#/amuses you as much as it amused me to see your comment

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ felled by fear.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Malleus Draconia x gn! reader

𓏵 734 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, angst, hurt/comfort

I missed posting angst aqqq (｡>_<｡) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You weren’t afraid of Malleus Draconia. Not at first.

For as long as you’d known him, he had been gentle—kind, even, in his own distant way. He spoke to you when others fled. He found your presence amusing, interesting, even welcomed. He had never given you a reason to fear him.

Until he did.

It wasn’t directed at you. It wasn’t because of you. But it didn’t matter. The raw, overwhelming power that crackled through the air that night, the sheer force of his rage—it left an imprint on your bones, an instinctual terror you couldn’t shake.

Malleus hadn’t even noticed at first. He had dealt with whatever had offended him, turned to you with the same calm expression he always wore, and spoken your name like nothing had changed.

But something had.

You flinched.

It was slight—barely there—but he caught it. The way your shoulders tensed. The way your breath hitched. The way you hesitated before meeting his gaze.

You had never done that before.

He didn’t say anything. Not then. He only walked you back to your dorm, the silence stretching longer than usual. And in the following days, he observed.

You still greeted him, still smiled, still treated him with the same kindness as always—but there was something different now. A hesitation in your movements. A fraction of a second where you measured your words before speaking. A subtle shift in your posture whenever his magic so much as flickered in the air.

You were afraid.

And Malleus didn’t know how to fix it.

It came to a head one evening, under the familiar comfort of the night sky. He had invited you for a walk—as he often did—but tonight, you were quieter than usual. He watched you, the soft glow of fireflies reflecting in his somber green eyes, and finally, he asked,

“Do you truly fear me now?”

You froze. His voice wasn’t accusing, nor was it sad. It was simply… searching. As if he wanted to understand.

You hesitated, your fingers curling into your sleeves. The answer should have been simple. No, of course not. He was your friend. He had never harmed you. But the words stuck in your throat.

Malleus sighed, looking away. “I see.”

He didn’t. Not really. He had been feared all his life—by strangers, by students, by those who had never even spoken to him. But you had been different. You had never once recoiled at the sound of his name. You had never whispered behind his back or cowered when he entered a room.

And yet, here you were now, struggling to reassure him.

“I don’t—” You stopped, inhaling sharply. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Malleus tilted his head, listening.

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t…” You swallowed. “That night. It was a lot. And I didn’t realize how powerful you were until I saw it firsthand.”

He was silent for a long moment before he let out a quiet hum. “So now you look at me differently.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but that would be a lie. Because you did.

Malleus didn’t say anything else. He only turned his gaze back to the stars, his expression unreadable. He had always been feared. He had thought himself used to it. But somehow, from you, it hurt.

You bit your lip. Your first instinct was to comfort him—to tell him that everything was fine, that things would go back to how they were. But fear wasn’t something you could just switch off. And knowing Malleus, he would never force you to.

So instead, you took a step closer.

Malleus blinked, glancing at you.

Another step. Then another. And before you could talk yourself out of it, you reached out, hesitantly brushing your fingers against his sleeve. A small touch. A quiet reassurance.

“I’m still here, Malleus,” you murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes widened slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and exhaled.

“…That is enough,” he murmured. And this time, when he looked at you, there was the faintest trace of a smile.

Not everything was fixed in a single night. But you were still here. And for Malleus, that was what he needed.

[evamame]

request for osamu miya from @merlucide

you’re on your bed, scrolling on your phone to pass the time. the speaker on your drawer is blasting your favorite tunes as you mindlessly sing and hum along to the lyrics. you’re enjoying yourself, rewinding all alone. or at least, you thought you were.

the sound of osamu returning home was drowned out by the loud noise of the speaker, unbeknownst to you. he had finished up at the shop on time and returned home as usual. too bad you were preoccupied with your doomscrolling session to notice the numbers on the clock.

as osamu enters through the front door and calls out his usual “i’m home!” greeting, he expects your typical “welcome back!” in response. but he hears nothing of the sort. instead what he hears is the muted beating of a loud drum coming from your shared bedroom.

he hasn’t yet picked up on your habit of blasting music and singing loudly to yourself in all the time you’ve spent living together, because this is something you only ever do when he’s at work and you’re home alone. rather than sitting in silence, why not yell your heart out when nobody is there to hear? you’re no musician by any means, but a good song will fill your soul with enough passion to try your best.

osamu throws his cap onto a hook on the wall before making his way to the bedroom, slowly peering his head in through the door. the creaking sound as he turns the door knob and slides his way into the room is unheard by your ears. but there you are, laying on the bed, singing along to the lyrics and bobbing your head from side to side to the beat.

he leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, an amused grin dawning his features at the way you passionately belt the chorus. he can’t control his laughter at the way you’re so unsuspecting, still acting as if nobody is watching.

his snorts manage to make it past the sound barrier of the music, and you instantly freeze and look up from your phone to see osamu watching you. you quickly get up and run across the room to your speaker, spamming the volume button to turn it all the way down.

you stammer flusteredly, “‘samu, you startled me! when did you get home?”

he laughs at your bewildered expression, “just now. seems ya couldn’t hear me over yer music. i had no idea ya had such good taste.”

you glance at the time on your phone, “i guess this is the time you get home.”

he nods, “yup. i didn’t know ya had it in ya to sing like that.”

“well, i thought i nobody was home.”

he flashes you a toothy grin, “guess ya thought wrong. turn it back on. i wanna hear more.”

your cheeks flush pink, “but i’m a terrible singer.”

he chuckles, “i know. sorry sweetheart, but ya really do suck. i meant the speaker. this is my favorite song.”

you groan, completely embarrassed at being caught red handed and yet again being a victim to his insufferable teasing, “you’re the worst!”

“ya, sure. love ya too.”

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena

a/n: i love osamu so much jsnqhfmsiwiejf. no other comment.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[odileeclipse]

I'm gonna freaking eat your works.....

(this is mildly wordy It's like 2am and I have a lot to say)

I'm a big big BIGGGGG sucker for a good Shmilk or Pure ganilla fic....and wow you delivered.....🤤🤤

Big thank you for keeping me entertained for a good hour, that's a struggle for me LMAO I loved your writing, and the way you wuold describe his voice being all wispy and spooky; really added to the overall vibe of the fic and I really did like it :3

If you don't mindsies, I'd love to request something from you as well (o゜▽゜)o☆ As previously stated in a comment somewhere, angst makes me SO happy to write/read....the in-depth details people can do with emotions makes me so HEAHEHHAEHAEHEHAHEAHEH in a /pos way....

So! I would like to hhhhhhumbly request some good old fashioned Shmilky angst! Or, if you'd prefer to write Pure vanilla that's cool tooo!!!! I don't really mind what *type* of angst, just angst 🤤 I try to give writers creative freedom, but I'd adore some loss/unable to cope with loss of a loved one.....whatever works ;b ANYWAYS! LOVE YOUR WORK AND YOU'RE VERY COOL!!!!! 💥💥💥💥

The Puppet and the Fool

A tragedy in One Last Breath

A/N You're right there's been too much happiness on this blog time to fix that.

You were never supposed to last. From the moment you met Shadow Milk Cookie, you had been a mere curiosity, a spectator drawn into his ever-moving spire, his ever-deceiving carnival of illusions. And yet, somehow, you had done the impossible you had slipped between the cracks of his carefully constructed reality, nestled yourself in the spaces he hadn’t meant for anyone to occupy. It had started as a game, like all things with him did. "Oh? What’s this? A little spectator who doesn’t flee at the first trick? How rare!" His voice had slithered around you, a serpent’s coil laced with amusement and something sharper, something dangerous. Others feared him, reviled him, whispered of his cruelty in hushed tones. But you, oh, you were foolish. Foolish enough to laugh, to poke at his ego, to challenge him in ways no one else dared.

He had never asked you to stay. Never invited you into his world of trickery and taunts. And yet, there you were, day after day, watching his performances with something that was not admiration, not fear just an amused understanding. "And what, pray tell, keeps you lurking about, dear audience?" he would purr, flourishing his staff. "Surely, you have places far safer than my den of illusions." You had only shrugged, smiling faintly. "Your shows are entertaining." "A high compliment, indeed!" He placed a hand over his chest in mock gratitude. "But beware! The greatest trick of all is never knowing whether you’ve already become part of the act!" "I think I’ll take my chances." Foolish. But he liked that about you. And so, your presence became a fixture, something woven into the very script of his performances. He would create grand illusions, dazzling lights and twisting realities, and you would be there, arms crossed, shaking your head with a knowing smile. "Too much?" he would ask, grinning. "You always overdo it," you would reply. It became a game one he never admitted he enjoyed far too much. And, without realizing it, he began making his performances for you.

"I see through your tricks, Shadow Milk. You’re not as unpredictable as you think." That had caught his attention. You played along, indulged his theatrics, yet somehow remained separate from them. You saw through him in ways that unnerved him, as if you knew where the real strings were pulled. But instead of cutting them, you simply held them, quietly watching as he tangled himself in his own illusions. You became a regular in his performances, not as an unwilling participant, not as a victim, but as something else entirely. A quiet presence beside him, a soft counter to his grandiosity. A knowing smile when his lies got too elaborate, a gentle nudge when his mind grew too tangled in its own web. And somehow, he let you stay. Because for all his lies, you never demanded the truth from him. And for all his illusions, you never asked him to be anything but himself. Looking back, the signs had been small, quiet things, easy to dismiss, easier to ignore. The way your hand would tremble when reaching for his. The way your breath sometimes came too short, too shallow, even when you stood still. The way your laughter, once bright and full, became something softer, something restrained. "Tired already, my dear? We’ve barely begun the show!" he would tease, twirling his staff, watching as you paused to catch your breath. And you, ever the fool, would grin and wave him off. "Maybe you should carry me, then." "Oh-ho! A tempting proposition! But I’d hate to spoil you."

He had never thought much of it. Cookies grew weary. They faltered. It was natural. It wasn’t until he noticed the way you hid it the way you swallowed the winces, the way you steadied yourself against walls when you thought he wasn’t looking that something cold and unfamiliar began to fester in the back of his mind. Doubt. A word he despised when it came to you. But it remained. And yet, he never asked. Because asking would mean acknowledging. And acknowledging would mean accepting. So he let the show go on, even as the cracks in the stage deepened beneath your feet. Now, as you lay in his arms, the truth he had refused to see wrapped around him like chains, dragging him into a reality he would not accept. You had always been dying. And he had never noticed. Or rather he had never allowed himself to notice. "You lied to me," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. You managed the smallest of smiles, though it barely reached your eyes. "I didn't lie." "But you didn't tell me." His grip tightened, his mismatched eyes wild, frantic, unblinking. "You let me play my part, let me prance about like a fool while you-" He choked on his words. "Why?"

You exhaled, slow, tired. "Because I knew you’d react like this." The laugh that tore from his throat was anything but amusement. "You-!" His voice cracked, and he had to swallow down the wreckage threatening to spill. "You knew and you still…" His breath shuddered. "Why didn’t you tell me?!" You hesitated. Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because you did. And he wasn’t ready for it. "Because I didn’t want my last moments to be a performance," you murmured. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, weak, barely there. "I wanted to just… be with you." Something shattered inside him.

All those stolen moments, every laugh, every conversation, every quiet night beneath an illusory sky of his own making they had been real. You had given him something real. And now you were taking it away. His breath came quick, shallow. His grip on you was desperate, as if holding you tighter could keep you anchored to him, to this world. "No, no, no, I won’t let you—" "Shadow Milk." His name had never sounded so soft. So final. You smiled. "I love you." And then, stillness. The silence was deafening. Shadow Milk Cookie did not move. Did not breathe. Did not accept. His jester’s hat had long since fallen, forgotten on the cold ground. The ghostly eyes in his hair flickered wildly, their gazes darting in all directions, uncertain, uncomprehending. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t real. The story wasn’t supposed to end this way. He clutched your body tighter, rocking slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re still here." A statement. A fact. A truth. Or perhaps, the most desperate lie he had ever told. "You’re just waiting for your cue. That’s all this is." His tone was light, theatrical, forced. "A clever little act oh, how you’ve fooled me this time, my dear!" His mismatched eyes gleamed, too wide, too bright. "But the show must go on." There was no response. Yet he continued, undeterred. "I’ll give the next line, then! What a generous performer I am!" A sharp, broken laugh left him. "You’ll wake up soon. You always do." The world did not answer. But he did not listen. Because Shadow Milk Cookie was a liar, a master of illusion, a weaver of truths and falsehoods alike. And so he told himself the greatest lie of all. That you were still there. That you had never left. That the final act had not yet begun. And as the silence stretched on, swallowing the stage whole, he did what he had always done. He played his part. And waited for you to play yours.

[neeeooon]

(un)official hype squad ;

24 | nosebleeds

isagi sent you a not-so-subtle wink before leaving you alone with rin, who looked very confused upon seeing you. it was your first time seeing rin this close, and you were suddenly running empty on your usual teasing comments. "um... want some company?"

"not really."

"oh," you reddened. "i can leave—"

rin cut you off as he turned away from you. "no. stay."

that's how you ended up watching rin practice from the sidelines of the field, insanely amused at how he could shoot so efficiently. it took you nearly ten minutes to work up the courage to interrupt his practice with a question that came out more as a statement. "show me how to kick it." you didn't wait for his answer before jogging onto the field.

rin stopped the ball with his cleated foot and tipped his head to the side. "use the side of your foot," he said while lightly tapping the ball in your direction and stepping back. he stayed a safe distance away from you as you caught the ball and 'dribbled' it near the goal. taking aim, you raised your foot and kicked the ball into the goal. you barely had time to cheer when a ball whizzed past your head. the goal lit up, and you spun around to find rin looking bored from the half-court line.

your jaw dropped. "i wanna try!" you were too far away to hear rin's amused scoff, but he raised his voice when he said, "okay, try."

as expected, you didn't use enough power, and the ball rolled to a slow stop right in front of the goal. you clapped your hands. "that's in."

"that is not in."

"it's literally on the line!"

"what line, y/n."

you stared at the ball and hummed. "i hate you."

"i know."

you played around a little more, though it was more of you watching him score, and decided to find an extra ball to kick against the wall. after watching rin, you noticed his kicks were much higher than yours and tried adjusting the angle of your foot. a few tries later, you kicked it hard and dropped to the ground with a shout when it ricocheted back at you. unfortunately, rin heard you and turned just in time to catch the ball with his face.

your hands immediately flew to your mouth as you watched him stagger. "oh my god!" it didn't hit hard enough to break anything, but there was a steady stream of blood dripping from his nose to his lips. you ran over and pressed the sleeve of your shirt to his face. "oh god, you're bleeding! are you okay? i'm so sorry!"

rin wanted to be mad, but seeing your genuine concern made him falter. and he laughed. the sound of it shocked you still because the man had never so much as smiled, and here he was laughing.

"oh god, i broke your head, didn't i?" that only made him laugh harder. "stop laughing! do i need to take you to a hospital or something?"

rin brought his hands up to wrap around your wrist and gently pulled your sleeve away from his face. "y/n. it's a nosebleed. i'm fine."

you released a heavy breath but couldn't pull all the concern from your gaze. "you sure?"

he smiled as he nodded and stared down at where your wrist hung, cupped between his hands. "i'm sure."

masterlist // previous (ch 23) // next (ch 25)

notes -> OKAY that should be the last writing section for a little while !! thank you for 400 followers! 💗💞

tags -> @enepsigosthelast @svnarxnn @shutuppeter @meekydeeks @tired-child00 @arwawawa2 @5-laska @evilenchantresss @ieathairs @zaephix @x3nafix @nensi @chaoslibra @yukari1k @90s-belladonna @imasimpsowhat06 @tachiibabe @kisses2kanao @kyutiipie @chuurinnie @lukapurin @arcanaloser @kuroshiinya @folksmione @kermitbbg69 @luvynii @irethepotato @poisonedst4r @heididaily104 @ichcocat @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @kurosagislvr @prettyblueskiess @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @lilsebnem @bubybubsters @cookielovesbook-akie @idexmids @sugacor3 @ohagiyo @loverryxx @mivqko @unr4v3l @ravenbc @kaz-0e @nevvynev @levihanmyotp @syarc0re @kaikaidenkai @kaidostwin @aldebrana

© neeeooon, 2025

[satsugacafe]

I saw you were interested in doing question thingy for the characters and thought if I send in one.

A most to least for who's into breeding (mot to get preggo) but just filling up their lover? Between Ichigo, Ryuken, Jushiro, Shunsui, Byakuya and Kisuke, please?

A/N: Damn anon, what a question. You got my stomach flipping in excitement >.< Thank you for asking!

𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭

1. 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 — The undisputed king of indulgence. The man, the myth, the legend. Nothing satisfies him more than thoroughly filling and feeling you clench around him while he spills inside. He’s playful about it too, murmuring in his lazy, honeyed voice about how good you feel wrapped around him, how he’s not stopping until he’s sure you’re stuffed full and leaking. He adores the slow, drawn-out ecstasy of release after release, pressing his cum deeper with his cock or even his fingers, ensuring you stay warm and filled long after he’s done.

2. 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 — When he gets into it, he’s relentless. His stamina is absurd, and he gets addicted to the way you tremble, already full yet still taking more. He’s not as openly verbal about it at first, but when he’s truly lost in the moment, he growls out filthy, possessive things—how he loves the way you take him, how he doesn’t want a single drop to go to waste. He doesn't stop until he’s sure you feel every bit of him inside. Seeing you drip afterwards only fuels him to go again.

3. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 — I’m telling you, if he wasn’t sick, he’d be competing with Shunsui. This man has seven siblings. You CANNOT tell me that breeding doesn’t run through his veins? But alas, his illness marks him as 3rd. He may be the picture of gentlemanly restraint in public, but in private, he revels in it. He’s incredibly tender, praising you between soft kisses, stroking your trembling form as he murmurs about how good you feel. He doesn’t rush, taking his time to enjoy every moment, ensuring you’re completely satisfied before finally letting himself sink deep and spill inside, groaning at the blissful tightness.

4. 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 — Oh, he absolutely loves it, but he also enjoys teasing the hell out of you about it. There’s this annoying, smug, knowing grin every time he pulls out and watches his cum leak from you, making amused little comments about how messy you are. But that smirk drops when you clench around him, keeping his load inside—oh, that drives him feral. He’s all about experimenting, seeing how much you can take, and testing your limits, but he doesn’t have the same deep-seated need as the ones ranked above him. It’s more of a game to him, albeit one he thoroughly enjoys playing.

5. 𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚 — Being in control, and filling you is something he takes pleasure in, but it’s not a necessity for him. If you request it, he’ll oblige, murmuring low commands about how you are to hold everything without spillage. He appreciates the aesthetic of it, watching his cum drip from your swollen entrance with a smouldering gaze. For him, it’s more about refinement—making sure you’re fully satisfied rather than indulging in raw, messy excess.

6. 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐧 — Of everyone here, he’s the most restrained. He doesn’t see the appeal in excessive indulgence, preferring efficiency over hedonism (like Shunsui). That doesn’t mean he never does it—if you enjoy it, he’ll ensure you’re filled, but it’s never his primary focus. He’s meticulous and doesn’t like mess. If anything, he’d rather keep things clean and controlled, though if pushed to his limit, he might surprise you with just how much he’s capable of giving.

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

[rueharley]

"Say that again"

Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend Reader

Pure fluff, where reader tells rafe how much she loves him. So sweet might give you toothache (only kidding).

......................................................................

"Say that again.."

My voice arrested all the attention as I cut off Rafes words. He's been speaking for an undefinable amount of time in a constant, calm way. The time he's been speaking is only undefinable because in these moments I find myself lost in his little mannerisms.

When he speaks like this - lost in his thoughts - his usual front is up, but if I look closely I see through it and see the gentle parts of him.

I find myself lost in those little soft glimmers of him. I am slightly mesmerised by those gentle aspects of him only I get so see.

"Why? You weren't listening To me, hm?" he asks, a hint of attempted understand meets his expression.

His gaze suggested him wondering the cause of my distraction. I, in all my contradiction, considered to deny any notion of mishearing, but I have a tendency to be loud about everything I like about people, and this was going to win in this case.

"I got distracted by the way your voice sounded, " I replied honestly, leaning on the back of the chair that was opposite his.

An amused and slightly confused look graced his face. His eyes focusing on mine a bit more as if trying to learn more about my random confession.

"the way my voice sounded..?" he asked, a smile playing with his perfect lips. A flicker of playfulness was hidden in his questioning features.

'hm' I nodded, not feeling embarrassed at all because it felt genuinely justified. It would be because he was this handsome and mine.

We noticed quickly how we were gazing each other with that certain puppy-type love. Like we haven't been together for a while already. Like we were playing blushes and shy glances away.

"..and by you're little mannerisms..and the way you have a boyish look in your eyes when you speak about something you like.." I spoke, my voice being soft as the moment.

A gentle smile met my lips as I said these things to him. I loved through words, I wanted to tell him how much I adored him, how much I loved him, but I usually keep those things quiet as people aren't used to hearing them.

"Sounds like you haven't heard a single word I said, huh?" he asks rhetorically as his voice comprised of his usual cocky, teasing tones.

"I've been listening, just to things of a different nature," I reply with a bounce in my words. If felt like i had a crush on him although he's my boyfriend.

"different nature..? Seems to me you've been staring, " he teased slightly, but I knew his words were in kindness.

His icy blue eyes were so pretty. I felt a slight jolt of cherishement.

"I've been watching the way your lips move as you spoke," "and how you speak clearer as you get to the end of your sentence."

He laughed slightly, the beautiful sound filling the room. My heart swelling in affection from how happy the sound made me.

"you get so distracted, baby" he exclaimed but in his usual cool demeanour. I never could bring 'exclamation' out of him, I don't think it's a natural reaction for him.

I smiled in response, I wasn't going to comment on how I loved his slightly slurred pronunciation of the nickname.

Slightly drawled and muffled, the word 'baby' seems to pour out of him, and I love it.

"Your adorable" he says, his voice breaking the silence.

My heart did a little flutter, I feared he might have heard it in this tender moment.

"..and if you're not careful you'll turn me into a right sap," he added, his tone lighthearted and playful.

I giggled slightly, wasn't sure if there was a slight soft pink tint to the room or if it was simply me blushing.

"that's not a bad thing" I replied, a smile plastered on my lips.

He processed the words I said, a flicker of amusement glimmered in his eyes before he replied.

"hm, you want me to be a sap, huh?" he asked teasingly.

I thought about a response, not want, but a few special moments when he allows himself to be a softy openly.

"want is a strong word," I finally replied, my tone light.

"Thought we were being bold today, weren't we, baby, hm?"

I didn't reply, his playful, challenging tone being dominant and consuming the air for a moment.

My tongue was blank; I couldn't conjure up some response and I felt myself being shy.

A taunting expression slowly revealed itself on his sharp feature before he spoke, "don't worry, I'll be a sap for you.. Well, only sometimes,"

I scoffed playfully at his adamant and commonly occurring attempt to remain being seen as 'manly', and tough. He didn't like people knowing he had a soft side, a soft side for me and that's why he let only me see it (and even that was difficult).

"hm, you can't be seen being too soft" I say playfully, teasing him subtly.

"damn straight. I got an image, a reputation to uphold, can't have everyone knowing-"

"how much power his girlfriend has over his heart," I cut him off quickly, rendering him silent.

He scoffed and glanced down before his gaze met with mine again. He was devoid of an answer which was uncommon for him.

"we have power over each other because we love each other," I say my usual soft tone being projected to him as if I had to make a point.

"and I love you so, so much," I added.

"there, you're off again, baby," he said grinning at the fact I usually get on a role with my sentiments, and compliments.

"because I love you," I retaliated, my smile copied his.

"and I love you too, baby," he says, his gaze turning soft in a mesmerising way, "..my baby," he added in almost a whisper

[the-reader-insert-gazette]

Our Little Dance - F!Reader x Dan Heng

Featured Column - Honkai Star Rail

She played music. He listened. That was all it was. Until Dan Heng found himself knocking on her door for reasons he wasn’t ready to name.

✒️ Word Count: 3081 🏷️ Relevant Tags: Music as Connection | Realization of Feelings | Late-Night Moments

It started the first night after she moved in. A soft thrum of music, muffled through the walls, barely there but persistent.

[Name] had been given the room next to Dan Heng’s when she officially joined the Astral Express. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. A proper room, a bed, a space to call her own after years of hopping from station to station. It had taken her some time to settle in, but once she did, her habits followed.

Including the music.

She liked to listen to it while working, while reading, while tinkering with whatever half-broken piece of tech she’d salvaged from their last stop. It was never too loud, never obnoxious. Just a comfortable background presence. A steady rhythm to match the pulse of the Express.

She hadn’t thought much of it until the knock on her door.

Not a hesitant one. Not impatient. Deliberate.

She opened it to find Dan Heng standing there, arms crossed loosely over his chest, expression as unreadable as ever.

"Can you turn it down?"

She blinked. "…What?"

"Your music," he clarified, tilting his head slightly toward the wall that separated their rooms. "It carries through."

[Name] frowned, glancing over her shoulder. The music wasn’t even at full volume. "I didn’t realize it was bothering you."

"It’s not bothering me," he said, which seemed contradictory to the fact that he was standing at her door. "I just keep hearing the same song at night."

That made her snort. "You’re keeping track?"

Dan Heng sighed, a sign she was mildly testing his patience. "It’s hard not to when it repeats."

That was fair. She did have a habit of looping songs she liked. "Alright, alright. I’ll switch it up."

She expected him to just nod and leave. That would be the natural conclusion to this conversation. But he hesitated, eyes flickering past her to the small desk where her datapad sat, still playing a soft, downtempo melody.

Then he said, "Can I make a request?"

That caught her off guard. "A request? From you?"

He gave her a look, one she couldn’t quite read, but it had the faintest edge of dry amusement. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, just unexpected," she said, stepping aside to let him in. He didn’t move immediately, and she realized why. "Oh, I’m not inviting you in. Just… tell me what you want."

He gave a small nod, as if that made more sense. "Something instrumental. String-heavy."

[Name] raised a brow. "You play?"

Dan Heng didn’t answer right away, but his gaze shifted slightly. "Not anymore."

Interesting.

"Alright," she said, making a note to look through her playlist later. "I’ll find something."

He gave a small nod before turning to leave, but just before he stepped out, she added, "You could’ve just asked earlier, y’know."

He glanced back at her. "I was waiting to see if you’d change it on your own."

"And?"

"You didn’t."

"Touché," she muttered, watching as he disappeared down the hall.

After that, she made a conscious effort to switch things up, mixing in softer instrumentals and classical pieces, curious if he’d ever comment again.

He didn’t. Not at first.

But then the pattern started.

A song would play. A few minutes later, a message would pop up on her terminal.

Dan Heng: Good choice.

Or:

Dan Heng: That’s… interesting.

And, once:

Dan Heng: That one’s too sentimental.

Which, frankly, was hilarious coming from him.

She made a game out of it, picking songs just to see what he’d say. Some days, he’d ignore it entirely. Other times, she’d catch the slightest pause when they passed in the hall, as if he was debating whether or not to comment.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A rhythm of its own.

One night, while most of the crew was gathered in the parlor car, she settled into her room, music playing as she sorted through her collection of odds and ends. That was when another message came through.

Dan Heng: Can I listen?

She stared at the screen.

She thought about teasing him for it, but something told her he’d just rescind the request, so instead, she simply sent back:

[Name]: Door’s open.

He didn’t come right away. It took a few minutes, but then there was that same deliberate knock of his.

She let him in without a word, watching as he scanned the room. It was small but lived-in now, strewn with half-finished projects, open books, a few scattered belongings that made it clear she was comfortable here.

Dan Heng moved toward the small speaker where the music played, listening. "Where is this from?"

"Old recording. Violin and erhu duet." She leaned back in her chair. "You like it?"

He didn’t answer immediately, but there was something in the way his gaze softened slightly. "It reminds me of something."

"Something good?"

A beat passed.

"Not entirely."

She didn’t press, though she wanted to.

Instead, she simply let the music fill the space between them, watching as he closed his eyes for a moment, as if letting himself get lost in it.

"Any other requests?" she asked after a while.

Dan Heng opened his eyes, glancing at her. There was something different in the way he looked at her then—less reserved, more thoughtful.

"Just keep playing," he said.

[Name] did.

She let the next song drift through the space between them, something slow, rich with strings, the kind of melody that seeped into the bones. She didn’t look at him at first, just let the music settle, let the moment breathe.

Dan Heng didn’t move right away. He stood near the speaker, hands loosely clasped in front of him, gaze focused on nothing in particular. But he was listening. She could tell by the way his shoulders eased, the way his breathing slowed to match the rhythm.

After a while, she leaned back against her desk, arms crossing over her chest. “You don’t have to stay, y’know.”

“I know.”

But he didn’t leave.

[Name] watched him for a long moment before turning back to the screen on her terminal, flipping through her playlist. She could feel him watching, not directly, but in that way he always did—quiet, perceptive, like he was trying to understand something about her without asking outright.

She smirked to herself. “You’re taking this pretty seriously for someone who wanted me to turn it down at one point.”

He huffed, barely audible, but she caught the sound.

“You’re the one who let me in,” he countered.

“You knocked.”

Dan Heng tilted his head slightly, as if conceding the point.

The music shifted to something different—still soft, still slow, but with a deeper, more layered sound. It filled the room in waves, the kind of song that made her want to move.

She tapped her fingers against her arm, then glanced at him.

“Wanna dance?”

His gaze flickered to her, then to the small space around them.

“Here?”

She raised a brow. “Why not?”

Dan Heng didn’t immediately refuse, which was already surprising. He just exhaled through his nose, considering.

Then, finally, he stepped forward. “I don’t dance.”

[Name] grinned, pushing off the desk. “Good thing I do.”

She reached for his hand, and he let her. His palm was warm, his fingers strong but careful as they curled around hers.

She guided his other hand to her waist, her own settling lightly against his shoulder. They weren’t standing that close, not really, but the space between them felt smaller than it was.

“Just follow me,” she said, voice quieter now.

Dan Heng didn’t reply, just watched her for a moment before nodding.

She led. He followed.

At first, his movements were stiff, calculated, like he was focusing too much on getting it right. But [Name] kept her steps light, easy, coaxing him into the rhythm.

“You’re good at this,” she said after a moment.

His brow furrowed slightly. “I told you. I don’t dance.”

“Not anymore,” she corrected, watching him carefully. “But you did.”

He didn’t answer, didn’t confirm or deny it. But his grip on her hand tightened slightly, and the way he moved told her everything she needed to know.

The song swelled, carrying them with it.

[Name] let herself relax into it, letting her body follow the flow of the music. Dan Heng hesitated for half a second, then did the same.

His hand at her waist adjusted, fingers pressing slightly against the fabric of her clothes. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it, he murmured,

“I think I remember now.”

[Name]’s breath caught.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Yeah?”

Dan Heng’s fingers flexed against her waist.

“It wasn’t like this,” he said, eyes searching hers. “But… it’s familiar.”

[Name] wasn’t sure why that made her chest feel tight.

She exhaled, keeping her voice light. “Hope it’s a good memory.”

Dan Heng’s lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but the music faded before he could.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have.

Neither of them stepped away.

[Name]’s fingers curled slightly against his shoulder. Dan Heng’s hand still rested at her waist.

The next song started, a softer, quieter melody.

[Name] cleared her throat. “You wanna keep going?”

Dan Heng didn’t answer right away.

Then, his thumb brushed lightly against her waist, barely there, and he nodded.

“Yes.”

So she did.

It wasn’t something [Name] thought much about—until someone else did.

She and Dan Heng had fallen into their little habit without discussion, without expectations. Sometimes he knocked, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. And sometimes—on nights when the rest of the Express was quiet, when there was nothing but the hum of space outside—they danced.

It wasn’t a big deal.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Until Caelus noticed.

"You two have a thing now, huh?"

[Name] blinked up from her seat in the parlor car, where she’d been fiddling with her terminal. "What?"

Caelus leaned against the table across from her, arms crossed, expression full of barely contained amusement. "You and Dan Heng," he said, nodding toward the hallway leading to their rooms. "You think no one notices?"

[Name] frowned. "Notices what?"

"The late-night visits. The weird silence when you two are in the same room. The way you keep looking over like you expect him to show up right now."

She scoffed, leaning back in her seat. "I don’t do that."

Caelus smirked. "You do."

She rolled her eyes, going back to her work. "We just listen to music sometimes. It’s not a big deal."

"Right." Caelus dragged out the word, unconvinced.

[Name] shot him a look. "It’s not."

He tilted his head. "So if I asked Dan Heng, he’d say the same thing?"

That made her pause.

Because, honestly? She wasn’t sure.

Dan Heng never acted like it was anything more than a shared habit. He never pushed, never asked for more. But he always came back. Always stood just close enough that she felt the warmth of him, always let his fingers linger just a little too long when their hands brushed.

And lately, she’d caught him looking at her more often—like there was something on the tip of his tongue that never quite made it into words.

Caelus grinned. "I’ll take that as a no."

"Shut up," she muttered, tossing a napkin at him.

Before he could make another comment, the door to the archives slid open, and Dan Heng stepped into the car. He didn’t say anything at first, just scanned the room until his eyes landed on her.

[Name] knew what was coming before he even spoke.

"Are you free?"

Caelus barely stifled a laugh, coughing into his fist.

[Name] pointedly ignored him as she pushed away from the table, stretching. "Yeah, sure."

Dan Heng gave a small nod, then glanced at Caelus—just for a second, just long enough to register his barely-contained grin.

Something shifted in Dan Heng’s expression. Not annoyance, not quite suspicion—just a quiet, assessing look before he turned back to her.

"Good," he said simply.

[Name] followed him out of the room, very aware of Caelus making some exaggerated gesture behind her back.

She didn’t look.

She didn’t have to.

Because the moment Dan Heng fell into step beside her, the moment his fingers brushed hers—whether intentional or not—her heart did something ridiculous in her chest.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure it wasn’t a big deal after all.

[Name] wasn’t thinking about Caelus when she followed Dan Heng down the hall.

She wasn’t thinking about what he had implied, wasn’t thinking about how obvious they must have been for him to notice.

Or, at least, she was trying not to think about it.

Dan Heng walked a step ahead, as usual. He didn’t say much, just led the way back to her room, hands clasped loosely behind his back. There was nothing unusual about it. They had done this plenty of times before.

And yet, something felt different.

Maybe it was Caelus putting the thought in her head. Maybe it was the way Dan Heng had looked at her before they left the parlor car.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated, just slightly, before stepping into her room.

[Name] crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe as he glanced toward the speaker.

"Let me guess," she said, "you have a request."

Dan Heng exhaled softly, a ghost of a huff that wasn’t quite a laugh. "No," he said. "Just… whatever you want to play."

That was new. Usually, he had an opinion.

[Name] didn’t comment on it, just flicked through her playlist and let the first song start.

Dan Heng stood there for a moment, listening, then sat at the foot of her bed like he always did.

[Name] settled across from him, arms still loosely crossed.

"You good?" she asked.

His gaze flickered to hers. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You tell me."

A beat of silence.

Then, finally, he leaned back on his hands, looking at her in that way that made her stomach feel weirdly unsteady.

"Caelus said something, didn’t he?"

[Name] blinked, startled for half a second before scowling. "Are you psychic?"

Dan Heng huffed again, shaking his head. "I saw his expression."

"Yeah, well, he thinks we have a thing."

Dan Heng’s fingers drummed lightly against the blanket. "And?"

[Name] hesitated.

And what?

And he’s wrong? And he’s right? And what does it matter?

She didn’t know what answer she was supposed to give.

"Just weird having someone else point it out," she muttered, suddenly finding a loose thread in her sleeve very interesting.

Dan Heng was quiet for a moment.

Then—

"Does it bother you?"

[Name]’s head snapped up.

He wasn’t looking at her now, just down at the floor, hands clasped loosely between his knees. But there was a carefulness in his voice.

She studied him for a moment before shaking her head.

"No," she admitted. "Do we have a thing?"

Dan Heng finally looked at her.

His gaze was steady, unreadable at first. But then—just for a second—his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for something but wasn’t sure if he should.

[Name] saw it.

Felt the way something shifted between them.

And then he finally answered, voice low and measured, "I don’t know."

The first thing that crossed her mind was how I don't know wasn’t the same as no.

The song changed in the background, another slow instrumental melody, filling the silence that stretched between them.

[Name] swallowed.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she pushed herself up, stepping in front of him.

Dan Heng blinked as she extended a hand.

"[Name]," he started, wary.

She wiggled her fingers. "C’mon."

"You’re insistent."

"You're right, I am."

Dan Heng exhaled sharply, something like resignation in the way he reached for her hand.

His palm was warm, fingers curling around hers as she tugged him to his feet.

She placed his other hand at her waist, rested her own against his shoulder.

He let her.

They started moving.

It was slower this time, quieter.

More deliberate.

[Name] felt the difference in the way he held her, in the way his grip adjusted, not hesitant, not testing, just there.

It was in the way his gaze didn’t waver when she met his eyes, in the way his fingers brushed absently against her waist when they turned.

In the way her pulse jumped when he murmured,

"You always do this when you want to distract me."

She raised a brow. "Is it working?"

Dan Heng’s lips parted slightly.

She could feel the answer in the way his fingers pressed against her waist, in the way he didn’t step back when the song slowed to its final notes.

She could see it in the way his throat bobbed when she tilted her head up slightly, closer than before, but not quite close enough.

The song ended, but neither of them moved.

[Name]’s fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his shoulder. Dan Heng’s hand was still at her waist, steady, like he was waiting for something.

She wasn’t sure who was supposed to move first.

Then, after a long moment, he exhaled softly.

"[Name]," he murmured, his voice quieter than before.

Her breath caught. "Yeah?"

Dan Heng’s gaze held hers for a second longer. Then, instead of stepping back, instead of letting go, his fingers at her waist brushed absently against the fabric of her clothes—just enough to send a small, warm shiver up her spine.

Then he said, simply, deliberately,

"We do."

[Name] blinked. "What?"

His grip tightened—just slightly, just enough to hold her there.

"We do have a thing."

[Name]’s heart kicked against her ribs.

Dan Heng wasn’t looking away, wasn’t hesitating, wasn’t guessing. He had decided.

And suddenly, every lingering glance, every late-night visit, every time he had reached for her hand, even when he didn’t have to—

It all clicked.

Her lips parted slightly, brain scrambling for something to say.

Then she huffed out a laugh, more breath than sound, and smirked up at him.

"Took us long enough."

Dan Heng’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers curled a little firmer against her waist.

Then, so quiet it was almost lost between them,

"I know."

And this time, when the next song started, he was the one to pull her closer.

[concretejunglefm]

coming to you on this fine Sunday because sub priest!Noah? corruption kink goes crazy 😵‍💫

I’m thinking you come to the confessional booth knowing he’ll be there, admitting your sin which is unholy thoughts about him ( pretending that you don’t know he’s the one on the other side ). he coaxes said thoughts out of you — without having to try too hard — all of which end with him on his knees, worshipping you. little do you know, you’ve already been his greatest temptation. and he’s not much further to claiming you as his god.

hm. I wonder what tips him over the edge 🤭

I think it’s time for him to confess to you now. lord knows there’s a lot of quality compost up there. bet he’d be such a fervent follower if you let him serve you ://

you know, I think his current necklace would also make a pretty decent leash.

I mean. AWOOGA

- @somebodyels3

all I can do is apologize, but if a man is already subservient to a god, why not make him subservient to you?

Pairing: sub!Noah Sebastian x dom f!reader.

CW: includes mentions of handjob, corruption kink, religious themes, undertones of sub/dom dynamic, kind of power dynamics, blasphemy, priest kink, slight manipulation.

NSFW below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

You’re both his greatest temptation and his greatest weakness.

If only you were aware of the power you possess to make him unravel.

Sometimes, he swears that you do, like now as you slip into the confessional booth. He knows it’s you without even seeing you. He’s heard the familiar sound of your footsteps against the stone floor as you approach, and the scent of your perfume wafts in his direction after you take your seat.

For a moment, there’s silence, and he holds his breath before hearing you clear your throat. He only releases it the moment he hears you beginning to speak.

“Forgive me, Father, for I am going to sin.”

Noah doesn’t believe that he’s heard you right, that you’re serious. You’ve attended church regularly and confessional enough to be familiar with the formalities. You must be teasing him.

You are. You're testing him.

“A preemptive sinner seeking penance? I don’t quite believe that’s how the Lord operates.” He chuckles softly and smoothly, amused by your antics enough to be desperately curious to learn more.

“Isn’t it, Father?” There’s an inflection in your tone, and he can picture the way your tongue flickers across your lips as you utter those words. The suggestive smirk that graces your lips is one he’s seen before—an image he tucks away for those lonely late nights when he believes he can hide from the eyes of God.

He can’t, not even in the privacy of his own room or a cold shower.

“No,” he says, his voice coming out strained.

“That’s unfortunate,” you giggle, and it’s an unholy sound because it only brings more unholy thoughts to his mind. “I had always hoped that by seeking forgiveness first, I could outsmart my sinful nature. Such a shame it doesn’t work that way.”

Usually, he would have a scripture he could recite, words of wisdom that would help him even in the most difficult temptations. However, he feels the urge to speak isn’t stronger than the pressure of his teeth currently pinching against the tip of his tongue, which he is using as a tactic to refrain from making a profane comment.

“Aren't you going to ask me about my sin?”

He wants to say no because you’re tempting him. He notices the breathiness in your voice and realizes that the moment he submits to you, the moment he says yes, he’ll be completely lost.

He fails.

“Yes, tell me, what is your sin?”

He knows your lips curl into a smile even without seeing you. He can hear it in your voice when you begin to answer, “I’ve been having thoughts.”

You’re not shy; you’re deliberately holding back, and he gently coaxes you, needing to hear you say it. “What kind of thoughts are you having?”

“Inappropriate ones,” you say so innocently, as if you’re not presenting yourself as the serpent who deceived Eve in the Garden of Eden into consuming the apple.

Noah takes a bite.

"Thoughts of a Carnal nature?"

“Yes”, there it is again—the breathiness in your voice. He can’t deny that it doesn’t go straight to his dick, and his slacks grow tighter around his crotch.

You continue your confession, this time without prompting. “They’re about someone I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about.” Your confession only makes his head spin further, intensifying the possibility that you could be referring to—

“Who?” He dares to ask, his heart pounding in his chest, leaning closer to the window that separates you, obstructing both your view and his chance to be closer to you.

“I shouldn’t say. He’s a man of the Lord, and it’s so very wrong.” Your tone doesn’t suggest that you’re convinced it’s wrong; in fact, you sound almost delighted in confessing it. Perhaps he’s imagining it.

It’s easy to infer who you’re referring to unless you’ve suddenly developed an interest in the other priest who attends, who is nearly 50 years your senior. Naturally, he assumes you mean him.

He attempts a different approach. “What do you…” He clears his throat, attempting to control his enthusiasm, though he already senses his cock pressing against the zipper of his slacks, yearning for release, yearning for your touch. “What do these thoughts relate to?”

“I desire him to worship me, as he does his God.” Your confession nearly makes him choke, but you persist, your voice low, soft, and breathy as you vividly describe your desires. “I yearn for him to kneel before me, to taste my divine, and to be the only one occupying his thoughts.”

Noah can't confess that you already are, that he’s seconds away from releasing his cock and fisting it right here in the booth, in the middle of your confession, which feels far more untactful than he's willing to admit.

All falls silent.

“Father?” He notices the concern in your tone, as if you’re worried you’ve scared him away. Instead of answering, he stands up and steps out from his side of the booth.

The hour is late, and there’s no one else here except you two. It wasn’t planned, but he should’ve known that his catching you hanging around the church long after service and when everyone had left would only lead to further temptation.

Opening the door to your side of the booth, his eyes scan you, admiring your Sunday best dress, a choice you always made. It’s far more enticing than another skin-tight, revealing outfit. It resembles a sundress, flowing down past your thighs but revealing enough when you sit down, adorned with thistles—another sign that you’re leading him straight into temptation, straight towards his sin.

“Father,” you look up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity, while Noah steps forward.

“Noah, please,” he offers you his name, already shifting the power balance between you, granting you more influence than anyone else in his congregation.

Your eyes wander over him, taking in the sight of his impeccable all-black ensemble. He exudes a sense of self-assurance, and as your gaze reaches the front of his slacks, you notice the bulge. In response, Noah simply clears his throat.

When your eyes meet his face once more, he’s certain you must have noticed the blush of red, the overwhelming sensations of embarrassment and shame threatening to engulf him. Yet, you remain silent, not even as your hands instinctively press to the front of his thighs, curiously ascending them and over his bulge until your fingers trace the outline of his cock.

Your gaze locks onto his, and he can’t tear his eyes away from yours. He feels your fingers gently popping the button of his slacks and the slow, deliberate unzipping of his zipper. Even if he had the willpower to stop you, he doesn’t bother. Instead, he lets out a quivering gasp when your hand finally wraps around his shaft as you slip into his underwear, your touch slow and methodical.

Your name slips from between his lips, and this is wrong—so wrong in every way possible. Yet, he can’t bring himself to stop you or pull away.

“Tell me, father, what do you have to confess?” You’re taunting him, coaxing him, and he doesn’t hold back the groans that are currently building up in his throat. They rises up and escape with every slow, teasing rub of your thumb over his sensitive tip.

There have been countless nights spent fantasizing about you in the most blasphemous ways, and he has envisioned this scenario countless times. He never imagined that it would come to fruition.

“I-I’ve had impure thoughts about you,” he stammers, and you hum in acknowledgment, as if encouraging him to elaborate.

“What kind?” As he gazes into your eyes, he perceives the flicker of heat, sensing the exhilaration as your hand tightens its grip around his cock with each rhythmic stroke.

“About you… about worshipping you.” The words burst forth from his lips before he can even pause, confessing his own impure thoughts and desires to the one who has been tempting him relentlessly.

As your hand releases him, he whimpers, while you slip free from his underwear.

Your fingers, curious, trace the cross of the rosary beads he wears around his neck. As he senses the gentle tug, testing their durability and his own, he draws nearer and falls effortlessly to his knees before you.

It unfolds so systematically that it almost seems deliberate. He drops to his knees, prepared to worship you, while you raise your dress with your free hand, exposing your already damp panties. It’s a sight that takes his breath away, his eyes soft and pleading as he gazes up at you like a dog eagerly awaiting its first meal.

“Worship me, Noah,” you purr, tugging at the rosary like a leash as you guide him closer between your thighs. He follows obediently, ready and willing to serve and obey you.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @I-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades 

[darkwicks]

calling them by their real name instead of their pet name

FEATURING Cypher, Phoenix, Sova, Yoru (separate) | gender-neutral reader; fluff, established relationship; pet names used: babe, baby, honey, my love; no beta we die like Cypher in cinematics | wc: 300-500 each

AO3. masterlist. request rules. | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

“My love, can you get me a drink, please?”

“I don’t know, Amir, can I?”

The way he slowly turns around to look at you is comical. The fact that his mask already looks like a surprised expression didn’t help you, either. You quickly drop the amusement on your features, raising an eyebrow and staring blankly at him instead. Without looking at the remote, he pauses the programme on the television as he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Did I forget something?”

You purse your lips. “What do you mean?”

“You called me Amir.”

“That’s your name.” You feign confusion. “What’s wrong with it?”

He gets up from the couch and makes his way toward you with urgency. You’re holding back a laugh as he holds your hands in his, trying to read your expression and figure you out. You didn’t think it would actually work on him. Calling him babe had been a slip of the tongue, but ever since it happened, he’s been adamant you call him that instead of Cypher. Considering you’re both often at work, that nickname is reserved for behind closed doors, within the walls of your own home.

“Are you angry at me?”

You can’t hold it in anymore—you burst into giggles, the sound filling the otherwise quiet room. Realising what you’re playing, he lets out a relieved sigh and warily takes a seat. Your little stunt had made him weak in the knees. You didn’t think it would actually work.

“I’m sorry. It was a joke,” you manage to say through your laughter. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

He slouches over. “You could have killed me.”

“It’s okay, Cypher.”

“No,” he retorts. “Not Amir. Not Cypher.”

“But that’s your name.” You can practically see the frown on his face when he looks up at you. “Why can’t I call you that?”

“It’s not good for my heart.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. His arms come to loop around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. “Is this better, honey?”

“Much better.”

Pet names had come naturally for you and Phoenix. He can’t go a sentence or two without saying love or babe. He’s affectionate with you, physically and verbally, and after watching a clip of it online, you wanted to know what he’d do if you said his name instead. 

You’re relaxing on the bed as he lays his head on your lap, sinking into the softness of your thighs. You’re still engrossed in the article you’re reading on your tablet. It’s far more interesting than you’d initially given it credit for. It’s not related to the upcoming deadlines by any means, but you’re so close to going insane after nagging your group mates several times the past week. Phoenix staying over for the weekend is the perfect opportunity for you to ease your worries. 

You’ve decided to test out the theory today, feeling particularly mischievous this afternoon. He fiddles with your fingers, staring up at the ceiling in complete boredom. You initially planned for it to be a lazy day today, having had an exhausting week, but as always, your beloved Jamie can never sit still.

“I’m just sayin’, we should go do something,” he complains and takes the tablet off your hands, tossing it to a random corner of the mattress. “You’ve been studying all week. You’re neglecting me, your boyfriend. Let’s go out and do something. Anything.”

“Sure, Jamie,” you reply offhandedly. “I’m done here anyway.”

“Great, I—Jamie?” he says incredulously, shooting you an offended look. “That’s not my name.”

“But it is your name.”

“No, I’m babe or baby. I don’t know who Jamie is.”

You glance down at him, lips curling into an amused smile. “That would be you, Jamie.”

“See? You’re doing it again!” He huffs, his brows furrowed together as he stares at you in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I’m just talking to you like I always do,” you say, holding in a laugh. “You’re the one who’s acting weird.”

“Call me properly.”

“Jamie.”

“No!” he groans. “It’s babe!”

You finally let the laughter free, your shoulders shaking with mirth as you throw your head back. After calming down, you look back at him, beyond entertained by the pure displeasure on his face.

“God, fine, you big baby.”

“That’s still not it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and pretend to be annoyed, playfully rolling your eyes. “Okay, babe, let’s go out.”

“That’s more like it,” he grumbles. “Calling me Jamie. You’re so rude. I thought you loved me.”

Needless to say, you got exactly what you wanted.

Drowsiness still lingers in your system as you drag your slipper-clad feet across the wooden floor. There’s something about winter that just leaves you so fatigued all the time. You’re more used to the summer heat, feeling the sun’s rays warming your skin and sipping cold drinks. Here, there’s nothing but snow, and as much as you love Sasha, how he can willingly stay in this kind of weather is beyond you.

As if he could sense your plight, he wraps a hand around your waist and slides a warm drink your way. An idea goes off in your head. Sleepiness be damned—you need to tease this man now. Composing yourself, you take the mug and offer him a warm, appreciative smile. 

“Thank you, Alexander.”

He freezes, a frown overtaking his features. “Have I done something wrong?”

The genuine confusion and distress in his tone makes it increasingly difficult to keep up your charade. He’s no stranger to your mischief; you tease him more times than he can count. Someone has to keep him on his toes, after all. Who else is perfect for the job, if not you? Still on a kick, you pretend nothing occurred, taking a sip of the drink and looking at him curiously.

“What?”

“You called me Alexander.” He stands in front of you, lips pursed in concern. His voice is soft, guilty over something that he didn’t do. “You never do that.”

You shrug casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Talk to me,” he says pleadingly, reaching out to cradle the side of your face. “What did I do?”

What was meant to be a silly joke winds up making you feel guilty. You only wanted to see how he’d react. The thought of actually upsetting him weighs heavy on your shoulders so you decide to give up the act, wanting to spare his feelings. Toying with someone as earnest as him was a terrible idea. 

“I was just kidding,” you chuckle awkwardly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Really.” You gently clasp your hand on top of his and nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I owe you some good loving now, don’t I?”

He returns the gesture, although there’s a hint of exasperation in his. “Yes. You do.”

You spend the rest of the morning glued to his side. He stays closer to you, talks to you more carefully. It takes several kisses for him to finally relax and be able to put his mind at rest. You’ll play around in a less worrying way next time.

You love getting on Yoru’s nerves.

You know it. He knows it. Everyone knows it. Even before you got together, you teased him a lot, revelling in his irritation. It’s all in good fun. You don’t always mess with him—contrary to popular belief, Ryo Kiritani is indeed capable of sulking—but the impulse to be a brat with him is constantly there. Your penchant for getting a rise out of him is just hard to ignore.

The market is as vibrant as ever, full of locals and tourists alike as people happily chatter in the cheery atmosphere. Bags of snacks and souvenirs hang from your wrists as you take another sip of your drink, satisfying your earlier craving for something sweet.

A mischievous smile crawls to your lips. You turn to him with enthusiasm, eyes practically twinkling in joy as you lean in closer, holding in the chuckles threatening to leave you.

“Ryo, let’s go to the photo booth.”

He stops scrolling on his phone, meeting your gaze with a look of annoyance and disbelief. “What did you call me?”

“Ryo,” you say, acting confused as to why he was asking something so obvious. “You know, your name.”

He sighs heavily and brings his hand up to your face before squishing your cheeks together, making you squeak. He clicks his tongue, frowning at the way you found a way to push his buttons so easily. You lightly swat his hand in response, unable to stop the way your laughter just pours out of your lips. Whatever he’d been looking at on his phone is long forgotten—you have his full attention now.

“Let go!”

“No.”

You’re wholly delighted.

“Ryo, let go.”

He scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?” you giggle. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Brat,” he hisses. There’s no actual vitriol in his words, just the typical affectionate exasperation. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.” Your smile grows even wider as his fingers dig into your cheeks, his frustration growing more evident with each passing second. Though very humoured by the situation, you finally relent. You’ve tested him enough. “Babe, I’m just kidding.”

Yoru narrows his eyes at you before letting go. He mutters something under his breath, presumably a complaint, and flicks you on the forehead, ignoring the show of pain you put on. It didn’t hurt. He never makes it hurt. You just like getting a reaction out of him. He’s endlessly so endearing and entertaining—it’s not your fault you want to see more of it!

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You love me.”

He huffs. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? You take that back right now!”

“It’s payback. You called me by the wrong name.”

“Babe!”

[kathlare]

heaven

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando and Amelie share a moment of intimacy, navigating their feelings for each other in the high-pressure world of racing.

Wordcount: 2.5 k

Warnings: smut

full masterlist // request over here!

April 18th, 2021 - Imola, Italy

liked by lanelieshippers, landonation, and others

ameliedaymanupdates: Amelie was seen at the paddock today for the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix! 🤍✨ As expected, she’s here supporting Checo and enjoying the race weekend. Always a queen in the paddock! 👑🏁

View all 13,786 comments

liviesupremacy: She really thought we’d forget about that song huh 😭 → dramaradio: @liviesupremacy fr she’s just walking around acting unbothered like we don’t all know the truth.

f1gossipgirl: looking STUNNING as always 😍 Honestly, at this point, she’s an honorary team member. → landoismylife: @f1gossipgirl the way she just belongs there?? Like, girl walks around like she owns the place.

notafanamelie: Ugh, why is she everywhere?? Can we get through one race without her face being shoved in our timelines? 😩

f1shadyposts: The way she’s always in the paddock but y’all still act surprised every time 💀 → pitlanechaos: @f1shadyposts literally. Like, “Amelie spotted at the paddock” yeah??? And the sky is blue??? → not_a_redbull_fan: @pitlanechaos still, she makes everything feel ✨extra✨. She’s THE moment.

amelie4ever: Can we talk about how she’s glowing??? Like damn, Lando treating her RIGHT 😌✨

hamiltongang: Still wild how people blamed her for that Olivia Rodrigo song 💀 → dramaoversteer: @hamiltongang literally. Like, people really ate that up with zero proof. → musictea: @dramaoversteer girl, the timing was suspicious tho 👀 → lanmeldefender: @musictea timing or not, Amelie isn’t a homewrecker. Next.

amelieupdates: A queen supporting a king. We love to see it. 👑🏁 → landoismygoat: @amelieupdates except the king is definitely obsessed with his queen 😏 → gridgirlenergy: @landoismygoat if this man wins today, we all know who he’s running to first.

gridgirlenergy: Anywayyyy back to important things… her outfit is 10/10 today 🔥 → fastgirly: @gridgirlenergy PERIOD. Haters can stay mad, she looks amazing as always. → pitlanequeen: @gridgirlenergy someone drop the outfit details bc I need to copy the look immediately.

-------------

Lando had barely stepped into the paddock when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Max Verstappen: Your girl just arrived.

Lando’s head snapped up instantly, scanning the entrance. And there she was.

Amelie.

She was walking in alone, her long brown hair loose, sunglasses perched on her nose, looking completely at ease despite the chaos of the paddock around her. His heart did that stupid little thing it always did when he saw her—like skipping a beat and making up for it all at once.

Without thinking twice, he unlocked his phone.

Lando Norris: I’m sneaking out. Cover for me? Max Verstappen: Always. Just don’t get caught, lover boy.

Lando didn’t waste time. He took one last glance around, making sure no one from McLaren was watching, and then made his way toward her.

Amelie hadn’t noticed him yet. She was too busy adjusting the strap of her bag, completely unaware of the chaos she was about to cause in his brain.

—Amelie.—

She turned, startled, but before she could react, Lando grabbed her wrist and tugged her into one of the quieter, shaded areas between the hospitality buildings.

—What the fuck, Lando—

But he cut her off, pressing her against the wall and kissing her like he hadn’t just seen her that morning.

Amelie barely had time to gasp before his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. She melted into it almost instantly, fingers curling into his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

—Missed you,— he murmured against her lips.

She pulled back slightly, raising an amused brow. —You saw me this morning.—

Lando groaned, pressing his forehead against hers. —That was hours ago. Way too much time.—

Amelie laughed, and fuck, he loved that sound.

He kissed her again—soft at first, then harder, like he needed to prove a point. She responded just as eagerly, hands sliding up to cup his jaw, her nails scratching lightly at the stubble growing in.

He exhaled sharply. Yeah, he was fucked.

—You’re ridiculous,— Amelie mumbled between kisses, her lips curling into a smile against his.

Lando hummed, trailing his lips down to her jaw, then to the spot just below her ear that always made her shiver. —And yet, here you are, letting me kiss you in the middle of the paddock.—

—We’re not in the middle of the paddock.—

—Close enough.— His hands tightened on her waist, he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, fast and uneven, and it made something inside him ache in the best way.

Amelie sighed, tilting her head back slightly to give him more access. —We’re gonna get caught one of these days.—

Lando grinned against her skin. —Not if Max keeps covering for us.—

At that, Amelie snorted. —Poor Max. You use him too much.—

—He loves it.— Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands still firmly on her hips. His eyes scanned her face, softening slightly. —Come to the McLaren garage today.—

Amelie hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. —Lando…—

—Come on.— His fingers traced slow circles on her waist. —You’ve been to Ferrari. You’ve been to Williams. It’s time you come to a real team.—

—Excuse me?— she gasped, smacking his shoulder lightly.

Lando laughed. —I’m serious. Just once. For me.—

—Lando, I came with Checo. He’s expecting me at Red Bull.—

—Checo’s fine with it. He knows now, remember?— Lando tilted his head, giving her a smirk. —And he secretly ships us, so he won’t care.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was considering it.

Lando pressed a quick kiss to her nose. —Please? I want you there.—

She sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but the way her hands slid back under his shirt betrayed her.

—Fine.—

Lando’s grin was instant and stupidly bright.

—Really?—

—Yes, but if people start talking about it, I’m blaming you.—

—People already talk about us, love. This will just make it more fun.—

He kissed her again, deeply, not caring if they were cutting it close to getting caught.

For now, he had her. And that was all that mattered.

-------------

liked by ameliedaymanupdates, checomylover, and others

lanmelieupdates: Amelie was spotted today at the McLaren garage watching the race in Imola, and it’s her first time supporting Lando from his team’s side! 🧡👀 We've seen her at Checo’s team garage before, but today, she’s all in for Lando and McLaren! Could this be a sign of something more? 💫🏎️

View all 29,483 comments

f1fanatic_27: Wait, Amelie in the McLaren garage for the FIRST TIME??? Okay, but this is a big deal. Does this mean things are seriously getting more serious between them? 💛 → ameliemclarenfan: @f1fanatic_27 I’m living for this! She’s definitely all in for Lando now! Team McLaren, here we go! 💫

f1queenxx: How has Amelie never watched a race from McLaren’s side before? I’m lowkey loving this! She and Lando are so cute. 😍

f1tea: Not Amelie at the McLaren garage today!! We’ve been waiting for this moment since forever 💕 Does this mean we’re gonna see more of them together now?? → speedyboi44: @f1tea omg YAS, they’ve been dropping little hints all year. I swear, they’re just so cute together. 👀 → ameliexlovers: @f1tea I am literally screaming!! If they don’t announce it soon, I will do it for them. They’re SO meant to be together. 😩✨

f1fansalways: The fact that Amelie is supporting Lando from McLaren now just shows how far they've come. I’m just here for the ride at this point. 🤩 → wobble14: @f1fansalways sameeee!! Watching them grow closer and more open has been so cute. They're like that couple who were secretly together for ages and now finally don’t care who knows. 😍

f1_realitycheck: How does she always get to be in the paddock without anyone questioning her? Like, maybe we should care about her actual qualifications for being there, not just who she’s dating. 🙄

-------------

The buzz of the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix still lingered in the air, a heady mix of adrenaline and champagne. Lando, his first podium of the season gleaming from its spot on the hotel dresser, felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling that had less to do with the celebratory drinks and more to do with the woman sitting beside him on the bed.

Amelie, her laughter still echoing from their post-race recap, was a picture of relaxed contentment. The tension of the race weekend had melted away, replaced by a soft glow that made his heart ache. He'd convinced her to stay, a feat that had required a mix of puppy-dog eyes and promises of late-night snacks, and now, with the city lights twinkling outside the window, he felt a sense of rightness he hadn't experienced in a long time.

They talked about everything and nothing – the race, the absurdity of some of the fan theories, the latest meme that had them both in stitches. The easy camaraderie that had always been the foundation of their connection was back, stronger than ever.

He watched her, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about, the way her hand gestured unconsciously as she emphasized a point. He'd missed this, missed her. He'd missed everything.

The air crackled with an unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that had been simmering between them for months. He leaned closer, his gaze fixed on her lips.

—You look beautiful,— he murmured, his voice husky.

Amelie’s laughter faded, replaced by a soft breath. Her eyes met his, a flicker of something intense passing between them.

He closed the distance, his lips brushing against hers. It was a soft, tentative kiss, a question more than a statement. She responded in kind, her lips parting slightly, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. He pulled her closer, his hands tangling in her hair, his body aching for the feel of hers. The pent-up desire, the weeks of unspoken longing, erupted in a flurry of heated touches and whispered moans.

They’d been here before, this dance of desire, this push and pull of attraction. But tonight felt different. Tonight, the unspoken boundaries seemed to dissolve, the unspoken rules seemed to fade away.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. —Amelie,— he breathed, his voice rough.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and something else, something he couldn't quite decipher.

He knew what he wanted. He knew what he needed. He wanted her, all of her. He needed to feel her against him, to lose himself in the heat of their passion.

He started with what was comfortable, the usual routine that they had between them, the playful teasing that they both enjoyed. Amelie, as always, was a willing participant, her hands exploring his body with a familiar confidence.

But tonight, the familiar wasn't enough.

A nervous energy vibrated through him. He paused, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what he wanted, and he knew she would let him. But the thought of crossing that line, of giving himself completely to her, filled him with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

A nervous energy vibrated through him. He paused, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what he wanted, and he knew she would let him. But the thought of crossing that line, of giving himself completely to her, filled him with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Amelie’s eyes softened, her hand gently tracing the line of his jaw. —Lando?— she whispered, her voice laced with concern.

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers. —I… I want to,— he stammered, his voice barely audible.

She smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile that eased the tension in his shoulders. —I know,— she said softly. —And it’s okay if you’re not ready.—

He shook his head, his determination solidifying. —No. I am. I want this. I want you.—

Amelie’s smile widened, a hint of mischief flickering in her eyes. —Then show me,— she purred, her voice husky.

He leaned in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. He moved his hands, exploring the curves of her body, tracing the delicate lines of her skin. Amelie responded in kind, her touch igniting a fire within him, a burning desire that consumed him.

They moved together, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in unison. The familiar dance of desire escalated, becoming more intense, more passionate.

He paused again, his eyes meeting hers. —Are you sure?— he asked, his voice rough.

Amelie nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness. —Yes, Lando. I’m sure.—

He moved between her legs, his hands cupping her hips, pulling her closer. He could feel her heat, her desire, her readiness. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest.

Amelie reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch grounding him. —It’s okay,— she whispered. —I’m here.—

He took a deep breath, his resolve solidifying. He pushed inside her, slowly, gently, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt a sharp sting, a brief moment of discomfort, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth, the fullness, the sheer intimacy of the moment.

Amelie gasped, her body tensing, but she didn’t pull away. She met his gaze, her eyes filled with understanding and reassurance.

—It’s okay,— she murmured, her voice soft. —Just breathe.—

He moved slowly, carefully, his movements guided by instinct and the unspoken language of their bodies. Amelie’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging lightly into his skin, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

The initial discomfort faded, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He moved deeper, his rhythm finding a natural cadence, his body moving in sync with hers. Amelie’s moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that echoed his own.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and adoration. She was beautiful, radiant, her body glowing in the soft light of the city. He felt a surge of love, a feeling so intense it took his breath away.

He moved faster, harder, his movements driven by a primal urge, a need to lose himself in the heat of their passion. Amelie’s cries grew louder, her body arching beneath him, her fingers digging into his back.

He felt her climax building, her muscles tightening around him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He reached down, his fingers finding the sensitive spot that made her cry out his name.

He felt his own release, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over him. He cried out, his voice hoarse, his body tensing, then releasing.

They lay there, their bodies intertwined, their breaths slowing, their hearts still pounding in unison. He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers.

—Wow,— he breathed, his voice rough.

Amelie smiled, her eyes filled with tenderness. —Yeah,— she whispered. —Wow.—

He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her, holding her tight against him. He felt a sense of peace, a sense of rightness, he’d never experienced before.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with love. —I… I didn’t know it could be like this,— he stammered, his voice barely audible.

Amelie smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. —Like what?— she asked softly.

He hesitated, searching for the right words. —Like… heaven,— he finally whispered.

Amelie’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling. —Me neither,— she murmured, her voice laced with amusement.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d waited so long. He couldn’t believe he’d been so nervous.

He kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of unspoken emotions and unspoken promises.

They lay there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just holding each other, their bodies still warm from their passion. He felt a sense of contentment, a sense of belonging, he’d never felt before.

He knew that this was just the beginning, that they were embarking on a new chapter in their relationship. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew that he wanted to explore it with her, to experience everything with her.

He closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of Amelie, her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at him. He felt a sense of gratitude, a sense of overwhelming love.

He drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped around her, his heart filled with a warmth that spread through his entire being. He was in heaven, and she was his angel.

[loadinghellsing]

@madderbatter

[thingsidrawgohere]

Alright. I'm calling it done before it kills me. This is Second Head. It's an Art Book containing instances of the phrase "second head" in fanfics found on AO3. I'll explain much, MUCH more in the cut.

So when I say 'art book', I mean this is an intrinsic piece. I have no motivations aside from personal amusement and interest in outcome. A lot of money was lost/transmuted into free frustration in this project and I have no claims, obviously. I will prolly be the only person alive to read this.

THAT SAID. I have noticed in my years reading fanfic, there's a few linguistic shibboleths that arise in authors who also have experience in the mines. I think there's not a soul alive who hadn't wandered across a 'ministrations' when reading Narutos oral sexing. There's- Hold on. Here's some pix.

There's an impulse, I think, to in-group even when performing a creative act. A feeling that there are certain ways one Should go about the act, by virtue of seeing it performed that way. Especially so when 'training' at the act is often just Doing. Double Dog Especially when the act is exclusively for oneself with very little oversight. Which is to say, we make what we see and we make what we think we should make. At least, at first.

Now, I've been noticing 'grew a second head' (to insinuate surprise) in fanfic for some time. I've never seen it used Outside of fanfic. (Edit to add: I am not making the argument the phrase is from fanfic. Nor do I Believe it is from fanfic. Jesus Hopping Christ, people. That's not what this project is about.) That may speak to my own bad habits but it got me curious. So a friend and myself downloaded a mirror of AO3 from July of 2024. He did some code- Stuff to scan the mirror for "second head" and of the ~13 million works, ~70k (English) results were returned. That's a rounding error, honestly, but Far FAR more than I expected.

This book is 401 such examples that I personally selected for a variety of reasons. The number itself was arbitrarily chosen. Each page is separate fic, the roughly 300 words around our key phrase.

I don't think repetition or mirroring is a negative thing. I think it's quite charming. Nor do I think it's a sign of a 'bad' artist or 'bad' art. I think it's a signifier of personhood, of belonging, of enthusiasm. Of culture shared and wishing to share. I think it's real sweet. I always smile when I catch a 'grown a second head' in a work.

And it's really fucking funny when it's John Sherlock getting a sloppy toppy. Bless.

Edit: Fixed a very VERY funny error.

Edit: I am not making the argument that the phrase is exclusive to fanfic or, fucking forbid, FROM fanfic. I'm stating this Again because we skim here. Also- If you would like slamdunk my ass by stating the phrase predates the Internet or your GenX parents use it, please use 'sailboat' in your comment so I know you're specifically trying to kill me.

Edit Edit: You know what? Fine. I DO think this phrase came from fandom. I think ENGLISH came from fandom. I think YOU came from fandom. I think EVERYTHING came from fandom. The Sun, the Moon, the Seas- Fandom. Specifically Sonic Mpreg. The second head was Shadow the Hedgehog crowning. Congrats!

[enviedear]

jason todd rarely got upset with you. honestly—a very rare occurrence.

but tonight—as you stumble through the door, giggling to yourself as you struggle with your heels. he definitely gives you a look.

“ohhh, i know that face,” you slur, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “you're mad.” you draw out your last word, ending with a hum.

jason, who's still leaning against the couch with his arms crossed, exhales through his nose. “babe, s'just my face.”

you snort, finally kicking your shoes off with an exaggerated sigh. “my hero,” you murmur dramatically, flopping onto the couch beside him, head immediately landing on his shoulder. “you’re so comfy.”

he shakes his head, amused, as he catches you before you slide all the way down. “how much did you drink?”

you hold up three fingers, then squint, “wait…maybe four?”

“that’s not an answer.”

you wave a dismissive hand. “steph had us do rounds. ‘sides, i’m fine.”

he lets out a low chuckle, warm and fond. “yeah, i can see that.”

you tilt your head up at him, pouting. “why weren’t you there, huh? you coulda kept me from gettin’ so tipsy.”

“because it was girls’ night.”

you gasp, poking at his chest. “you said you wanted to crash next time.”

“i take it back.” a grumble, deep in his chest.

“rude,” you huff, snuggling further into him. “i missed you, though.”

his arm slides around you properly then, pulling you close. “yeah?”

“mhmm,” you hum, pressing a messy kiss to his jaw. “missed my handsome, broody boyfriend.” another kiss, “missed your grumpy face.”

“i’m not grumpy,” he mutters, but he doesn’t stop you, his fingers tracing slow circles against your back.

you nuzzle into him, eyelids drooping. “love you, jay.”

his breath hitches. then his grip on you tightens, lips pressing into your hair, “love you too, drunkard.”

you hum happily, already halfway to sleep in his arms.

writer's note .☘︎ ݁˖ heavily inspired by my sweet bf taking care of my annoying drunk ass. also because i think everyone wants to go home to a pouty jason todd. there's no way i'm alone here. comments and reblogs appreciated

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works | moodboard for this drabble

[elixirfromthestars]

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong. 

[lilreidgirl]

Do I wanna know?

Summary: You and Drew are best friends, but you want more. What happens when you get invited to a day out on Drew’s friend’s yacht and get more?

Warnings: MDNI(18+), fem!reader, thigh riding, daddy kink, nicknames used (princess, baby, little lady, good girl…), kissing, alcohol (beer), swearing, no use of (y/n), reader wears a skirt, shy!reader, pining amongst friends, English is not my first language, if I forgot anything; please let me know!!

WC: ~2.4k (no idea how that happened)

A/N: I got inspired by this photo so I wrote this at like 2 am and I’m posting it now at 5 am, this is a mess, gn my loves (NOT PROOF READ, SORRY) (also this is my first fic about Drew so yeah)

When your best friend, Drew Starkey, invited you to a small get together on his friend’s yacht, you were more than willing to go. You and him had been friends since years, getting to know each other through mutual friends and suddenly you were eating take out with a b-list celebrity every other night.

You twirled around in front of your full body sized mirror, watching with amusement as your skirt twirls with you, the ruffles bouncing as they fluttered in the wind.

“Wow. Really doesn’t take much to get a smile on that pretty little face of yours, huh?” Drew chuckled as he watched you spin around.

Startled by his voice you stopped your little turns, looking at him with a small playful glare when the dizzy fog finally cleared from your vision.

“I’m just a happy person. You should try it sometime” you shot back, but you knew it was no use. Drew was great at talking, arguing, whatever. He was great with people in a way you just couldn’t figure out for yourself.

But honestly? You were fine just standing on the sidelines watching him do his thing, waiting for him to abandon that and come talk to you for a bit.

You had been fine with it.

Lately every time he laughed and grinned at one of your sarcastic comments and every time he stared at you like he was a theoretical physicist and you had the answers to string theory, you couldn’t help but want more. Couldn’t help but want that “best friend” status to be upgraded to “girlfriend”. Hell, you even dreamt of being called his wife.

For now though, you were just going to try and enjoy the day on a luxurious boat.

Soon you found yourselves in the car. You clicked on random songs on your phone and sand along to the “wait, this is the best part, shut up”’s before yet again changing the song as Drew drove to the harbour, admiring the way you seemed so enthralled by the different songs and music.

“Would love to continue listening to your big world tour concert, little lady, but we’re here,” he announced once he’d gotten the car carefully parked.

Excitedly, you jumped out of Drew’s car, watching as he did the same before you both made your way closer to the water where many ships floated atop the sea.

At the same time, you both spotted Drew’s group of friends, waving at them as they saw you two as well.

You’d gotten to know them a bit but the amount of group hangouts you attended, didn’t really allow you to form a strong bond to any of Drew’s friends.

What can you say?

You’re just not a people person.

You’re a person person.

A Drew person.

You squashed the ridiculous thought, giggling it off before you checked that your outfit was neatly in order.

Upon seeing you inspecting your clothes, Drew leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath tantalizingly brushed against your ear and neck as he spoke, “You look amazing, baby, don’t worry.”

As you reached the boat, the smile you had shared for a few enchanting seconds came to a sudden end.

“Hey, Drew!” Various different voices greeted the both of you and you both returned the favour with just as much enthusiasm.

One of the guys, the one whose yacht it was presumably, invited everyone aboard.

Your eyes flitted to everything around you, spotting a few seats, some complicated looking boat equipment and random day-to-day fun stuff lying around.

The smell of fish and sea breeze filled the air and your nostrils, but that scent quickly evaporated when Drew stepped next to you, finally finished with catching up with his friend and was now holding out a beer bottle for you to take. His cologne took over, overwhelming your senses. Something you were definitely not complaining about.

You accepted the beer from him, taking a sip before handing it back to him and watching as he repeated your action of drinking from the bottle.

Your gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple as it bobs when he took gulps of the alcoholic drink. He lowered the glass container from his lips, putting his strong bicep right in your line of sight.

As embarrassing as it is to admit you could have almost moaned from just looking at his muscly arm.

He must have taken off his shirt sometime between helping you up the steps on the side of the ship, his hand securely wrapped around your thigh to keep you from falling, and when he seemingly appeared behind you as you admired your surroundings.

Then your eyes found his chest, strong pecs priding over his abs that seemed carved from the very marble that Michelangelo had used to sculpt David, each muscle defined with an almost perfect precision to it.

Just before you could take a good look at his black swim shorts hanging off his hips and hugging his beefy thighs, his voice called your name.

“Hey, come on, picture time,” he reiterated what he had said when you were still zoned out.

“Oh. Okay,” Throwing your thoughts back into reality, you watched as everyone made their way over to the discussed upon place where the photo would be taken.

“Who wants to set the timer?” A girl, who you’d forgotten the name of, asked.

Something with an F? L? A? Who cares.

“Not it!” Was called by everyone but you, your face quickly morphing from a surprised look of “who the hell still uses ‘not it’?” to an accepting face that you were in fact “it”.

The girls and boys all took their places on the netting of the boat. The 5 people in front of you got ready to pose for the group photo.

Efficiently, you adjusted the tripod so that the camera of the phone pointed perfectly towards the centre of everyone.

You bent down, looking at the screen of the mobile. You saw Drew depicted by many pixels, your thighs clenching when he moved his hips up to readjust his position on the midnight blue blanket that lay sprawled over the rough nylon net.

Fuck, he was perfect.

Of course, you fixed your hair one last time before pressing the white button on the right side of the device, starting the 10 second countdown until the picture.

Swiftly, you made your way around the tripod, and plopped down onto the free space between a dark haired guy, you’ve come to know as Matthew, and Drew. You smiled sweetly at the round circles on the back of the phone as Drew slung an arm around your shoulders.

Once the photo was taken, everyone scattered and the usual chatter was back. You ran up to the phone and you looked at the image.

Well fuck.

Drew looked absolutely freaking ethereal.

His sitting in a reclined position with one leg bent and the other stretched out, manspreading, almost made you go feral. He was smiling widely toward the camera, his impossibly bright grin attracting all the attention in the photo.

His body looked like a dream. For a moment, you thought maybe you were dreaming, if you were you would hold onto the memory of the photo, even if it was just a dream, for the rest of your life.

God, pining for your hot best friend made you sound so so pathetic.

The thought that what you were experiencing was just a dream was snapped in two like a twig when Drew came up from behind you and flicked your bare back.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, a frown forming on your face.

“‘M sorry, princess,” he swung his arms over your shoulders, holding on to you from behind like a koala would his mother, peering at the screen in your hands.

“Did it turn out good?” He asked casually, acting as if he didn’t see how your face was blushing an awfully deep shade of red and don’t even start to think that he missed the way you were obviously turned on.

“Yup,” you answered curtly, ducking down to be released of any physical contact with him, because you felt as if you would melt if he touched you a second longer.

“I’m um… gonna go below deck. The sun uh- it’s hitting me pretty hard right now. I have a headache,” you lied, coming up with some excuse to just get yourself somewhere where you can have your alone time.

“O…kay…” He didn’t seem convinced but that wasn’t for you to deal with in that moment. You made your way down the stairs leading below the deck of the ship, the room was nice and cozy.

With a sigh of relief you sat down on a wooden bench near the kitchen and slipped your phone out of your purse.

After a few minutes of mindlessly scrolling through various social media apps you heard footsteps nearing you, causing you to look up.

Your eyes met none other than Drew Starkey himself.

“On your phone when you have a headache? Really?” He asked unamused. “You lyin’ about the headache or you just stupid?”

“Stupid…?” you offered in a quiet meek voice.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what’s the problem, huh? You don’t like my friends or something?” He questioned as he sat himself down next to you on the oak plank.

“No, no, they’re great, I just…” You really should have been able to come up with something to say but the way his forearm was flexing as it rested on his thigh distracted you.

A smirk grew on Drew’s face. “No yeah, I uh-“ he chucked as he shook his head in what looked like slight disbelief, “I know.”

Unsure of the true meaning behind his comment you averted your eyes to the floor, focusing on the swaying of the boat on the water instead of Drew’s piercing blue eyes staring intently at you.

He leaned back with a sigh, his legs spreading wider and his arm sneaking behind your back and around your waist. “You’re kind of ridiculous, you know that?”

All you could do was nod which earned you yet another laugh from Drew.

Just as you were about to persuade yourself to actually speak, you were pulled onto Drew’s lap by his arm, his hands quickly settling you on his thighs.

“Wha-“

“I know, princess,” he cooed.

You know you should have felt at least slightly degraded or mad because of his tone but the only thing it did, was make you want to clench your thighs together. Which of course wasn’t possible because each of your legs rested on different sides of Drew.

“You look so pretty today, baby,” he said, tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear before moving his face down to your neck and pressing soft, fleeting, sensational kisses to the side of your collar.

Your breathing became panted and you unintentionally slowly rubbed your core along the material of his pitch black swim trunks.

“Not even a thank you?” He murmured teasingly as his kisses walked over to the area right under your ear and his large hands gripped your hips harshly, stopping you from any further movement.

“Th- thank you…” You whispered, your tone dipped and coated in your lust and arousal.

You felt a small nip on your throat that made you let out a small “Ah-!”

“Thank you…?” He muttered expectantly.

“Sir?” You tried, getting your confirmation of that being the wrong answer when a more harsh bite was left just under your jawline.

“Daddy..” you practically moaned out, the small pleasure that you got from the bites making you rut against Drew’s strong hold on your body.

“Good girl…” he praised, his face finally coming up to meet yours, kissing you softly but also at the same time with an unforeseeable force.

His fingers stopped drilling into the skin over your hipbones, letting you push your aching core down onto his covered thigh.

He broke the kiss, his plump lips and hot breath trailing over your cheek as you both gasped from air.

His hand roughly grabbed the back of your head, wrapping his fingers around your messy hair, holding you tight against him.

Immediately after, his other hand took hold of your hip again, helping you grind down on his swim pants.

“That’s right, baby, use daddy’s leg,” he breathed out heavily.

“Such,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your jawline, “a,” another kiss was placed on the corner of your mouth, “good,” he said before pecking your lips, “girl,” he murmured into your mouth before shoving his tongue down your throat.

The press of his thigh onto your bikini bottom made a perfect friction emerge against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“What about-“ you started.

“I locked the door, sweetheart, no worries.”

The way he basically read your mind made you feel even more turned on.

Your folds rubbed back and forth in your

soaking wet swim bottoms as you gripped Drew’s shoulders tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he continued to spew out praise after praise to you.

Suddenly a knock resounded throughout the room, a sudden halt coming to your despicable actions.

“Hello? Anyone in here? Why is the door locked?” A female voice asked from the other side of the door.

“One second!” Drew called before returning his attention to you.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” All you could do was nod, still completely dazed.

He picked you up off his lap, helping you settle back into a standing position and smoothing out both of your guys’ clothes.

With a casual smile on his face he unlocked and opened the door, spouting out some excuse for the door being locked before leading you upstairs with him.

For the rest of the afternoon, you sat, with a drink in hand, watching Drew talk amongst his friends, his eyes flicking to you every once in a short while.

Once other people started leaving and the sun started setting, he walked up to you.

“Ready to leave, princess?”

“Uh-huh,” you uttered out, standing up and saying your goodbyes to everyone that still found themselves on the yacht.

As you walked down the dock, admiring the sunset, you gripped onto Drew’s arm.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with an “Are you serious?” face, annoyed at his nonchalant antics.

“Gee, sorry, okay?” He chuckled.

“I’ll make you feel good soon. Don’t worry, little lady.”

@emma-e-a

[fairy-angel222]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏✶𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

GETO SUGURU X FEM! READER

✶⋆.˚cw: smut, choking, pussy and face slapping, praise, degradation, recording, breeding, dumbfication, i love you’s

✶⋆.˚a/n: first one shot in a line set up for this whole concept ;) requested by anon.

Geto was a kinky man when he wanted to be. Loving the idea of recording each time he fucked you. Balls slapping noisily onto your wet clit as his hand curled in your hair. Lifting your face up into the camera with a degrading coo.

It was a fit of pure boredom that brought him to take it one step further. Convincing you that you two should share the videos. Make everyone see just how good he was destroying you in bed.

When you had agreed, you had never expected the millions of notifications you received within the first week. The comments on how hot you two were as a couple. How hot Geto looked fucking into you. How hot you looked getting fucked by Geto.

You even received some suggestions on videos your new “fans” wanted to see. Hundreds of thousands of people willing to watch, to get off to, anything that you two decided to post.

It was scary and amusing, but Geto was all for it. His chest swelled with pride knowing that so many men now wanted you but couldn’t have you. Knowing that he was the only one who could fuck you so damn good.

You never expected to find yourself agreeing, your lip between your teeth as you read through the comments. Some of the bold suggestions making your thighs clench at the thought of your boyfriend doing these things to you.

The account quickly rose to the top as the weeks went by. And you never got tired of the many positions Geto would flip you into, fucking into you meanly while praising you so degradingly. Showing the world how fast you turned to putty in his hold.

You attracted many different audiences. Your favorite were those girls who swooned not at him, but at you two on a whole. The way he held you, the way he checked up on you when he was done being rough. The aftercare. They thought your relationship was perfect, and would never fail to let you know.

It wasn’t long until people began demanding more of you two in a non porn setting, your other social medias blowing up with those who just couldn’t get enough of your lives. How much cuter Geto was with you out of bed. The many dates he took you on, the gifts he bought you. Everything.

It became something that your fans loved to see. Your relationship on a whole. Their little comments like ‘so cute!’ , ‘i love them so much’ , ‘you guys need to get married’ , ‘my favorite couple ever’ never failed to make your heart swell.

They respected your privacy of course. But would take anything that was put out for their consumption. Porn or otherwise.

—

“𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃’𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊”

Was what the title of your latest video read, your fans quick to click on the thumbnail the second it got posted. Many already positioning themselves on their beds. Others plugging in their headphones around coworkers or friends. They knew from a mere four seconds in that they already loved what they saw.

Your hands and knees were trembling as your back arched. Fat tears flowing down your cheeks as you begged your boyfriend to touch you. “Please Sugu— please touch me. Wanna feel your cock so bad.” You moaned, wiggling your ass towards him with a needy mewl.

“Does my greedy girl want me to fuck her dumb? Is that what you want pretty?”

“Mhm, need you.”

He was more than happy to comply, not taking long until he was fucking into you roughly from behind. Your body jerking forward each time his hips hammered against your ass.

“S-suguu. Feels so good,” You mewled, Geto’s hand snaking around your throat to pull you up against his chest, forcing you to make eye contact with the blinking red light in front of you.

His breath fanned your ear, lips ghosting over your skin as he groaned deeply. “If only you could see what they see baby. See yourself moan like a slut in heat while that pretty lil’ pussy sucks me in.”

You let out a loud hiccuped moan, Geto’s cock slamming meanly into your g spot before fucking deep inside you. The small outline of his tip barely visible to the device’s lens. “See how much of a mess you are f’me.”

He felt so good. And your head was spinning as he fucked into you with no mercy. Your shaky whimpers echoing throughout the room as Geto molded your pussy around his cock.

“Nngh— sugu ‘m so full. Love your cock s’ muchh.” Your words were slurred as his other hand reached around to rub small circles on your clit. Your sopping pussy leaking lewdly onto the sheets below as he continued to roll his hips up into you.

“Tell them who’s fucking you so good baby.” He grunted, hand on your throat landing two soft slaps onto each of your teary cheeks before settling right back into place on your neck. The light sting pulling a string of whiney moans past your drool filled lips as you pressed further into him.

“You are. You are Sugu. You’re f-fucking me so good ‘nd i love it— haah. Wan’ you to fuck me like this forever.” You babbled, words muffled by an incoherent cry as your hands gripped his muscular arm. Using him for support when your head grew fuzzy, blanking out everything but the feeling of him inside you.

Geto smirked, “That’s my girl.”

You yelped when you were shoved into the mattress. Your back arched deeply with your torso flat on the sheets. Geto’s hand on the back of your neck forcing you to stay cheek down as he switched up his pace.

The new position allowed him to hit so much deeper. Your needy cries going straight to his cock as you drooled messily. Eyes rolling back with a loud moan every time he gave you a harsh thrust forward, sensitive nipples rubbing on the bed till you were clenching down repeatedly. Loud squelches filling the air as your pussy coated his cock in its slick.

“Sugu, ‘m gonna cum.” A trembling cry. “‘M so close.” You could feel your stomach tightening, breathing getting heavier as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“Yeah? Gonna make a fucking mess for me. Show them how good i fucked you today?” He cooed, watching as you nodded dumbly before letting out a choked moan. “Mhm.”

Geto groaned, palm landing onto your clit so he could watch you jerk with a whimper. Your body quivering when he pulled back you up, arms hooking under your legs to lift you off the bed. Body being moved up and down as he used you as his personal fleshlight. Bouncing you on and off his cock till you were crying uncontrollably, his harsh kisses to your sweet spot shooting to every sensitive nerve in your pussy.

“Suguruu. I- nngh, you’re— ahh.” You didn’t know what you were trying to say, your body being manhandled however he liked for your tight pussy to stroke his length. Your toes curling as your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Shhh baby, it’s okay. Just take it yeah? Doing so fucking well.” Your legs remained dangling over his arms as he used you to both your delights, feeling yourself ready to let go with another shrieked cry. “F-fuckk. ‘M gonna— oh god.”

“You know they love to see that pretty face when you cum baby, look up at the camera f’me.”

You did as you told, head spinning as you attempted to keep it up right. Focusing on the delicious stretch of your walls to accommodate your boyfriend’s girth.

“Go on baby. Let go. ‘M right there behind you.”

Your mouth hung open in what your fans liked to call an adorable scream as your legs shook. Glossy eyes making content with the camera as you squirted messily. The force of the clear liquid making Geto grunt when it threatened to push his cock out of you.

“There you go.. fuck— that’s my good girl. ‘M gonna fill you up so good now. Gonna stuff that tight pussy to the brim with my cum.” He husked, movements getting sloppy as his abs tensed. Lips parted in deep breaths as his eyes rolled back, something that your audience loved to see.

His cock twitching within your warmth with a string of cracked groans when he buried himself deep. Allowing himself to pump you full of the creamy liquid, painting your insides in sticky white.

He pulled out slowly, still holding you up so the camera could pick up the way your little gaped hole fluttered around nothing. His cum running down your puffy folds in thick spurts. “Look at that baby, sopping pussy’s making a big mess.”

Geto set you down with a smile before kissing you sweetly, taking you into his arms and rocking you back and forth in a hug while placing tiny pecks all over your face. “You did so fucking amazing. That was hot.” Leaning into your ear so that his next words wouldn’t be picked up. “If they don’t jerk off to this i promise you i will.”

You could only hum with flushed cheeks , falling into his chest with a small giggle. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, “Ya hear that? She can’t feel her legs.” He grinned at the camera making you both laugh, his attention turning back to you with another passionate kiss. “Don’t worry, i’m gonna get you all mice and cleaned up okay? Gonna take real good care of you.”

“M’kay, love you Sugu.”

“I love you more sweetheart.”

—

It was no surprise the amount of love you got for the video. It was hard to believe that your account could grow anymore than it already had. The comments seemed to be hooked on how Geto could go from fucking you relentlessly to being the sweetest boyfriend telling you that he loves you.

That amongst thousands of men making it known that they came to the sight of you squirting, that one made Geto a little angry. And the thousands of women begging your boyfriend to be next, like that would ever happen.

You refrained the urge to respond to all the demands for more with the fact that you had loads of others coming up. Some with your boyfriend alone and others with.. guests. But they would have to have the patience to see for themselves.