#<- Anon ／ User

[biobe]

hihi recently read from me to you for us by @otooga and oh. em. gee. it's soooo good and scratches my brain in all the right places. here are some of my favourite scenes!

[tumbler-polls]

[diamonddaze01]

14 “You broke what?!” With Coupsie where reader kind of distracts him with kisses and 😏😏😏 because she broke something thank you your drabbles are so cute!

uh oh

pairing: csc x f!reader | wc: 1.0k au: billionaire!cheol, suggestive | warnings: none a/n: hello nonie ur so sweet i hope u love this

The warm, golden light of the bedroom bathed you in a soft glow as you danced around to a song playing faintly from your phone. The hem of your satin slip fluttered with each sway of your hips, brushing against your thighs. It was late, the kind of late where everything felt dreamlike and lighthearted, and the weight of the day had melted away into a pocket of joy that you carried in the privacy of your home.

You twirled, your arms outstretched, pretending the bedroom was a stage meant just for you. The outside world didn’t exist. It was just the music, the warmth of the room, and the giddy anticipation of Seungcheol coming home. You hummed along to the melody, the sound barely audible over the soft shuffle of your bare feet against the rug.

But in your enthusiasm, your elbow caught something solid. A sharp thud followed. Then, a sound that sent dread shooting straight to your core: glass shattering. 

You froze mid-spin, the music still humming in the background as your gaze darted to the nightstand. Your heart plummeted.

Seungcheol’s newest luxury watch—his favorite one, the newest De Bethune—lay face down on the floor, shards of its crystal face scattered around like delicate, broken stars.

“Oh no, no, no, no…” you whispered, crouching down to assess the damage. The face was cracked beyond repair, the delicate hands of the watch bent at awkward angles. It looked as though it had been run over by a truck.

Panic swelled in your chest as you frantically gathered the pieces, as though somehow assembling them would undo everything. "He’s going to kill me," you muttered under your breath, your mind racing for a plan.

And then, as if fate wanted to twist the knife further, you heard the front door open downstairs.

"Fuck," you breathed, glancing at the shards still on the nightstand. A wild panic took over as you swept them behind a picture frame and stood abruptly, smoothing down the satin slip and wiping your clammy hands on your thighs. You plastered on what you hoped was a convincing smile just as his footsteps began ascending the stairs.

The bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Seungcheol stood in the doorway, his suit slightly rumpled from a long day, his tie loosened just enough to make your heart skip a beat. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze softening the instant it landed on you.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice warm and gravelly, "what are you still doing up?"

Without thinking, you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace before pulling back just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. His surprised grunt melted into a low chuckle as his hands found their home on your waist.

"Welcome home," you murmured against his lips, tugging lightly at the knot in his tie.

His brow arched, and a teasing grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What’s with the sudden enthusiasm? Miss me that much?"

You hummed noncommittally, pushing his jacket off his broad shoulders. It hit the floor with a soft thud as you leaned in to kiss him again, your fingers deftly working to undo the first button of his shirt.

It was working. He seemed utterly distracted, his attention fixed on you and not the broken watch hidden on the nightstand.

But Seungcheol wasn’t the type to miss details. As you tilted your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, his sharp eyes caught the faint glint of shattered glass on the floor. His gaze flicked to the nightstand, then to the guilt practically painted across your face.

“What are you hiding from me, troublemaker?” he breathed against your lips, his tone low and teasing.

Damn it.

You tried to cover your panic with another kiss, pulling him closer by his tie. "I, uh—" You punctuated each word with a quick kiss, hoping to stall him long enough for an escape plan to form. But then it all tumbled out in a breathless rush. "IwasdancingandthenIaccidentallyknockedoveryourwatchI'msosorry!"

His brows shot up. "You broke what?!"

You froze, your lips still parted mid-breath, caught like a deer in headlights. "I—uh—it was an accident?"

His hands slid from your waist to your thighs in one fluid motion, and before you could process it, he was lifting you into his arms.

"Cheol!" you shrieked, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bed with that signature grin of his, somewhere between exasperated and utterly smitten.

He set you down on the mattress, hovering over you as you tried to bury your face in your hands. "I’m sorry about the watch," you mumbled sheepishly, peeking at him through your fingers.

He laughed, the sound rich and low as he gently pried your hands away from your face. "Sweetheart, what’s money for," he teased, leaning in close, "if I can’t buy a new watch?"

Still, guilt nagged at you. "It was your favorite one," you argued softly, your fingers finding his loosened tie again. "You kept showing it off to everyone."

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "And now I’ll have a reason to get an even nicer one," he said, his voice dipping lower.

You rolled your eyes, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered.

"And you’re lucky I can’t be mad at you," he quipped, his lips brushing against yours as he pinned you to the bed. His tie slipped free, forgotten somewhere near the floor. "Especially not when you’re in this little number, looking at me like that."

Your laughter mingled with his as the tension melted away. Whatever guilt you’d felt about the watch was long gone as his lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"Guess I’ll be extra careful next time I’m dancing," you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands explored the soft fabric of your slip.

"Next time," he replied between kisses, "I’ll dance with you."

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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[mesetacadre]

what's wrong with the concept of technofeudalism?, honest question 😅

It's based on disregarding capitalism as an antiquated term to refer to the current economic structure of society, it's no longer capitalist (for varoufakis meaning when there is a market with more or less free competition between different agents) but technofeudal (high levels of monopolization of markets and logistics like feudal lords (?) but it's modern instead of medieval, so technofeudal). Jeff Bezos (it's Amazon's board, actually) controls large amounts of global shipping which means Bezos is like a feudal lord but with technology instead of tilled fields, and with employees instead of peasants. It's an extremely liberal point of view, it's positing capitalism as a system based on the free market, and the logical conclusion of this outlook is a "restoration" of "free market capitalism". The defining trait of capitalism is the private ownership of the means of production and the exploitation of labor-power carried out by a class lacking in that private property, only upheld by the salary they're paid, a fraction of the value they create. This has not changed regardless of the amount of capitalists that make up the capitalist class.

[hinamie]

theyre soft your honour

[beescake]

what if.......

karkat...............

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

[eraserbread]

I would die for curse user! Nanami

you wonder if your friends can see the unease in your face. they're all laughing around you, smoking, drinking and being... friends. it's hard to pull yourself together enough to be here, but you try. they deserve the best, most social part of you.

but its so fucked because he's supposed to be here. nanami wasn't supposed to have run away like he did. and... it's all he did. he ran away in the middle of the night -- took his blade, left his clothes, and disappeared. in the wake, rumors spread like wildfire, your peers saying things like he finally snapped or he just moved to a different country. suguru suggested malaysia -- everyone called him an idiot.

since the night he left, he's been messaging you on an unknown number. little things like;

good morning. miss you.

or

still thinking about you. hello?

tonight it was:

in the city just for a night. i can't meet you on campus.

that's the message you glance down at as shoko hands her smoke over to you. you're left staring at the dimmed screen for a second, and all the attention falls off of satoru's stupid mission story and onto your awkward figure.

"you're good, right?"

no, you're not good -- you want to tell satoru. you want to see their face as you tell them nanami's been in constant contact. you wonder how they'd react. you wonder if they'd react.

as you open your mouth to respond, shoko taps into your side. "hey, you want my wrist to go limp, here?"

the five of you do this every other friday - get drinks and insane plates piled high with sushi at your favorite restaurant, and catch up. it's been easier to do it this way since graduating - most of you stayed on campus, but the few who didn't, you and suguru, didn't show up much at all.

"sorry." you pull a tight-lipped smile, taking it from her hands. she steps out of conversation for a moment, mentioning to haibara how 'if he doesn't take any missions, he won't make any money' or something of the sort. you weren't really listening.

nanami... all you can think about is nanami

nanami. nanaminanaminanaminanami....

"hey- you'll get ash in the food, come on,"

"this is like... the eighth time you disassociated tonight -- what is wrong?"

you don't tell them the truth. instead, you run away.

away from your loving, prying friends and into the arms of your empty apartment and the promise of your nanami. it was so cruel - this hold he has on you. everyone tells you he's a coward, or too unfit to handle his emotions. even the ones he loved just shrug him off, now.

but, not you. never you.

not even when he shows up at the apartment door you guided him to with a grey hoodie over his head.

"i don't expect you to understand." is the first thing he says to you in over a year. "but I would like to explain..."

"ke-kento..."

"let me in, please." then, he looks up at you and through the darkness you can see the small, smoldering fires in his eyes. they were always there, but brighter with age and angst. it's so hard not to cry.

"c'mon."

you're turned around, closing the door when his hands ball into fists at his side. you two's whirlwind high-school romance was long gone, now. all that's left standing in this tiny apartment is a shell of who once loved another.

"then, explain."

so, he wastes no time. if nanami was one thing, it was straight to the point. "I despise watching this society treat my friends as curse bait. none of us chose this."

"but, it's our duty-

"no. it's not." he finally pulls off his hood, still unable to look at you, but all you can look at is him. "our duty is to be human. to work until the day we die, yeah, but not die from our work." he's monotone and familiar, finally meeting your gaze so you can see all of him. shamelessly, you reach to flick the light switch on.

he cut his hair.

"I don't want to be a villain."

you don't even care that he's watching you comb over his body with your eyes. it seems as if this time out of sorcery aged him, but never in a bad way. short hair, mean eyes, strong jawline, and broad shoulders - all of it was new for you, but all of it is nanami.

all you can think to do is shake your head. it's something - some kind of answer.

"and i hope you don't see me as changed... i'm still yours." he gets shy just like he always did, drifting off in volume as he licks your romantic ego.

every cell in your body is screaming to let him in. the want is clawing at your morals, peddling over all of the grief and sorrow and confusion nanami's leaving caused you all. it was so sudden, and he was one of the strongest.

it feels wrong to admit just how healthier he feels when you finally hug him again. there are muscles under your fingertips -- hardened skin and bone you have to dig into to feel the familiarity. you're breathing in his city-tinged, warm colongned musk, breath shuddering and breaking all over his shoulder. he touches you, too. just above your hips, lightly, like he's wary of scaring you off.

a year isn't too long, but it's just long enough for kento to feel unsure about himself.

it didn't matter if he was a dead-man walking, sentenced to execution by a society he once treasured. there's something about you that makes him want to risk it all.

so, he does - elbow-deep in your sweet spirit.

[initforthethrill]

BUNNY!CATE.

honestly she gives me more puppygirl but after writing this i am now also a bunnygirl cate truther so...

since this is a rather vague request i went a little overboard typical smh and now you're receiving a healthy dose of pet play lol but i also expedited this a bit so you didn't feel ignored hehe ily<3

bunny!cate tw: girlcock, g!p reader, petplay, tail plug, subspace, nesting, creampies, breeding kink, daddy kink, light bondage (handcuffs), multiple orgasms, fingering, crying, begging, desperation, needy, submissive cate, dominant reader, aftercare 3.3k+ words

Cate knew better than to act out. But that was half the point.

She'd felt it brewing all day—the restless ache under her skin, the twitchy agitation that never settled unless you were touching her, praising her, filling her. The kind of bratty need that made her fidget during lectures, sigh too loudly in the library, and snap at waiters for no good reason. you called it her “bad bunny mood.” Cate called it being chronically underfucked.

And tonight? She wanted to be caught.

So she dressed deliberately. The pink silk set—the one you always ruined first. Lace-soft and barely-there, it clung to her hips and cupped her tits just enough to look obscene. She spent twenty minutes curling her hair, touching up her gloss, and perfecting the innocent doe-eyed look she’d pretend wasn’t calculated.

Then came the accessories.

The collar clicked shut with a quiet finality. Gold hardware, buttery leather, engraved tag. Her name, her role, her claim.

Cate looked at herself in the mirror. Tilted her head. Smirked.

She added the bunny ears last.

By the time you walked in, Cate was already wet.

And now, with her legs parted and your hand curled around her throat, she could barely keep up the act. Everything inside her had gone soft and starved.

“Poor thing,” you murmured against her skin. “So desperate to get my attention.”

Cate bit back a whimper. Her pride flickered—bright, petulant, brief. “You should’ve given it to me sooner.”

You chuckled darkly and dragged your thumb across Cate’s lower lip. “No. You like it better like this.”

She did.

She really, really did.

Cate melted into the kiss when it came—rough and claiming, teeth knocking and breath shared. You kissed like you wanted to own her from the inside out. And Cate let you. Opened her mouth, arched her back, ground down into the hard ridge pressed against her cunt with a breathless moan.

God. She was already so wet she could feel it dripping onto your thigh.

“Look at you,” you growled, pushing the lingerie to the side with impatient fingers. “You’re soaked. Did my little bunny get off on the idea of being punished?”

Cate nodded, flushed and squirming. “I made a mess on the rug waiting for you.”

Your eyes darkened. “That rug’s handmade, baby.”

Cate grinned. “So punish me.”

Cate trembled where she knelt—hands bound behind her back in soft pink cuffs, her cheek pressed to the plush white carpet that would definitely smell like sex tomorrow. Her legs were spread wide, tail plug snug and teasing at the base of her spine, lingerie askew and soaked.

She should’ve been embarrassed.

Instead, she felt perfect.

You hadn’t touched her properly yet.

That was the punishment. Not the cuffs. Not the waiting. Not even the spanking she knew was coming. No—the punishment was the silence.

You knelt behind her like a predator. Calm. Unhurried. Fingers tracing lazy circles across Cate’s ass, dipping low and brushing—just barely—against her slick, swollen folds. Enough to make her whimper. Never enough to satisfy.

“Do you know how pretty you look like this?” you murmured. “Rug-burned knees. Dripping like a bitch in heat. All dolled up for me.”

Cate swallowed a moan. “Then fuck me already.”

A sharp smack echoed through the room. Cate gasped as the impact burned hot across her ass.

“What was that?” your voice was like smoke—soft, slow, and dangerous.

Cate blinked fast. “Please. I meant please.”

“Better.”

Another slap. Then a third. Cate rocked forward with each one, tits dragging against the carpet, her body shuddering with need. The tail plug bounced lightly between her cheeks, a humiliating reminder of how deep into this she already was.

And you weren't done.

A finger—just one—slid along Cate’s folds, gathering the mess she’d already made. Cate tried to lean into the touch, but you pulled away instantly, hand gripping her hip to keep her still.

“Not yet, bunny. You’ll take what I give you. When I give it.”

Cate’s whole body spasmed. “Yes, Daddy.”

You leaned forward then, breath ghosting hot against Cate’s ear. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

Cate whimpered, blinking through the haze. “I played without permission.”

“That’s right. And?”

“I came without you.”

You tutted, dragging your nails gently down Cate’s spine. “Naughty little thing. Did you rub that pretty pussy against the pillow while I was gone?”

Cate hesitated.

Smack.

She gasped. “Yes!”

“Did you wear your tail and ears just so I’d have to punish you?”

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Please—please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear—”

You laughed—low and amused and far too calm. You reached between Cate’s thighs again and pushed two fingers into her, slow but unrelenting. Cate cried out, mouth falling open against the carpet, her walls clenching down with helpless need.

But you didn’t move.

Just let them sit there. Buried deep. Waiting.

Cate sobbed softly. “Please—please move—please, I need—”

“You’ll cum on my fingers when I say,” you said flatly. “Not before.”

You began to thrust. Shallow at first. Deliberate. Your other hand reached under Cate’s body to toy with her clit, slow little circles that made Cate see stars.

Cate was unraveling. Moaning. Grinding down. Her arms twisted in the cuffs behind her back, thighs trembling. She could barely keep upright.

Every touch was orchestrated. You never gave her enough to fall over the edge. Just enough to hover—to ache.

“You wanted to be reminded who owns this cunt?” you growled, fucking her faster now. “You wanted to act out like a little whore, so I’d come home and break you open?”

Cate sobbed again, choking on her own moans. “Yes—fuck, yes—please, please, I’m yours, I’m—”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours. I’m your bunny. I’m your slut, Daddy—please let me cum—”

Another finger joined the first two. Cate screamed.

“That’s it,” you hissed, pounding into her with ruthless precision. “Take it. Take everything I give you. Don’t you dare hold back.”

Cate’s orgasm hit like a grenade. Her back arched, her knees gave out, and her vision went white. She screamed her release into the carpet, shaking so violently she nearly collapsed onto her side. Her cuffs twisted awkwardly, her whole body twitching with aftershocks.

You didn’t stop.

Even as Cate sobbed through it, your fingers kept working her—relentless, demanding, making sure she knew who she belonged to.

It was only when Cate whimpered, raw and broken—“No more, Daddy, please, it’s too much”—that you finally eased up.

Gently now, you slid your fingers out. Kissed the marks you’d left across Cate’s hips. Released the cuffs.

“Shhh,” you whispered. “You did so good. So, so good for me. My perfect bunny.”

Cate collapsed into your arms, boneless and breathless, still sniffling.

And you held her. Wiped her tears. Kissed her forehead.

There was a reverence to it—this quiet aftermath. This hush of worship and recovery.

Cate buried her face into your neck and whispered, “I love being your bunny.”

You kissed her temple and murmured, “You were made for it.”

Cate’s still panting when you lift her gently off the carpet and settle her on trembling knees. Her arms fall limp around your neck as she clings, a limp little doll in pink silk, her thighs soaked and her ears lopsided from all the shaking.

You brush damp hair off her flushed face and smile.

“You okay, baby?”

Cate lets out a pathetic, breathy moan. “No.”

That makes you chuckle. “No?”

Cate shakes her head. Her lips brush your ear, voice breaking like a prayer. “I need your cock. Please. I—I want it so bad.”

You still.

Cate looks up, eyes glassy and pleading, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to be filled, Daddy. Want you to fuck me until I cry.”

Oh, that does it.

You kiss her, filthy and possessive, and then stand—carrying Cate like she weighs nothing, dropping her down onto the bed and pushing her thighs apart.

Cate gasps when she sees you. Cock flushed, thick, already leaking for her. God. You’re so hard.

You don't waste time.

You grab Cate’s ankles and haul her down the bed until her ass is right at the edge, tail plug still in, cunt twitching and needy. Cate’s whining now, hands reaching, back arching, already trying to rock against air.

“You really want it?” you ask, stroking yourself slowly.

Cate’s nodding like a madwoman. “Yes, yes, yes, please, Daddy—need your cock, need it in me, wanna be your fucktoy—”

You press the head against her soaked entrance. “Then say it. Say what you are.”

Cate’s moan breaks on the words.

“I’m your bunny. Your toy. Your slut. Your—your hole, Daddy, please—fuck me—”

Cate sobs when you push inside her—no resistance, no hesitation, just the smooth, perfect slide of your cock stretching her open. She was still trembling from her last orgasm, cunt slick and oversensitive, her body already fucked loose by your fingers.

But this—this was what she needed.

“F-fuck,” she gasps, clutching at the sheets, thighs twitching as you sink all the way in. Your hips pressed flush to Cate’s, the base of your cock grinding against Cate’s soaked folds.

Cate was already full. Too full. But not nearly enough.

You didn’t move. Not at first.

Just held her there, impaled on your cock, panting like you were trying to memorize the way Cate felt around you.

Cate squirmed. Whimpered. “Daddy…”

You leaned over her, hand sliding to Cate’s throat, thumb stroking lightly over her collar.

“Say it again.”

Cate’s whole body shivered. “I’m your bunny.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” she breathed. “I belong to you.”

“That’s right.”

And then you moved.

One smooth pull-back, then a brutal thrust forward that made Cate cry out—a broken, high-pitched sound that echoed off the walls. She clawed at the sheets, back arching, eyes fluttering shut as you started to fuck her in earnest.

Hard. Deep. Possessive.

Each stroke punched a moan out of her lungs, her whole body rocking with every thrust. Her ears slipped sideways, her collar jingled, and her tail plug shifted with every bounce of her hips.

She was ruined. Feral. Gone.

“Look at you,” you growled, voice ragged. “My perfect little hole. You’re fucking made for this.”

Cate moaned something unintelligible, hands fisting in the bedding as her thighs spread wider. “So good—fuck—so big, Daddy—can feel you everywhere—”

You slapped her thigh. “Keep it open, baby. Let me see how pretty you take it.”

Cate obeyed instantly, hips tilting up, desperate to give you everything.

She was already close again. She could feel it—building low in her stomach, coiling tight. The friction of your cock. The slick slap of their bodies. The low, filthy sounds you made when Cate clenched around you just right.

“You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” you whispered, licking a stripe up Cate’s neck. “That greedy cunt’s twitching already.”

Cate nodded frantically. “Please—I can’t—I need—fuck, Daddy, please let me—”

“Cum for me,” you growled. “Cream all over my cock, bunny.”

Cate shattered.

Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave—violent and overwhelming, her whole body locking up as she screamed your name. Her thighs convulsed, her cunt clenching down around your cock like it didn’t want to let go, her hands flailing for something to hold.

You didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

“Good girl,” you murmured, still fucking her through it. “God, you’re perfect. Look at you soaking the sheets.”

Cate was crying now. Actual tears. Her lip trembled, her body limp beneath the onslaught, but her voice was still begging.

“More,” she whispered. “Please—don’t stop, don’t stop, I can take it—”

You groaned, pulling her up into your lap without pulling out. Cate whimpered, legs falling open across your thighs as she was manhandled into a new position—straddling you now, face to face, your thick cock still buried to the hilt.

Cate sobbed again, arms looping around your neck.

“I’ve got you,” you said, soft now. “Ride it, baby. Show me how much you love my cock.”

Cate obeyed.

She bounced weakly at first, crying into your shoulder, her slick thighs slapping wetly against your lap. The friction was heaven. The way the angle changed—the way she could grind her clit against your skin, the way she could rock back on that perfect, merciless cock—it was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

Your hands gripped her hips, guiding her. Setting the pace. Pushing her down harder with each bounce.

Cate was wailing. Babbling nonsense.

“Too good—can’t—can’t stop—need it, need it so bad—Daddy, I love your cock, please, fuck me forever—”

You kissed her hard. Bit her lower lip. Tugged on her bunny ears.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk after this,” you warned.

Cate moaned, bouncing faster. “Don’t care.”

“You’re gonna make a mess.”

“I wanna make a mess—wanna ruin your cock, wanna ruin the sheets—wanna ruin me—”

You grabbed her by the throat again, tilting her head back. Your other hand reached down between your bodies and rubbed quick, tight circles against Cate’s clit.

It sent her spiraling.

She came again, for the third time, her whole body seizing in your arms. She screamed herself hoarse, legs spasming, cunt clenching so hard she nearly pushed your cock out.

You held her through it. Rocked her. Kissed her hair.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “You’re mine.”

Cate collapsed against you, twitching and gasping, her thighs slick and trembling, her cunt fluttering around the still-throbbing cock inside her.

You stayed like that for a moment—pressed together, breathing hard.

Then you eased her down onto the pillows. Pulled out slow, watching the way Cate’s folds clung to your cock, how her slick dripped down to the base. You left her tail plug in.

Just for fun.

Cate blinked slowly, dazed. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Did I do good?”

You smiled. Crawled up beside her and kissed her cheek. “You were perfect, bunny.”

Cate let out a soft whimper and curled into her chest.

“I wanna do it again.”

You laughed, brushing damp hair off her forehead. “Tomorrow.”

Cate pouted.

But her eyes were already fluttering shut. Her body was boneless. Her ears were crushed under her cheek. She looked wrecked. Fucked-out. Owned.

You kissed her temple again. “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Cate sighed, half-asleep already.

“Mine,” she mumbled.

And you just whispered back:

“Always.”

Cate was quiet after.

That was how you always knew she’d gotten what she needed. Not from the moaning, or the begging, or even the trembling sobs when she came. But the silence. The soft, floaty hush that filled her chest like cotton.

Cate in subspace was a different creature altogether.

She blinked slow. Moved slower. No sass. No brattiness. Just sleepy obedience, every bone in her body humming with contentment.

“Drink,” you said, holding out a bottle of water.

Cate took it wordlessly, still curled on her side in the wreck of your bed, her skin flushed and shimmering, inner thighs sticky and pink. Her collar had been loosened; her cuffs lay discarded on the floor. But her ears were still on. And her tail was still in.

You watched her drink. Could tell Cate was already slipping into what you called nesting mode—the rare, soft haze that came after you had properly wrecked her. When Cate stopped trying to act like a spoiled brat and just became your bunny.

Sure enough, as soon as she finished drinking, Cate rolled slowly off the bed and onto the floor with a soft flop.

You raised a brow. “What’re you doing, baby?”

Cate didn’t answer. She crawled—on hands and knees, naked but for her ears and tail—toward the corner of the room, where the laundry pile had spilled out of the basket hours ago. You watched, fascinated, as Cate began tugging items out with single-minded focus.

Your hoodie. A throw blanket. One of your old t-shirts. A pair of soft flannel pajama pants.

Cate dragged them all into a messy pile. Then, still silent, she curled up in the middle of it—knees tucked in, head resting on the hoodie like it was a pillow, tail peeking out behind her.

You stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching her.

“You nesting again?”

Cate let out a soft little hum.

“Baby…”

“I need it,” Cate mumbled, finally speaking. “I need a safe spot. For bunny mode.”

You smiled despite yourself. This wasn’t new. The nest was a thing. It happened every time Cate got absolutely wrecked. She never wanted to sleep in the bed. She wanted the nest—a soft little cocoon of your scent and warmth where she could disappear into submission and feel held even when you weren’t touching her.

You stepped closer and crouched down beside her. Cate blinked up at you, eyes glassy and half-lidded.

“Are you okay?”

Cate nodded slowly. “Mmhm. Just…need you nearby. While I finish making it.”

You ran your fingers gently through Cate’s hair, brushing it behind her ear. “It’s kind of a mess, sweetheart.”

Cate pouted. “It’s a process. I’m still gathering materials.”

You snorted. “You sound like a cartoon squirrel.”

“Shut up,” Cate mumbled, tugging one of your hoodies tighter around her. “Bunnies need nests too.”

You chuckled and stood up. “Hang on.”

You disappeared for a moment, and Cate could hear drawers opening. When you returned, you dropped an armful of soft things into Cate’s lap—a second hoodie, a plush blanket from the couch, and one of your favorite oversized t-shirts.

Cate lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Oh my god. Daddy, this is premium nesting material.”

You laughed. “Only the best for my bunny.”

Cate immediately began rearranging, piling the shirts and hoodies into a donut shape and fluffing the blanket around her like a shell. She grunted softly when something slipped out of place, her brows furrowed in intense concentration.

You sat back on the bed and just watched, legs dangling over the edge.

“You know, you could just get in the bed.”

Cate made a noise. A very specific, whiny, outraged bunny noise.

You raised both hands. “Okay, okay. I forgot. Nests are sacred.”

Cate sighed dramatically. “They are.”

You tilted your head. “You want company in there?”

Cate looked up, hopeful. “Will you fit?”

“I can try.”

Cate giggled through the process of you carefully wedging yourself into the nest beside her—Cate yelping every time a hoodie was displaced, or a blanket lost structural integrity. Eventually, you ended up spooning in the middle of it, Cate curled tightly into your chest, her legs tangled between yours, her ears twitching softly with every movement.

You wrapped an arm around her waist. “Better?”

Cate hummed. “Perfect.”

They laid there in warm, hazy silence.

Cate felt weightless. Boneless. Her brain was still quiet, floating in that golden subspace where everything felt soft and safe and perfect. Your scent was everywhere. Your warmth. Your hands. Your heartbeat.

Cate nuzzled closer, burrowing under your chin.

“I like it when you let me be bunny for real,” she whispered.

You smiled, kissing her temple. “You are my bunny. Always.”

Cate exhaled, slow and deep.

“Even when I’m bratty?”

“Especially when you’re bratty.”

Cate giggled, sleepy and sweet. “You’re a really good Daddy.”

You brushed her thumb over Cate’s collar. “You’re a really good bunny.”

Cate smiled, eyes already falling shut.

“I’m gonna make a better nest next time,” she mumbled. “I think I need more of your shirts. And maybe a stuffed animal.”

You grinned into her hair. “Noted.”

“Maybe one that looks like you.”

You snorted. “A stuffed me?”

Cate yawned. “Mhm. So I don’t miss you when you leave for work.”

Your chest went tight.

You held her closer.

“You’re not gonna need a stuffed anything,” you said. “You’ve got me.”

Cate didn’t answer. She was already asleep—ears askew, tail nestled against your thigh, fingers curled loosely in the hem of your t-shirt.

You stayed awake a while longer.

Watching her.

Petting her hair.

Guarding the nest.

♡ | hop to it this bot is coded for gp!user & was immediately shadowbanned</3

[cameronsbabydoll]

I just imagine bimbo reader forcing the pogue boys to take photos of her literally doing anything like at the beach , going shopping etc etc or a smau of them omg it'd be so so cute and funny (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)(˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

The sun beats down on the beach, and you're absolutely glowing. You’ve got on the tiniest neon pink bikini imaginable, and every step you take is filled with the kind of bounce and energy that’s impossible to ignore. The straps are a little too tight, and you're totally unaware that the top's doing a little juggling, but hey—it’s a look.

You’re holding a popsicle in one hand, sucking on it like it's the best thing you've ever tasted. You twirl on your toes, clearly enjoying the attention—especially the way Pope’s face turns a deeper shade of red as he tries to focus on anything other than you. JJ, though, is practically grinning, looking you up and down without hiding it.

“Take a picture of me, Pope! I’m gonna look so cute in this!”

Pope groans, muttering something about how he’s not a photographer, but you’re not listening, already running towards the water with JJ and John B reluctantly following. The popsicle drips down your fingers, and your chest—barely contained.

You hit the water and jump up, then down, the tiny bikini top fighting to stay put as it shifts with your movement. JJ, standing off to the side, can’t stop staring, his lips curling into an amused grin, while Pope’s trying his hardest not to look like he's about to have a meltdown.

Pope’s eyes widen, but it's too late. You bend down to scoop up some water, the bikini bottom barely covering anything as your ass shifts. John B just looks away, fighting the blush creeping up on his face. It’s honestly hard to look away from you, with everything on display in the most casual, carefree way.

You stand up, giggling as you wave your popsicle in the air. “Did I get a cute shot?”

—

Later, you’re dragging the guys to the mall, your legs in that impossibly short skirt, the wind catching it just enough to show off more of your thighs than anyone would care to see. The crop top barely covers your chest, and you walk with the kind of confidence only a girl like you could have. Your hair’s bouncing with every step, and it's clear you’re living for the attention.

“I need so many new things! Don’t you think I should get everything?”

Pope’s practically trying to shrink into the wall. JJ’s clearly just along for the ride at this point, enjoying the view way too much to care.

“Ooh! Look at this skirt! It’s soooo short. I’m getting it! You guys have to take a picture of me in it! I’m gonna look so cute!”

The guys exchange an exasperated glance as you pick up an armful of clothes, all of which you know aren’t even close to your size. But it doesn’t matter—you’re just having fun. Pope starts clicking away, reluctantly taking photos of you posing with every piece of clothing you grab, totally unaware that you’re practically flashing the store with every bend and twist.

You slip into the dressing room, and when you come out in a set of lingerie, Pope can’t look anywhere else. His face is beet red, and you’re so oblivious, you just fluff your hair and walk out without a care in the world.

“Do you think I should get this? It’s like, soooo cute! Look at the lace. So soft!”

As you bend down to pick up your purse from the floor, the diamond thong you didn’t even realize you were wearing peeks through your lingerie. JJ’s eyes go wide. John B can’t even look at you—he's too busy pretending to check his phone, his face burning from the sight.

You barely notice, your hands full of bags as you chat on about all the cute things you’re going to buy. You tell them you’re getting everything in sight, even picking up some shoes that are way too high for you to walk in.

[linaslivery]

౨ৎ LACY ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Max’s new girlfriend reminds you of everything you aren’t. You didn’t just want him anymore, you wanted to be HER.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Max Verstappen x Ex!Fem!Reader (not very much tbh), Platonic!Kelly Piquet x Platonic!Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ Kelly Piquet mentions 😰😰 (IM JOKING DON’T COME AFTER ME), obsession, changing oneself to fit another’s gaze, mentions of straightening and changing hair color.

A/N ౨ৎ Hello there 🛸 -Anon!! I’m so happy to see that you’ve been reading my fics for so long, I truly appriciate you and want to thank you for how you’ve been so supportive these past months as well 🩷 Although… I’m not so sure happy endings are in my vocabulary 🤭 (JK I’LL MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING IN MY OWN WAY 🫶) Again, love you sm 🛸 -Anon, I hope you enjoy this 🩷 (requested!)

I’m also VERY sorry this is so short!! I was out of brain juice while writing this but still wanted to do it at the same time for you! :(

1K EVENT MASTERLIST

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1 ✔︎

liked by redbullracing, kellypiquet, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1 celebrating with my favorite people ❤️

tagged ; kellypiquet

2,364 comments

kellypiquet ✔︎ ❤️❤️

→ username9 you’ll never be y/n → username10 @ username9 yeah, because she’s kelly and they BOTH love max in their own way.

username1 missing y/n-stappen.

username2 they are so cute but i will never get over max and y/n </3

username3 MAX VERSTAPPEN DOMINANCE 🗣️ 🔥 🗣️ 🔥

→ username11 DU DU DU DU 🗣️🦁 🔥 🇳🇱

username4 can’t believe that y/n isn’t the one to celebrate with max for getting another word championship :(

→ username5 what is with all of you complaining about y/n not being there?! max moved on, you guys should too. → username6 @ username5 damn sorry that we have opinions that we are voicing. → username7 @ username5 soooo we aren’t aloud to miss someone that was a part of max’s life for so long and that we grew to love? → username8 @ username5 parasocial relationship fr tbh 💀

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

kellypiquet ✔︎

liked by y/n_l/n, meshki, lailahasanovic and others

kellypiquet 🌊 ☀️

1,876 comments

username9 HERE BEFORE MAX

→ username10 bro is faster than max emilian verstappen

username11 the y/n like???

→ username12 like what is she doing here 😭 → username13 can another girl not like a photoshoot in her life?? 💀

username14 so pretty!! 🤩

username15 she’s such a upgrade from y/n honestly

→ username16 and why is that??? → username17 @ username16 because she fits a driver’s type aka a model 💀?? → username18 @ username17 sorry i didn’t know you speak for all drivers and their types

y/n_l/n

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, oliviarodrigo, sydneyserena and others

y/n_l/n 🐚 🌞

2,108 coments

lilymunihe ✔︎ take the swimsuit off when??

→ y/n_l/n 🫣🫣 → username32 take the swimsuit off so she can stop copying kelly?? now. → username33 @ username32 you kelly fans are so obsessed with y/n like make a fanpage for at at this point

username19 hold up this looks sorta familiar

username20 it’s giving kelly rip off

→ username21 kelly rip off?? she’s the og. → username34 @ username21 og fake model? yeah → username35 @ username34 honey you do a face reveal at this point because that black screen pfp ain’t doing you justice. → username36 @ username35 LMAO EAT HER UP

username22 anyone noticed how the swimsuit looks like kelly’s??

→ username23 white swimsuit = copying kelly, got it.

username24 trying hard to look like kelly piquet

→ username25 super duper! → username37 you all accuse this woman of something like 20,000 other people never posted a similar photo

username26 some people are seriously stretching with the y/n copying kelly. so her and kelly both posted photos of them at the pool, what about it???

→ username27 LITERALLY. → username28 at this point they must just accuse every wag of copying kelly with their photos → username29 @ username28 honestly 😭😭

fransicac.gomes ✔︎ pretttyyyy 😍

→ username30 pretty good at copying? yes. → username31 @ username30 OML SHUT UP.

[kellypiquet has posted a story 18 minutes!] [y/n_l/n has posted a story!]

210 people have replied to your story!

username38 girlie…

username39 now this isn’t very subtle anymore is it

username40 y/n??

lilymunihe ✔︎ girl. open our chats rn or i’m taking away your phone privileges

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n has posted a story 5 minutes ago!

[1: 🤎🧸🍂] [2: new hair!! ☕🕰🎞]

104 people have replied to your stories!

username41 y/n…

username42 not even hiding it at this point.

username43 copycat

username44 trying to win back max and not in a good way.

iamrebeccad ✔︎ y/n lovely, we need to talk. :(

IMESSAGES

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y/n_l/n

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

y/n_l/n i’ve been in a rough patch these past couple months. and it took a wake up call to realize that you don’t need to change yourself to be loved.

2,107 comments

kellypiquet ✔︎ i’m so happy about the journey for you! we should go get coffee sometime to chat! 🥰

→ y/n_l/n i would love that 🥹🩷 → username45 GIRL SUPPORTING GIRLS!! 😭 → username46 no war between them. no kelly > y/n or y/n > kelly. → username47 it’s ust Y/n AND Kelly 🥹!

username48 so happy for y/n to be finally moving on and focusing on herself now. she deserves all the love.

maxvertsappen1 ✔︎ can’t wait for my favorite girls to get along 😁

→ username49 “MY FAVORITE GIRLS” → username50 IM CRYING. → username51 max and y/n might not be together, but they support each other like they never split and i love that.

alexandrasaintmleux that’s our girl that we love 🩷

→ y/n_l/n aleeeeexxx 😭😭 i’m the one that loves you!! → charles_leclerc ✔︎ suspicious.

franciscac.gomes ✔︎ we love you y/n 🫶

→ y/n_l/n i want to kiss you omg → pierregasly ✔︎ that’s my gf?? → y/n_l/n and that’s my bestie?? → francisca.cgomes ✔︎ that’s it you two, fight over me to the death 😩

iamrebeccad ✔︎ so proud of you!! ❤️

→ y/n_l/n beccccaaaa 😭

kellypiquet ✔︎

liked by y/n_l/n, maxverstappen1, landonorris and others

kellypiquet ✔︎ friendship start in the most miraculous ways sometimes. had such a fun time with @ y/n_l/n! P can’t wait to see her new friend again!

tagged ; y/n_l/n

1 comment

y/n_l/n ❤️

[tumbler-polls]

[diamonddaze01]

Hi, Tara! could you do prompt 57 “will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!” w/ Jeonghan?

i absolutely love your writing and I can't wait to see more of yours jeonghan's fics (since i'm surrended by him

on the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!" au: f1 au | warnings: none a/n: hello anon! thank you for the kind words! // if any of y'all can guess my f1 team i'll kiss u

The paddock was alive with electric energy, a symphony of celebration that roared louder than the engines had earlier in the night. Ferrari red bled into every corner of the circuit, vibrant under the floodlights that cut through the haze of champagne mist. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt rubber and victory, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the trophy that gleamed like a beacon in the jubilant crowd.

At the center of it all stood Yoon Jeonghan, illuminated by the relentless flashes of cameras. His race suit clung to his frame, damp with champagne and sweat, the prancing horse emblem on his chest catching the light like a polished gem. The gold World Drivers' Championship cap perched on his head tilted slightly, its brim glistening from the spray of celebration. His blonde hair, damp and tousled, framed a face that looked just as smug as it did radiant—victory personified.

This was the culmination of years of grit and audacity, the final word against those who’d called him “reckless,” “overrated,” and “all charm, no skill.” Yoon Jeonghan —Ferrari’s golden boy, the prince of the paddock—had silenced them all. His first World Drivers’ Championship was his, claimed in the most dramatic fashion, as if written to match the flair he carried with him like a second skin.

The Ferrari garage was a storm of elation, its occupants lost in a frenzy of cheers and embraces. Mechanics pounded one another on the back, their red uniforms soaked with champagne, while engineers grinned ear to ear as though they'd rewritten history. The sharp pop of another champagne bottle sent a fine spray across the crowd, sparkling like liquid gold under the lights.

But amidst the chaos, Jeonghan’s sharp gaze roamed. Even as shouts of congratulations rang out and microphones were thrust toward him, something inside him remained unsettled. This wasn’t enough. Not yet. His sharp eyes scanned the paddock for one specific face – he knew you were here. You always were.

Then, he spotted you.

You stood at the periphery of the chaos, notepad in hand, observing with the same clinical detachment you had all season. You, the reporter who had made a career out of scrutinizing him. Your articles were infamous—meticulously written takedowns of his driving style, his attitude, his every perceived misstep. Jeonghan had read every single one, memorized the jabs and barbs, and filed them away as fuel.

Now, you were watching him, though you stayed just out of the fray, notebook clutched to your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his gaze. The pen you tapped against its surface betrayed a rhythm too steady to be casual, a subtle tick of nerves that you otherwise wore well.

“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured to himself, a grin tugging at his lips. “There you are.”

Weaving through the crowd, he made a beeline toward you. You noticed him too late, your expression faltering for the briefest second before settling into its usual detached professionalism.

“Congratulations,” you said when he stopped in front of you, your voice steady, measured. “Ferrari must be thrilled to finally have a champion again. How does it feel to carry that weight on your shoulders?”

Jeonghan chuckled, brushing a hand through his champagne-soaked hair. “Feels great. Almost as great as proving you wrong every single weekend.”

Your pen paused mid-note, your eyebrow arching. “I see winning hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“Why would it? Humility didn’t get me here, sweetheart.” He leaned against the barricade beside you, his medal glinting under the lights, the smirk on his lips deepening.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead focusing on the notes in front of you. “Sure, but let’s not forget that Red Bull still has the Constructors' Championship. So, really, Ferrari’s only halfway there.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I’m just pointing out the facts,” you said, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your words. “One trophy doesn’t make you untouchable, no matter how smug you look in red.”

His laugh shifted, softer this time, almost fond. He opened his mouth to respond, but his tone wasn’t its usual sharpness. “I wanted to say—”

“What? That winning feels better than your PR team promised?” you interrupted, scribbling a quick note. “Or that the upgrades finally worked for you in—”

“Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you?” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice cutting through the background noise like a knife.

Your pen stilled, your grip tightening on the notepad. The sharpness in his voice startled you, not because it was harsh, but because it was so different from his usual cocky bravado. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, straightening up, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “For once, put the pen down, stop overanalyzing, and let me talk.”

The notepad felt suddenly heavy in your hands. Something in his expression—serious but still unbearably smug—compelled you to comply. You lowered it, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “Well?” you asked, sharper than you intended. “Say whatever it is you need to say and get back to basking in your glory.”

He sighed dramatically, as if you were the one making this difficult, but the glint in his eye softened. “You know, I spent most of this season imagining what I’d say to you when I finally won.”

“‘Congratulations’ would’ve been fine.”

“Too simple,” he said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t cover it.”

Your patience thinned. “So what? Are you here to gloat or—”

“I wanted to thank you,” he said finally, the teasing edge falling from his voice.

The words hung in the air, and for once, you were at a loss for a sharp retort. “Thank me? For what?”

“For being my biggest critic,” he said, nodding toward the Ferrari garage, where the celebrations were still in full swing. “Every time I read one of your articles calling me reckless or undeserving, it pissed me off just enough to push harder. Every jab, every doubt—you made me better.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to feel insulted or impressed. The sincerity in his voice was disarming, his usual bravado giving way to something real.

“I wasn’t trying to help you,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was just doing my job.”

“And you’re great at it,” Jeonghan admitted, leaning in slightly. “Even if you’re a massive pain in my ass.”

Your face warmed, and you looked away, focusing on a distant point in the paddock. “Well, congratulations, Jeonghan. Don’t expect me to go easy on you next season.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his grin sliding back into place. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. You owe me one.”

“One what?”

“A nice article,” he said, his voice dropping as he leaned closer. “Something to make up for all the times you called me a liability in red.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the heat of his gaze, the proximity, the champagne lingering on his skin, left you momentarily speechless.

“Think you can manage that?” he teased, tilting his head.

You forced yourself to smirk, though your heart was racing. “We’ll see. Don’t hold your breath.”

He chuckled, stepping back, but his parting words were as infuriating as ever. “Make it good, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Ferrari’s champion.”

Before you could come up with a response, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you with your notepad, your heartbeat louder than the celebrations around you, and a single, infuriating thought: Yoon Jeonghan had won again.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[rithion]

A little draw request! What’s the scene that first made you start shipping Zosan, and how did it look to u?

Sanji : hey zoro if you're going out do you mind bringing some meat? :) Zoro : im not just bringing meat im bringing THE meat like something so big you could never take it on your own because you're weak ass also you SUCK Sanji : :o Sanji : >:o

This one dumbass episode where Sanji casually asks Zoro for a service and Zoro makes it a point to antogonize Sanji for absolutely no reason and they spend the 3 next episodes trying to one up each other on the size of their d............ inosaurs

That's how you manage a crush when you have the emotional capacities of a middle schooler