having space from Goku brings her more joy than having him home. It's during the day when he's away working or training that Chi-chi takes time to think about her current life situation. And eventually, she comes to the conclusion that she enjoyed being a single mother more thn thecwofe of an absent husband.

Goku and Chi-chi have a talk one night, once she's taken time to think about all that's transpired over the past 10 years. They talk about everything they both wish to accomplish, and where their lives together are at. They try to figure out if there's some sort of compromise, if one of them can change or sacrifice something to make the other's life more tolerable. But they can't, they're both too stubborn to change what happiness they seek. They come to an agreement that perhaps they're better off going their separate ways instead. Both Chi-chi and Goku are heartbroken to make this choice. They've been together since they were young. They love each other, even if it's never been a traditional sort of love. But love isn't always enough. They accept that, and their pair divorce amicably.

In the years following, Chi-chi comes to terms with the end of her marriage. She enjoys her single life with her boys, and new baby granddaughter. She doesn't have to stay awake at night wondering if her husband will come home. She doesn't have to argue beyond typical spats a mother can have with a mischievous son. She can go on dates, and live like a normal human woman. Meanwhile Goku gets all the time in the world to train. He gets to travel for weeks or even months on end without having to worry about someone at home being mad at him. He even eventually comes to find new and true romantic love with Viti, after a long time grieving the end of his marriage. They love to go on adventures, and seeks to get strong just as he does. Goku finally has someone who understands. And Chi-chi finally has some peace.

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

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[intromortal]

✷ LIQUID SWEETENER ⸻ sim jaeyun

jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.

this work contains ⋆ smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care, fingering, praise, degradation (use of slut like once? and pet), he's mostly very sweet tho i promise, oral f!rec, squirting, mentions of free use, multiple orgasms, quick aftercare, jake comes untouched he's down bad sorry ! ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ oneshot ⸻ 5.2k words

✷ NIA — i finally got around to rewriting this omfg. this rewrite is for my sweet @heechwe and all the nonnies who asked for this to be posted again <3

It's not everyday Jake gets to take care of you, so when you're all sickly and weak, it's hard to evade his attentions no matter how hard you try.

Jake pouts when you shoot down yet another attempt to get you to take your medicine. "Why don't you just chug it? I promise it's not as bad as you think."

He’s been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin.

"If it's not as bad as I think, why are you suggesting I just chug it?" Your voice is slightly muffled as you eye him suspiciously from under the heavy cover pulled up all the way to your nose.

"You're the one insisting it's disgusting without even trying it, I asked for the best flavor possible when I got it." He made sure to pick out a syrup that doesn't taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he can picture it right in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again—which you wouldn't agree to take anyway.

For how much you hate being sick, you seem to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.

“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighs, resting the cap filled to the brim with honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge. He licks whatever residue is left on his sticky fingers. "Really not that bad. It's sweet."

"So it's not good either," you huff back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep. "I'm not even that sick anyway.”

“Yeah?” Jake looks at you with an arched brow, then points his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding grounds for bio terrorism allegations.”

He stops you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispers against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.

“Just wan’ you.”

His plump lips thin into that gorgeous wide smile of his as he speaks,“but you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?”

He knows very well what you mean, and a frustrated grumble spills out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wants you to say the quiet part out loud. Neither of you is used to going without pleasuring each other for long periods of time, and anything longer than three days is eons according to Jake. You're surprised he's behaved as well as he has this past week, you thought he would be the one to cave in first.

“Want…more,” you crank one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slips in it. You blink a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observes you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.

If Jake has to be completely honest with himself, he's not particularly sad at you being a little sick. 

Sure, it sounds mean when he says it out loud, but you're not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoys doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl has a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work. 

You're always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoys knowing he's helping make it at least a little better for once.

You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he's making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprays on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.

Jake takes notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it.

Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licks away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick doesn't help, being physically weak and needing rest doesn't stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you have nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupts your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You look up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he's about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”

Really not being dramatic, but you're pretty sure a boulder just crushed you right on your chest. You groan, turning to the other side so you can properly sulk without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you'd love to ride as soon as possible.

“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice is muffled by the pillow currently squished against your face.

“What are you even doing.”

“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me.” You grab the sides of the pillow and push them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles. 

“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he whispers, and the loving tone makes your body feel light.

You suddenly push yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement. “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too misses your touch, far more than what he lets on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions. He often found himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom, trying not to wake you up because he knew if you caught him he wouldn't be able to get out of your claws.

And you really need the rest.

As if sensing his resolve wavering, you add, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”

“A reward… for what?” Jake is thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever get like this, and he enjoys every second of it. You can tell because he's pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. On any other occasion he would've been all over you before you could even finish your sentence. But Jake doesn't care, not when he doesn't know when the next time he gets to hear you beg a little for him is gonna be.

“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”

“You still have a fever though,” he says. “Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”

“That.” You glare at him with all the fake anger you can muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”

“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”

“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words die in your throat as you feet the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee.

"No, no. Keep talking." He slowly gets under the covers, and it's not because he's testing your reaction. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.

You try to hide the way you gulp, eyes still fixed on his body as he gets comfortable on his side, facing you.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispers against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he sneaks an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his chest. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”

You reach for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guide it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you grind against it.

"I suppose you've had enough rest."

You take notice of how his breath hitches in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you use his hand. The illusion wears off even more when he tries to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You know he wants it just as bad as you do, you're just willing to beg for it as long as it gets you what you want.

“I’ll—” you gasp when he flexes his fingers that tiny little bit you need to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”

“Anything?” his voice is light and airy as he moves the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickles your neck, Jake’s mouth dipping down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.

“Anything, just… please,” you whine, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.

Had you not been so deprived of Jake’s touch, you would have found the way you're grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you're desperate, so you can't bring yourself to care too much about how pathetic you probably look to anyone else.

The only people in the room are you and Jake anyway, and he seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. His cock is stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you are through your shorts. Dripping already and he barely touched you.

"You're so fucking hot. You know that?" Jake nibbles the shell of your ear, making you arch further in his hold. “You'll do anything you said? How about you take your medicine then?” He moves his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak attempts at clawing his arm to get the little taste of pleasure he took away from you back.

He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”

“Take my medicine,” you whimper, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little piece of shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.

“Theeeere we go,” Jake sings in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”

You nod, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound could make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh comes up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smooths over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.

“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbles, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your scent. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole and soaking your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.

His free hand finally slides under your shorts,and a gasp leaves you because of how cold he feels. Jake is always warmer than you, but your fever makes it so his touch feels icy against your skin. Your back arches slightly when one of his digits parts your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.

“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggles into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly drags them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”

Usually, his stupid little jokes would’ve made you groan and push his face away. But this time—blame his voice for being deeper and hoarser than normal, or blame your fever—it makes you clench around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he takes his sweet time playing with you, savoring the moment.

Your head digs deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.

“So needy…” he breathes into your neck and goes back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he can reach.

A yelp leaves your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you closed shooting open when Jake bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smooths over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, the pleasure overriding anything else. 

Jake finally prods two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction is instantaneous, cunt fluttering against his fingertips right away. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”

Jake is so fucking turned on, he can barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind is get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He feels like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life is just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seems different to him, almost animalistic, from the way you rut your hips against his hand as soon as he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, to the way you aren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this is just from his fingers, he can do so much worse.

You yourself aren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you help Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you feel from the fever. His fingers are so long, hitting all the right spots you know you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles drag against your walls so deliciously.

“S-so good,” you gasp when he turns his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knows has you coming undone in just a few strokes.

The room is filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You can feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashes on you, heavy and almost painful. You claw at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake is not facing you anymore.

He looks at the comforter, over his shoulder. The cap filled with syrup is still there amidst the mess. He twists his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he's fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spill onto his shirt as he takes a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tries his best to hold it in his mouth. You're still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty to the point you don't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend is providing you with.

“J-Jake, I’m so close.”

Perfect timing.

Jake grabs your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure you've learned means it is time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he know you to be. And you do just that; immediately following his movements like he trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure.

He bends down slightly to aim better, but this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expect, he lets small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.

You uselessly try to back away from him, but he holds you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor does he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand holds your jaw open, grasp getting firmer every time you try to break free from it. After all, you made a promise, and Jake's going to make sure you fulfill it.

“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouths against your lips once he makes sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”

He smashes his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss but a silencing of any complaint you're about to spit at him. Those turn to even more whines when he finally brings his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucks you to your orgasm. It's almost instantaneous, you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth, but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slow down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too relishes in how your cunt pulses around his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh, he wishes it was his cock being constricted like that instead, but that can wait.

You finally feel like you can breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you possibly can, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.

The sheets are drenched around you, and you can't even pinpoint when it happened, but you can immediately tell you aren't the only one who made a mess. Your gaze wanders to Jake’s pants, and a very evident stain on his crotch catches your attention. And fuck, if you aren't ready to do it all over again.

Jake looks absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste, truly.

You sneak your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake lets out when you wrap your hand around his cock and pump a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.

Jake watches you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you lick your fingers clean. He slides his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up just as much as you did him. His heart races in his chest as you keep looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.

“That was so…” you speak up, giggling when Jake interrupts you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.

“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”

“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”

Jake curls an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He places a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”

“Well I still hav–” 

“And won’t.” he deadpans, sensing where you're trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

You smile to yourself, feeling feather light kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He places a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grab a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rests his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you say, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzles his head further against your skin.

“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He places another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you take too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”

“Jake. I’m being serious.”

“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughs at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”

“You are downright insufferable.”

“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”

The rest of the sentence is muffled against your mound as you push his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.

“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggle as you lay back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue makes contact with your cunt.

Jake's movements are slow and deliberate at first, as he takes his sweet time collecting all of the slick coating your lips and smearing it all over your skin. It's methodical in a way Jake very rarely is, nothing like the primal and messy mixing of his own spit with your arousal and grunting noises you're so used to. When he gets like this, it's purely to tease you.

You grab a fistful of his hair, the strands soft in your hand, and raise his head to force him to look at you.

You almost regret it when you're met with the sight of him licking his lips, his plump lips spreading in a grin that looks almost evil. His irises are entirely drowning in the dark of his pupils, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't send a chill down your spine. The good kind, the type that also makes you clench your thighs against his frame.

"If you're gonna beg me to eat me out," you say, finding your strength again and being careful not to let Jake see any weakness on your features. "You better do it properly."

You try to keep a straight face when he erupts in a fit of giggles.

"Oooh, look at you—" he starts, clearly amused by your attempt to assert dominance. "I know what I'm doing. You know I know what I'm doing. It just seems to me that I've spoiled the princess a little too much lately." He lowers his head to your thighs, and litters soft kisses as he makes himself comfortable again. Somewhere along the lines, the harsh hold you had on his hair turned into your hand dragging him closer, but you can't pinpoint the exact moment.

Or you just really don't care to know, not when Jake starts lapping up at your cunt like he's starving.

"You taste so delicious, baby," he moans between licks, his nose pressing further into your heat with every movement of his. "So much better than any medicine. Fuck—you're gonna be my little cure from now on. Every time I'm sick, I'll just let you open your legs for me. You'd let me, baby. Wouldn't you?"

You nod vehemently, before realizing he can't see you. "Yes, please use me," you moan, spreading your thighs as far as you can while pushing his head closer to you, even when it's almost physically impossible for Jake to even breathe. Not that he would have it any other way.

The grip on his hair, the way you push and pull at it as if you have any command over the stimulation he's giving you, the way you sing for him with every flick of his tongue. It all makes Jake's head spin in the best way possible, his cock stiff again in his pants and throbbing against the very fabric he ruined with his cum only minutes before.

He grunts and moans into you, like he's the one being pleasured, and it all adds to the magic Jake is working on you. The vibrations only aiding in inching you closer to the second orgasm of the day.

"Jake, I'm close, please."

You don't need to say anything else, because he parts from your cunt for a single second. Just enough to let a gobble of his spit drip down right on your engorged clit, coating it in more shiny essence.

You're about the complain about the lack of stimulation, but he dives right back in, licking a singular stripe from your poor mess a of hole upwards. He can taste the remains of the syrup in his own spit still, and paired with the straight up divine taste of your own slick, Jake thinks he might be in heaven.

"So sweet, baby. So fucking sweet. It's like you want me to never stop fucking you with my tongue." He catches your little bundle of nerves between his raw lips, already wet with spit, suckling on it like he's trying to coax even more wetness out of you. He swirls his tongue around it, his eyebrows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration as he keeps toying and prodding at every single part of your pussy.

You're so unbelievably close to coming undone, every passing second just bringing you closer to the brink. All it takes to send you over the edge is Jake moaning with your numb right in his mouth, the small vibrations from it all you needed for the searing white feeling to envelop you completely, the familiar silent yet still deafening tingly sensation spreading from your core to all the limbs in your body.

Jake keeps lapping up all your generous body gives him, thankful for it all and careful not to let a single drop go to waste.

Your arm is thrown over your eyes as you catch your breath, this second orgasm completely emptying you of whatever energy you had left. Usually you would offer Jake to help him out as a little thank you, even though he told you time and time again that it wasn't needed and pleasing you what was got him off in the first place.

But as much as you denied it initially, the fever did take a toll on you, more than you would like to admit. So any further activity would have to wait.

"Yummy." Jake comes up from below you, drying the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand. Even if you're tired and spent, the comment is enough to make you remove your arm from your eyes just so you can give him a well deserved death stare.

He gets up from the bed, disappearing for a few seconds into the bathroom. "What's with that look? No 'thank you Jake, you're the best?'"

When you don't reply, far too weakened to even try to banter with your boyfriend, he walks back into the room with a towel and a worried look etched on his gorgeous features.

He gets on the bed again, careful not to move your body more than necessary, and starts cleaning you up with the gentlest touch you've ever felt him use. "Did i tire you out too much? You're still sick—"

"You were great. Don't worry," you stop his train of thoughts you knew you wouldn't hear the end of if you let him go on for any longer. "I just need a nap, then I'll be as good as new."

The tension in Jake's shoulders only disappears once you smile at him, his own face morphing to match your own. It's one of your favorite things about him, how he's so careful and attentive to every hint and feeling on your face, he ends up mirroring them without even noticing.

He runs his hands soothingly all over your skin as he resumes cleaning you up, the room falling into a peaceful silence.

You almost fall asleep, but you should've known Sim Jake shutting up for once was far too good to be true.

"Look at the mess you made though. This is enough to start an entire pharmacy."

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being fucking for real right now. And oh my god you were, so fucking for real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was taking forever for it to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[rizzanon]

Batdad brainrot

a bruce wayne and daughter! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: your estranged father tries to connect with you in ways you didn’t expect him to

The argument had started as something small.

Bruce didn’t even remember what it was about. A minor disagreement, an offhand comment, something inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t have escalated.

But it had.

And now, you weren’t speaking to him.

Well—not exactly. You weren’t avoiding him outright. You still responded when necessary, still showed up when he called, still acknowledged his presence. But it was different.

It was distant.

Mechanical.

Gone were the casual conversations, the random observations you used to share just to fill the silence. Gone were the moments when you’d tell him about something you found interesting, even when you knew he probably wouldn’t have much to say in response. Gone were the little efforts you made to connect—because no matter how much he had failed to meet you halfway, you had always tried.

And now you weren’t.

At first, Bruce Wayne had told himself it didn’t matter. That it was fine. He wasn’t someone who needed constant conversation, who thrived on interaction. He was used to silence. Preferred it, even.

But this wasn’t silence.

This was absence.

And it made something in him itch with discomfort.

Because suddenly, the manor felt empty in a way it never had before.

Bruce had never been good at fixing things that weren’t tangible.

A broken bone could be set. A wound could be stitched. A case could be solved, an enemy could be defeated, a mission could be completed. But this? This was different. There was no direct solution, no simple fix.

And he hated that.

Because every time Bruce saw you, he saw the way your shoulders stiffened. The way your expression remained carefully neutral, the way you answered only when necessary. The way you no longer sought him out, no longer attempted to start conversations, no longer tried—and the worst part was knowing that it was his fault.

He had spent so much time thinking he was protecting you by keeping his distance, by not indulging in sentimentality, by maintaining the walls he had built so carefully over the years. But all he had done was push you away.

And now, he was left with nothing but silence.

He thought about it more than he wanted to admit.

During patrol, during Justice League meetings, even when reviewing case files in the Batcave, his mind kept drifting back to the argument. Kept replaying it over and over, picking apart every word, every moment, trying to pinpoint the exact second he had gone wrong.

Bruce had always believed himself to be a man who thrived in silence. It was in silence that he observed, that he planned, that he found control.

But now, this silence—your silence—was unbearable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you filled the manor with your presence until it was gone. The absent chatter, the missing quips at the dinner table, the lack of commentary whenever you sat next to him in the Batcave, pretending to work while obviously keeping him company. You were avoiding him. Not just in passing, but with intent. And Bruce wasn’t used to that.

Bruce Wayne was many things, but when it came to being a father, he was painfully aware that he wasn’t the best. And now, that awareness was staring him in the face every time you walked past him without a word.

He didn’t realize how lost in thought he was until he felt someone watching him.

Bruce glanced up from the Batcomputer, already knowing who it was before he saw him.

Dick was leaning against the cave’s stone wall, arms crossed, brow raised. He had that look on his face—the one that meant he had been standing there for a while, the one that meant he was waiting for Bruce to acknowledge him first.

Bruce exhaled slowly. “Something you need?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Dick said, pushing off the wall and walking toward him. “You’ve been staring at the same screen for the past twenty minutes. Either you’re trying to solve the world’s hardest crime, or you’re brooding.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t brood.”

Dick snorted. “Right. And Gotham is a peaceful city with low crime rates.”

Bruce ignored that.

There was a beat of silence before Dick leaned against the Batcomputer, tilting his head slightly. “So? What’s up?”

Bruce hesitated.

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. Telling him it was nothing. That he was just tired, or distracted, or caught up in work. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew Dick wouldn’t buy it.

And… maybe a part of him didn’t want to brush it off.

So, with some reluctance, he told him.

And by the time he was done, Dick was looking at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against the Batcomputer. “You and (Name) got into an argument. She’s now giving you the silent treatment. And you’re freaking out.”

Bruce gave him a look. “I’m not—”

“Bruce,” he said slowly, “do you hear yourself right now?”

Bruce frowned. “…Yes?”

Dick exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m aware that’s what I do.”

“Yeah, with cases. Not with your daughter.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but the way his jaw tightened must have said enough, because Dick sighed and shook his head.

“There you go again,” he muttered. “Overanalyzing, scrutinizing, looking for some grand strategy when there isn’t one. She’s not you, Bruce. She doesn’t think like you, doesn’t work like you. So stop putting on the whole ‘Bruce Wayne’ act and trying to figure this out like it’s just another mission. Instead of thinking about how you would approach this, think about how she would.”

Bruce went still.

And just like that, his mind started turning again.

But this time, it wasn’t in the way he usually did.

This time, he wasn’t analyzing things from his own perspective—he was trying to see it from yours.

And that… changed things.

Over the next few days, Bruce found himself researching in a way he never had before.

He had read entire psychological profiles on some of the most complex minds in history. He had deciphered alien languages. He had cracked codes that entire intelligence agencies had failed to solve.

And yet nothing—nothing—prepared him for this.

It started with subtle observations. He paid closer attention to the things you watched, the things you laughed at, the things you scrolled through on your phone. He noted the words and phrases you used, the memes you sent in group chats (not that he snooped—he just happened to see them in passing), the trends you occasionally mentioned in conversation with your brothers and sister.

Then came the actual research.

Bruce Wayne was a detective. A strategist. A man who could crack the most encrypted codes, uncover the deepest secrets, solve the most impossible mysteries.

So surely, surely, understanding Gen Z slang couldn’t be that difficult.

He was wrong.

At first, it was just simple terminology. He started with the basics—words like “rizz,” “mid,” “slay,” and “delulu.” But then he found himself spiraling into deeper territory, encountering phrases that made absolutely no logical sense. “Ate and left no crumbs”? “Touching grass”? “Gyatt”?

What the hell was a “skibidi toilet”? Why was “no cap” a thing? Why did “mid” sound like an insult? What was the difference between “based” and “cringe”? Why did some of these phrases feel like they were meant to be grammatically incorrect?

He had never felt older in his entire life.

But Bruce wasn’t deterred. If anything, the confusion only made him more determined.

So, he studied. He took notes. He tried to analyze sentence structures, context, and usage patterns. He even ventured onto TikTok, only to be immediately bombarded with an overwhelming amount of fast-paced videos, most of which he did not understand.

But he persisted.

His first attempt at incorporating this newfound knowledge into conversation came during dinner.

The table was mostly silent—just the occasional clink of silverware, the occasional page turn from Tim’s book, the occasional soft exhale from Cassandra.

You were sitting across from Bruce, scrolling through your phone, expression unreadable.

And Bruce, in a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between you, cleared his throat and said, “So… I hear that a lot of things are… bussin’ nowadays.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Tim looked up from his book, squinting in suspicion. Damian paused mid-bite, staring as if Bruce had grown a second head.

And you?

You just slowly lifted your eyes from your phone, staring at your father with the most deadpan, unreadable expression he had ever seen.

“…What?” you asked flatly.

Bruce maintained his composure. “I was simply acknowledging that many things these days are… as you would say, based….?”

Your stare somehow became more bewildered.

“Father,” Damian said, voice wary. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Tim looked vaguely concerned. “Did you hit your head during patrol?”

Bruce frowned. “No. I—”

But before he could even attempt to recover, you sighed, shook your head, and went right back to your phone.

Bruce realized, then and there, that his first attempt had been a complete failure

So, he regrouped.

His second attempt happened in the Batcave.

You had come downstairs to grab something, and that’s when you saw it—Bruce sitting at the Batcomputer, scrolling.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until you got closer.

And realized that your father was—oh god—scrolling through TikTok.

“…Dad.” you said slowly.

Bruce stiffened.

When he turned, there was a brief moment where he looked like he was debating whether or not to close the tab. But then, after a second of hesitation, he exhaled and faced you fully.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said seriously.

You raised a brow. “Okay?”

Bruce turned back to the screen.

“Why,” he starts, “do so many of these… influencers believe that Batman is an alpha male?”

You blinked.

He gestured toward the screen, where a video was paused on some random guy in sunglasses talking about “how Batman embodies the peak sigma mindset.”

“They claim that I—he—operates on some kind of grindset mentality,” Bruce continued, sounding vaguely irritated. “That the reason Batman fights crime is due to some misguided sense of superiority rather than a moral obligation. Some of them even say he ‘gives off major red pill energy.’”

You cringed.

Bruce’s frown deepened. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “B, please stop scrolling on that side of TikTok.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Bruce said. “It just happened to appear on my feed while I was doing research.”

“…Research?”

“For… communication purposes.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of communication purposes?”

Bruce hesitated.

And then, in what was possibly the most botched attempt at Gen Z slang to ever exist, he slowly said, “I’m just trying to… get that W… and not be an L father. No cap.”

Silence.

Pure, unfiltered, incomprehensible silence.

You stared at him, utterly speechless.

Bruce held your gaze, waiting.

Tim, who had just entered the cave, immediately turned around and left.

It took a full ten seconds for you to finally find your voice.

“…What the actual fuck did you just say?”

“Language.”

You were baffled. Was your father hearing what he was saying??

Before you could respond, an alert suddenly blared through the Batcomputer, signaling an Arkham breakout.

And just like that, he was saved by the bell.

Bruce quickly turned back to the screen, scanning the situation, already shifting into mission mode. But before he left, he spared you one last glance.

And, in what was perhaps his most disastrous attempt yet, he said,

“Stay woke.”

Then, without another word, he swept out of the cave.

Leaving you standing there, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

You had no idea what the hell just happened.

And honestly? You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

But the next day, Bruce made one last attempt.

Bruce Wayne had faced some of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He had been thrown through walls, stabbed, shot at, and even died once (technically). He had outmaneuvered gods, masterminds, and creatures of the night.

And yet, standing outside your bedroom door, debating whether or not to knock, he found himself hesitating.

This was ridiculous.

He shouldn’t feel hesitant about this. He was your father. He had faced literal apocalypses without flinching—why was it so difficult to face you?

Was it because of his failed attempts at getting through to you these past few days?

Probably.

But he had committed to this. He wasn’t going to back down now.

So he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and knocked on your door.

A pause.

Then—“Come in.”

He opened the door, stepping inside with careful, measured movements. His eyes swept over the room instinctively, cataloging every detail—your posture, your expression, the way your fingers curled slightly where they rested on your crossed arms.

You were stiff, but not defensive. Guarded, but not hostile.

Not angry. Not anymore.

But you were distant. And that was worse.

Bruce had always relied on presence—on being there, on the sheer weight of existence as a means of maintaining connection. But now he understood that presence wasn’t the same as attention.

He hadn’t given you that. Not the way you had given it to him. Not the way you deserved.

Bruce cleared his throat, trying to find the words. “I…. would like to formally apologize for being the… goat of bad parenting. That was not very…. rizz of me.”

You blinked.

What?

A slow, deliberate blink, your expression frozen in something between shock and utter disbelief.

Bruce noted the way your brows twitched slightly, the way your lips parted just enough to indicate that you had words but were currently incapable of forming them.

Good. That meant you were listening.

He continued, tone steady. “I have, in fact, been caught in 4K being a cringe father. And that’s on me. Major L.”

The silence that followed was excruciating.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, like you were trying to determine if this was some elaborate joke.

Maybe it did seem like that to you.

Bruce pressed forward. “No cap, I have been acting incredibly mid. Probably even giga-mid.”

Still silence.

The twitch in your eye was microscopic but noticeable. The corner of your mouth jerked—barely, almost imperceptibly, but Bruce caught it.

He nodded, as if steeling himself, mentally adjusting his approach. “This whole situation has been, dare I say… a ratio.”

That was what did it.

You snorted.

A small sound, abrupt, barely audible—but it was real.

Encouraging. He could work with this.

“I have realized,” he said solemnly, “that I have been lacking fatherly rizz. A skill issue, if you will.”

Your entire body curled inward as you let out a strangled, disbelieving laugh, hands flying to cover your face as if that would somehow make this entire situation less insane.

Bruce analyzed every detail—the way your shoulders shook, the way your hands trembled slightly as you pressed them against your face, the way you leaned just a fraction forward, no longer so closed off.

Progress.

Finally, gasping for breath, you looked at him with pure horror. “Dad. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am always serious,” Bruce said gravely. “This is an earnest attempt at slayful parenting.”

You made a sound that could only be described as a dying gremlin noise.

Bruce noted the way you hunched further over, like your body was physically rejecting what was happening, and yet—you were still laughing.

You peeked up again, eyes shining with barely restrained mirth. “Dad, what the hell are you saying?”

He furrowed his brows. “Am I not eating right now?”

You lost it again.

Bruce waited patiently as you continued to laugh into your hands.

Finally, wiping at your eyes, you shook your head. “Oh my god, Dad. What is this. Did Alfred put you up to this?”

“No,” Bruce said. “This was all Dick’s idea, somewhat.”

“Of course it was,” you groaned, still grinning. “I knew he was behind this somehow.”

Bruce hesitated, then walked over, sitting at the edge of your bed.

He saw it in the way you met his eyes, in the way your posture was looser, in the way you were actually looking at him now, rather than through him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your smile dimmed, just slightly. “…For what?”

“For the argument, for not listening. And for not being as emotionally available as I should be.”

You searched his face.

Bruce let you.

You studied him, guarded again. But then—softer, you asked, “Why are you trying now?”

“Because you tried first,” Bruce admitted. “And I never met you halfway.”

That got you.

He saw it in the flicker of your expression, in the way your fingers twitched slightly, in the way your gaze softened just enough for him to catch it.

Then, after a long moment, you huffed. “…Is that why you were acting so weird these past few days?”

Bruce nodded. “I will admit… it was incredibly painful.”

You laughed again, but it was softer now. Easier.

Bruce felt something in his chest loosen.

You sighed, stretching your arms behind your head. “…Fine. I forgive you. But please—never say fatherly rizz again.”

Bruce placed a hand on his chest. “I make no promises.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto your bed.

But you were smiling.

And for Bruce, that was more than enough.

literally based off my parents trying to act like they understand gen z slang infront of me and my sister LOL 😭 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo | ask to be added <3

[teh-nos]

Reminding myself that I resolved not to delete any fics that have a bookmark on them😭