#NOT because i didn’t know what to write 😳

[zepskies]

Hahaaa you already know where we're going! Angst City, baby! 😆❤️‍🩹

Omg, sorry, but I have to share this geeky tidbit with you. 😂 I wanted to use the last two colors in the Downgrade palette as a "continuation" of the story in this one, and they just so happened to perfectly match up with the Midnights album colors! The blue shades also linked up with the blue color scheme & dividers I created for the Mark masterlist. So it all really came together in the aesthetics. 😂💜💙

And of course I had so much angsty fun trying to sprinkle bits of the song into this story. Literally it couldn't have matched Mark better 🥲

And like I told you in dms, I absolutely love that I infected you with the “drabble sickness” with this prompt. So fitting to ignore a word count when writing a fic for me, honestly 😂🩵

lmfaoo you really did!! And you know me, my hand "slips" for anything, even my own rules, apparently. 😂 I considered breaking this up into 2 parts, but I knew what you would've said! 😉

Blake seems like a Ken lol (nice touch 👌)

omfg the way I forgot about the "Kens" line in the song! 😂🐴

I mean. *ahem* yeah. Totally, intentional. 😎 (😂💓)

Oh boy, dude’s so much out of her league it’s almost painful 🤣 (And I feel her pain – LA seems like the worst place to meet “normal” people in a club lol)

He really has no idea what he's trying to mess with loll. Oh God, I can only imagine what trying to meet someone organically would be like in LA lmaoo

God, I love her sass so much! She clearly stopped giving a fuck (and who can blame her, honestly lmao)

YUPP. And this is why Mark loves her! lmfaoo (she's droppin bars like Eminem for real 🤣)

Love how this bit parallels the song as well as everybody grows tired of hanging out with the “sad friend.” It’s that whole friends being there for you in the beginning of a break up, but after some time, everyone starts expecting you to be over it and move on, and they get annoyed with you if you haven’t 🥲

That was such a cold but true part of the song too. 😭 In my head, reader isn't used to not being in control of herself either, so this is doubly hard for her. She definitely needs better friends at this point though loll. Sarah's the only somewhat real one in this group 😅

I’m sorry, but pictures??? She actually took fucking pictures and showed them to her sister?!?! God, that bitch is evil 😳 This is a new level of fucked up and sick… I truly wonder what happened that night. We left off the last part with Rachel kind of aiming to take advantage of Mark’s state of mind. I feel his need to explain the situation so deeply and I hope he gets a chance 💔

Oooh, trust, we'll get there. And yes, Rachel is every bit the selfish vindictive bitch you think she is 😭

Love the little shoutouts to the lyrics here (“love is a lie” & “Freedom felt like summer then on the coast. Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings”) – nicely done, friend 👏

Aw thank you so much! The "summer" part in Downgrade I felt was a perfect link to this moment 💙

God, honestly, such a bad moment to witness and catch him. Like she’s been suffering for months after thinking he cheated on her with her sister before the wedding, and he’s happy and handsome like nothing happened and this whole thing didn’t affect him at all, while she’s absolutely miserable. Seriously, poor, poor reader 😭💔

The worst, literally. I feel like I should cover some of Mark's side of things in the next part of this because we all can see how well he does at hiding the deep shit. He paves it over with humor and "gotta get the job done," whereas reader obviously isn't holding it together as well. 💔💔

Nice how you wove in the new haircut too! Great little Easter egg hehe 😏

Hehe thank you!! Tbh I wish they wouldn't have cut his hair after he left Palmdale, but I get why they did. Can't have him with "pullable hair" 😝

Maybe I just miss Russell lol

Bonus points for the Casablanca reference. You know me well, friend 💜

Aw I thought you'd appreciate that! 😘 I love Casablanca too! Such bittersweet goodness

Ouch! As much as I ship Oliveras and Meachum on the show, this one hurt lol

Honestly it hurt me too. 😅 As much as I love them bonding in canon, having to write it from reader's pov here was hardddd 💙

Well, I should hope so! God, is it weird I want him to be absolutely miserable? I mean, yes, technically, he already has cancer and that should be punishment enough, but I want him drunk and puking in the street too lmao

Girl I don't blame you for that one bit loll. At this point we still think Mark did her hella dirty, so you kinda wish she would've taken that golf club to his car like Dean wrecked Baby in S2. 🤣

(God, look at that baby face Dean 🥰)

Loved how you’re bringing us home here with the end of the song and make all these little references again and her memories of him. So perfect, seriously!!! 😍

That part of the song was so gutting when I imagined it. Such a level of loss and desperation, then getting smacked with reality. I had to try and make that come across here 💔

Worst question he could’ve asked, honestly. No one wants to be the miserable one after a break up. You always want to be the one who’s doing well. She doesn’t even get that. Poor girl 😅 While I (playfully) hated how smug and judgmental Mark was during that moment in the morning, I loved the whole cigarette bit. I knew it’d backfire as soon as she lit it 🤣 (and it showed that they’re still bantering like the couple they used to be 🥹)

Ughhh right? You kinda wanna throttle him, not in the fun way lol. Reader def has that self-awareness that she's the "gremlin" while he's looking all coiffed and put together and smelling good. 🥲

Hahaaa the cigarette bit was one of my favorite parts tbh, for that exact reason. 🤣 You can also see that he still loves her and doesn't like to see her like this, knowing full well it's his fault.

💯 I believe that’s what happened! And seriously, screw that fucking sister!! What an absolute mountain of dog shit… Seriously, how messed up do you have to be to do this to your own sister and hate her that much?? Dude, my throat closed so tightly during that entire flashback. I felt absolute disgust with every new paragraph that showcased her behavior and the reasons for it (kudos to your excellent writing here for making me feel this way lol). But what a trash bag of a human being 🤬 This ain’t “Rachel Getting Married,” you manipulative psycho bitch!!!! I honestly hope she never talks a single word with her sister again. Their father would probably be so sad and disappointed, too 😔

Sister Rachel is literally the wooooorst! Selfish, immature, entitled, resentful and insanely jealous, sprinkled with a bit of psycho for good measure 😅 Their parents clearly didn't try hard enough with this one. I want to kind of get into that more in a future part, where reader and Rachel get to have their confrontation 🫢

I will absolutely fucking murder her!!! God, please give me a big blowout with Rachel in Part 3! I need to see that girl get punished for what she did. Like that whole thing isn’t just psychotic and completely immoral, but borders on illegal, honestly. Again, gender reversed roles and Mark would probably find himself in a courtroom after something like this 🙈

Yesssss I was literally brainstorming the future blowout last night. 🤣🤣 Rach needs to eat dog shit for sure. 😝

OH yeah, that's an excellent point that if the situation was reversed, Mark could've had the cuffs slapped on him. She not only tried to take advantage of him while he was drunk, but technically forced a kiss and a lot of unwanted touching on him too 😡

(She really does need to be committed lmfao)

I’m so glad the truth is out, though, and reader even believed him. I do hope they find their way back ❤️‍🩹 And I’m honestly curious how you approach the whole cancer storyline in the next part. I seriously wonder how or if they resolve it on the show when they go for more seasons, or if that will stay a part of our job as fanfic writers lol. But I’m not opposed to finding some miracle cure and keeping him around longer lmao 😅🩵

He finally got through to her! 🥹💓

This is basically going to be a series of connected one-shots (called 'Til When Do Us Part) because I have ideas to drop the reader into bits of future episodes. With her being Valwell's assistant, I thought it could be fun conflict while Mark tries to keep her from what he's doing and dealing with on the taskforce. And now, she's the only one who knows his secret. 😬

I was a big fan of Chicago Fire, so especially if they get renewed for S2, I have a feeling Derek Haas is going to finesse something for Mark at the last minute (like maybe the doctor got it wrong, or Mark's going to try surgery and see what happens). But even if not, we can certainly fanfic the shit out of that ourselves 🤣🤣

The last line did things to me 😭 Amazing fucking job, friend!!! Again, you combined the lyrics and the essence of the song so well with this story! Absolutely loved what you did with it!! Thank you so much for writing this for me and indulging not only my new Mark obsession but also my Swiftie love 💜💙💜💙💜💙

I wanted to get to that ending so badly!! loll I had it in my head from the beginning, just needed to figure out how they got there. 🤪

You're so welcome, friend. Honestly, thank you so much!! 🥹 I haven't felt this good about a story in a long time tbh, and you gave me the perfect inspo. 💜💙💜💙💜💙 Feel free to send me another request if you want!

CATASTROPHIC BLUES

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: Nine months isn’t as long as it sounds. When you run into your ex-fiancé at a bar, he finds out what you've become. You find out the truth.

AN: Okay, so this was only supposed to be a 1K drabble sequel to DOWNGRADE for my lovely friend, @waynes-multiverse, but of course it snowballed on me lol. (And there’s a little more to come!) This is set during early season 1, let’s say between 1x02 and 1x03.

Song Inspo: “Hits Different” by Taylor Swift (YT)

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, drunkenness, skeevy men, Mark doing his best with an angry, hungover reader (bit of grumpy x sunshine), talk of cheating, what really happened, and other truths revealed…

Nine months. It should’ve meant something.

You should be able to go out with your friends to the club. You should be able to feel confident in one of your favorite dresses and the tallest pair of heels you could almost walk in.

You should be able to let loose on the dance floor, letting the closest attractive guy grind on your ass.

He later offered to get you a drink, his hot breath in your ear. An uncomfortable chill ran down your spine. But you know what? Fuck it.

You went back with him to the bar, taking the chance to rest your achy feet. He tried to make small talk with you, despite you being stiff and awkward now that you couldn’t distract yourself with the vibes of the music running through your body. Now the thump thump thump of the bass was too much, too distracting for a normal conversation.

Blake was an oxymoron—he dressed like a wealthy hipster and talked like a frat bro. He had the skinny jeans and a silky patterned shirt, a thin gold chain around his neck, an obnoxious gold pinky ring, and a trendy cropped haircut. You regretted letting him buy you a drink, but then again, you never wasted good vodka.

You also started to get suspicious when one of your friends “casually” came up on his other side.

“Ask her about her job,” Sarah whispered. You just barely caught it.

“Oh, yeah. So, uh, what do you do?” Blake asked you. You were pretty sure he was more interested in your cleavage than your job.

“I’m an assistant to the Head District Attorney of California,” you said blandly.

The guy blinked. “…Oh. Cool.”

“And what do you do, Blake?”

“Well, my dad owns an advertisement company, so I do some stuff for him every now and then. But mostly I’m a competitive gamer. Like, uh, League of Legends, Counter Strike, Mortal Kombat. What about you? You a gamer?”

Blinking slow, then sighing, you leaned over and locked eyes with Sarah, one of your best friends and a well-known esthetician in L.A.

“Where’d you find the trust fund baby?” you asked. “He one of your clients? Let me guess. He likes his asshole bleached the same shade as his hair.”

Sarah bit her lip in embarrassment. Blake coughed and spluttered into his scotch. You didn’t stick around for the predictable denial and slid off the bar stool. You gave him $15 for your drink, downed the rest of it in one long gulp, and savored the rush of it tingling through your head on your way out of the club.

“Wait!” Sarah called after you. Your other two friends just rolled their eyes and stayed behind to keep drinking and dancing. They were used to your antics by now, just like you were used to theirs. They'd been trying to set you up on dates for a couple of months now. This one was the sneakiest by far.

Sarah, for her part, never let you walk out alone.

“Next time you try to set me up with someone, can you please just tell me,” you said tiredly, “instead of pretending you want to hang out with me?”

Sarah deflated. “Look, we’re just trying to help.”

“I know,” you said, holding yourself against the chill in the air. “I know, okay? I know you guys want me to move on, because I’m a fucking bummer. I know I’m…I’m not handling all this as well as I should be. And I know they still talk to Rachel.”

Tears stung in your eyes, but you sucked in a subtle breath. Sarah’s blue eyes were sad and glassy with guilt, even if it was just by association.

“Go back inside,” you said eventually. “I’ll just take an Uber home.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you ended up at a bar down the street. You barely ever went clubbing anymore, but you hadn’t stepped foot into a real bar in nine months.

“Come on, sweetheart. You really want to do this here?”

“You’re one to fucking talk! But you know what? Far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to say. I just…I don’t know how you could do this to me.”

“Please,” he said. The green of his eyes were desperate. It was the first time you ever heard him beg. “Just let me explain.”

You wouldn’t let him touch you, let alone try to hold you. The thought alone made you sick.

“I saw you, Mark. I saw the goddamn pictures. And my sister told me all about how your last night of ‘freedom’ went. But you know what? You’re fucking free.”

You put the ring in the palm of his hand. He stared down at it, jaw clenched. Meanwhile, hot tears streamed down your face.

You walked away first—out of the seaside bar in beautiful Venice, California, with every piece of your heart bleeding out into the street.

Another vodka cranberry at the end of the bar turned into shots you couldn’t name or count. You rebuffed men who tried to talk to you. You ignored the voice in your head that sounded a lot like your dad.

Sweet girl, what the hell’re you doin’?

You stopped trying to answer that question a long time ago. Just like your friends had stopped trying to get you out of the house after work. No more wine tastings or Sunday brunches. No more weekends at the beach. The coarse grains of sun-bleached sand would only remind you of Santa Cruz—a sweltering summer, a perfect day, now fractured and wrong in your mind’s eye.

A fucking lie.

Another empty glass hitting the bar counter drowned out the salty crash of ocean waves, but you finally had to stop when your stomach churned with alcoholic slosh. Your brain reeled when you tried to blink. Your eyes felt dry, irritated, and glassy at the same time.

You got up from your seat and used the wall like an anchor on your way to the bathroom. You checked yourself in the mirror there. Your black dress, your hair, and your makeup were still intact, so you supposed you still looked good, if absent in the eyes. Again, you blinked too hard. Fuck.

On your way back out, new noise was filling the bar. A whole group of four or five people came in and grabbed seats at the bar, laughing, ordering drinks, giving each other shit. They sounded like cops. You knew, because you’d grown up around them your entire life.

“All right, Oliveras. What’re you drinking?”

You stopped short at the voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey. In fact, you needed the back of an empty chair to hold you steady.

“What, you're buying?” she shot back.

Amber. You recognized her profile and the litheness of her frame. You two were old friends, since you roomed together back in college. You hadn’t heard from her in months though. She had called to give her condolences when your almost-marriage fell apart.

And now, your ex-fiancé had an arm draped casually behind her chair. His smile was effortless, charming, the crows’ feet around his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Well, within reason,” he replied, inclining his head. “I think I’m in the mood for some good fuckin’ whiskey—”

You stumbled in your stupid heels. You nearly took a whole table with you, but two chairs broke your fall. Almost all the cops in the group looked your way, their heads swiveling with a trained response to sudden sounds. Your name fell from Amber’s lips, a small, shocked breath.

Mark’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening when you looked up at him on reflex. You were forced to take him in, his green eyes, the new haircut, the well-trimmed beard, the jeans and dark blue jacket. He had no fucking business looking that good.

But you were like two shocked deers not expecting to meet in a forest—neither one willing to move or speak, or even blink…

Until you stumbled again. Your weight on the unstable chair began to give way.

“Shit.”

He and Amber both jolted to help you. Mark’s hand reached for you first, but you firmly ignored it and somehow straightened onto your shaky feet. You smoothed down the dress and fixed the little straps the best you could, even though one was hanging down your shoulder.

Your arm got tangled in the thin chain of your purse, but you slung that over your other shoulder with all the grace of a toddler. Then you affected a “polite” smile that just came off looking like a grimace.

“Uh, hey. Of all the gin joints in the world and stuff, right?” You made sure to enunciate, hoping your hand wave was casual and not insane. “I’ve gotta go.”

You pointed toward the door before you made it your mission to actually get there. Your heart pounded loud in your ears. The rush of cool and quieter air was a balm to your frayed mind, but it wasn’t enough.

The way he looked at her…

The turning of your stomach became a violent roil. You closed your eyes against the movie reel torturing you in your mind. You imagined how their night would go, drinking, laughing, touching, stumbling back into his house at 2:00 a.m. Maybe he’d end up actually loving her, someone more like him. More than he claimed to have loved you.

The liquid contents of your stomach rebelled, and you threw up right on the edge of the street. You clung to a utility pole as you coughed and cried involuntary tears. You heaved and gasped for breath when you couldn’t stop.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?”

Alarm trilled in the back of your mind. You had enough awareness to look behind you. Finally, you noticed the guy. He’d approached you in the bar earlier, but you’d turned down his advances. You couldn’t remember what you said to him. He clearly remembered you, though. 

You waved him off, not even able to speak as you tried to stay upright against the utility pole.

He didn’t take the hint. He drew closer, wrapping the pretense of a helping hand around your arm. He fingered the edge of your leather jacket.

“You need a ride? I’ll get you an Uber or something,” he said, with the facsimile of concern. “Where do you live?”

“Hey,” a voice cut in, deep and with authority.

You tilted your head, and Mark’s stern face came into view along with the rest of him. Him and those damn bowed legs.

“Take a walk, pal. I’ve got her,” Mark said. He flashed his LAPD badge for good measure.

That made it even easier to knock away the foreign hands off your body and angle himself in between. His arm came around your shoulders, supportive and safe.

Half of you was grateful, the other half resentful, but all you could do was glare at him. He shot you a quirking smile.

The other man backed off, trying to hide his annoyance. He continued down the street with his hands in his pockets. Mark itched to do more than just scare him off. A familiar protective anger had burned in his blood, raising his hackles, but he had to focus on you.

He led you back to the front of the bar. He went slow enough for you in those red stilettos (ridiculous, he thought, no matter how sexy they were).

“Late night, huh?” he said.

“What d'you think you’re doing?” you said. Your tone would be more snippy, if you had any energy left. Your inner world was reeling, unfocused and barely conscious. You had no choice but to lean on him as you gripped his jacket, the dark blue denim rough between your fingers.

“Well, I’m thinking I could call one of your friends, have ‘em take you home. You came out alone?” he asked. He was trying to be civil, retaining his sense of humor, but there was no masking the concern in his eyes. Not completely.

“No,” you admitted, “but ‘m alone now. Obviously.” You snorted.

Mark’s lips twitched upward. He heaved a small sigh. “All right. Well, who do you want me to call? Sarah? Yesenia? Lauren?” 

After a moment, you shook your head, even though that just made it swim. Fuck.

“I can’t…don’t want them to see me like this,” you said. The confession provoked a sniffle, a tremble of your lips. This time, you couldn’t stop the sting of tears from flooding over. You covered your face, as if that could stop your embarrassment, your overwhelming emotions from clogging in your throat in a painful lump.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Mark said. His tone pitched deep and gentle. It was an easy reflex for him to give into as he soothed a hand over your hair to try and calm you down.

You didn’t know it, but there was a gaping ache in his chest that had never really faded away. Seeing you again, let alone like this, made it sharp and splintering.

He led you to his car, and he took you home.

For a moment, you saw it so clearly.

Tracing his brows, the line of his nose, and the cut of his chin while he slept. What his hair felt like between your fingers, loose and soft, or gripped tight with need.

The sound of his voice reaching deep into your bones. The way his arms allowed you to reclaim safety whenever he came back to you…

Worrying for your dad on his twenty-five-year beat in Homicide had transitioned into worrying for Mark. He was always quick to reassure you though, to downplay with his ridiculous sense of humor and good sex. The best, actually.

But it was the in between moments you missed the most.

The distant sound of a lock turning in the door had you waking, slowly, a silent struggle in your bed. Your eyes cracked open.

Were you okay now? Was that him? Was he home? Had the past year just been a cruel invention of your mind to torture you?

…No. Your throat momentarily closed up as you realized. This really was just your shitty reality.

You groaned as you picked your head off the pillow, pushing your body up until you were sitting on the edge of your bed. Your bare legs hung off the side. You still wore your wrinkled black dress from last night, but your heels were strewn forgotten on the floor. You didn’t remember taking them off. You didn’t remember getting back to your apartment, let alone to your bed.

However, it all started coming back to you when the door shut again. Fresh coffee wafted in from the living room, along with something sweeter.

Your bedroom door creaked open, and there he was. Mark fucking Meachum.

He held a tray with two hot coffees and a greasy brown bag from your favorite bakery. Your gaze crept up to meet his, though yours was decidedly grumpy.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile. “It’s already almost noon, but I figured we can’t start the day without coffee.”

“Did you stay here all night?” you croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, just, uh, took the couch out there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the living room. “Could use a couple of extra throw pillows though. Think I got another notch in my spine…”

At your persisting glare, his expression sobered.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all,” he said.

“Well, mission accomplished,” you snarked. “You can go now.”

Mark watched you try and fail to stand. You sunk back down to a seat on the edge of the bed, closing your eyes for a second while you attempted to stop your head from swimming.

He sighed and set down the coffee and pastries on your desk nearby.

“Have you been making this a habit?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but last night was the first bar I’ve been to in exactly nine months and...fifteen days,” you replied. You swept your fingers over your cheeks, grimacing when you found remains of your mascara. You probably looked like a gremlin. This wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to look when you next saw your ex.

Except you’d never planned to see this man again.

“All right,” Mark said. He grabbed your purse off your desk, where he’d set it last night. He popped it open, your private goddamn property.

“Excuse me,” you protested angrily.

He retrieved a whole pack of cigarettes. “How about these?”

He tossed you the pack, and you barely caught it. Your irritation grew and grew, along with the sting of shame. The worst part was, he knew he didn’t have to say anything.

The unfiltered nicotine in your hand was the reason your father died. He’d been the Captain of Mark’s precinct for ten years—the exact number of years since your dad had quit smoking. It hadn’t mattered much in the end.

Still, you resented that raised brow of judgment on Mark’s face.

You leaned over and grabbed a lighter from your nightstand. You fished out a cigarette from the pack, and you took your time lighting it up. You were being an asshole, you realized, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You made a show of holding the cancer stick between two fingers. You looked up at Mark, right in his eyes, and tried to channel Audrey Hepburn when you brought it to your lips for a long drag.

And you immediately coughed it up. Fuck.

Smoke polluted the air above your head while Mark nodded in vindication.

“Yeah. How’d that feel, Smokey?” he asked (all too high-and-mighty, in your opinion). He crossed the distance and took the cigarette from your hand while you kept coughing. He went into the bathroom to get rid of it.

Meanwhile, you held a hand to your chest and groaned. Damn him, he was right. Your stomach roiled at just the taste of that shit in your mouth, let alone first thing in the morning.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he suggested, sweeping a hand toward your adjoining bathroom when he came back out. “A little coffee and sustenance will be waiting when you’re done.”

“Seriously, you can go. You don’t need to wait up for me,” you rasped, but the man still helped you to your feet with a supportive hand on your arm and your lower back.

“Yeah, and what if you lose your balance and crack your head on the bathroom tile? Nope, not on my watch.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“He ain’t gonna help if you take his name in vain like that,” Mark couldn’t help but tease, fully expecting your glare. That was something your mom used to say.

You groaned, annoyed and still nauseous.

“Would you just shut up?”

“Nope, pretty sure I’m physically incapable.”

You snorted. “Clearly.”

He made sure you were steady on your feet before he left you in the bathroom. You avoided his gaze when he closed the door. His heart gave a painful pulse.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought.

Brushing your teeth and taking a hot shower had its innumerable benefits—making you feel alive and close to normal again, for example. But the one thing it didn’t do was get Mark out of your apartment.

You sat together on your couch while the TV played at a low volume. You saw the remnants of Mark’s night in your favorite throw blanket tossed over one of the armrests. The pillow he'd used for his head was caved in and smelling like his cologne, a rich, woody scent of sandalwood, spice, and musk.

You tried to ignore it while you finished eating a blueberry muffin. He polished off his third donut and washed it down with some more coffee.

“So,” you said. “Amber Oliveras.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Last night. You two were out together, seemed to be having a good time. Sorry I crashed your date,” you said, trying not to seem as bitter you sounded in your head.

Mark’s brows furrowed. “We’re, uh, not together. Not like that. We’re just working a case.”

“A case?” you said dubiously. “She’s DEA. You’re Homicide. What kind of case would you be working on together?”

He hesitated, brushing some pastry crumbs from his mouth. “Sorry, I can’t get into the specifics. You know the drill.”

Yes, you knew his cases were supposed to be confidential, but that hadn’t stopped him from telling you details before, especially because you were D.A. Valwell’s Executive Assistant. You had a higher clearance than the average civilian anyway.

But you let it go. It truly wasn’t your business, after all.

It was Mark’s turn to look your way. Morbid curiosity was eating him alive. Or maybe that was just the pull of being with you again, seeing your face, hearing your voice…even if you hated him.

He did think you were torturing him a bit too. You smelled nice, like floral soap and minty freshness. You were wearing an oversized shirt from your college days that was already threadbare from how many times you ran it through the wash. It slipped off one shoulder and barely went halfway down your thighs, brushing the edge of some little shorts. He had to stop his eyes from following the path of your bare legs.

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” he asked.

You paused. You even set down your muffin and chuckled, giving him a long look.

“How does it look like I’ve been?”

A grim silence fell between you two, thick and tense.

“All right," he said. "How long’ve you been smoking?”

You shook your head, lips pursing at his audacity. “You really don’t have any right to judge me. You know that, right?”

Mark rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, an anxious, frustrated tick you knew well. “Look, what happened back then—”

You rose a hand to stop him. “Please, for the love of God. We don’t have to go through this shit again.”

You got up from the couch, intending to throw away the coffee cups and garbage if it meant gaining some space from this man.

But he followed you, stopped you with an imploring grip on your arm.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said. He met your gaze, firm, earnest. “It didn’t go down the way she said.”

Your instinct was to jerk your arm out of his grasp, but he just held you in place, gently, but insistent. 

“Are you gonna let me explain this time? If you do, then just let me get it out. And afterward I’ll screw. I’ll walk the fuck outta here, and I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.”

You stared up at him, close to seething, but there was something in his eyes that stilled you, gripped you more than his hands. A sliver of doubt began to creep in.

Your sister apparently hated you enough to fuck your fiancé. Had she been vindictive enough to lie about it?

You had realized, all too late, that you couldn’t put anything past her. Mark could be stubborn, but he wouldn’t dig his heels in on this without a reason.

So you relented, with a small nod.

Breathing a subtle exhale of relief, Mark guided you back down to the couch. You turned off the TV and sat facing him with your arms crossed. You gave him an expectant look.

Mark steeled himself. Where to fucking start?

A beat to think, and then he knew.

He had to give you everything.

Nine Months Ago...

One late night. One fifth of whiskey at the hotel bar turned into numbers Mark stopped counting—until the Captain reminded him. Your father reminded him beyond the grave, with words Mark never forgot.

You’ve got someone waiting for you. Don’t take that for granted.

He needed to find you.

Somehow, he made it to the elevator by himself. Third floor. Room 304, 305, 306. Fuck. Was it 309?

The door opened, and his addled fucking brain thought it was you at first. She almost had your eyes, if just half the sincerity of your smile.

Rachel welcomed him in and shut the door. He stumbled at the threshold, and she stopped him from falling completely onto the floral-patterned carpet.

“Oh my God, Mark. You okay?”

No. And he knew he wasn’t ever gonna be okay.

But her hands were warm, carving sensuous paths under his leather jacket without him realizing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” she said, guiding him further into her hotel room. With slurring words, Mark asked her to go find you. He needed to talk to you.

“Shit, think I left my phone downstairs too. Needa get it,” he muttered.

“You’re a mess. I think you need to lay down first,” she said, huffing as she supported his weight over to her bed. She helped him lay down. A subtle smile tugged at her lips as she began to open up his jacket. He resisted at first, giving her a look of confusion.

“You should get comfortable. I doubt we’re gonna be able to move you from here.” She giggled.

He guessed he could see the sense in that. He let her help him shrug the black leather jacket off. You helped him pick it out a couple of weeks ago while you were planning for this trip.

Rachel tossed his jacket to the foot of the bed, and she sat close to him on the edge of it. Her bare thigh brushed against his arm as the skirt of her dress rode up. It looked like she’d been about to take a shower after a night out with you and your friends. He instinctively moved his arm, crossing it with the other over his chest.

“You know, I never got a chance to thank you,” she said.

Mark’s brows furrowed. It was taking all of his concentration just to keep her face in focus.

“For what?”

“You were really there for me when Dad passed. You were like our rock, coming by with food, checking in on me when you visited. It really meant a lot to me,” she said. Her words said one thing, but her eyes were beginning to lead him somewhere.

“Your dad was a good man,” he said tiredly. “You guys went through a lot. You, your mom, your sister. It uh, hit her pretty hard.”

Rachel’s lips pressed together. “Yeah… She was his favorite, you know.”

Mark blinked. “What, he said that?”

“He didn’t have to,” she said, glancing away. She began to drum her fingers against his arm. He noticed it, but he was also trying to concentrate on what she was saying. “He always talked to her more, trusted her more, even when he was harping on her. She got that government job, probably thanks to him. But he was proud of her.”

“’M sure he was proud of you too,” Mark said.

“No, I don’t think so. I just don’t know why,” she said, sniffling as tears welled up in her eyes.

Mark frowned in sympathy. “Aw, hey.”

He didn’t know how to make her feel better, but he didn’t like to see her cry either. He sat up the best he could in the bed. She met him halfway, burying her face in his chest and sliding her arms around his middle for a hug. He gave her that comfort, patting her on the back.

Only, she didn’t stop there. She shimmied a bit higher and buried her face in his neck, where she pressed a little kiss. An alarm bell rang in Mark’s mind, but his body was too slow to respond. She turned her head and laid another kiss on his cheek, and then his lips.

He finally jerked back, holding her at arm’s length.

“Hey. What the hell’re you doing?” he demanded. His tone was sharp without a filter.

Rachel’s tearful eyes met his as she bit her lip. Her hand tentatively drew down his chest, warm over his shirt.

“I just…I finally had to tell you how much you mean to me,” she said. “And I think she takes you for granted.”

His brows furrowing, Mark grabbed her wrist.

“Rach, I love you. I really do, but you’re like a lil' sister to me. I love your sister. I wanna marry her.”

The thought alone struck a sharp jolt of pain through his skull, and through his chest. He did want a life with you. But is that fucking fair?

Could he really shackle you to a dying man?

Sure, he didn’t know how long he had, but that could be a cruel waiting game, one you'd just gone through with your father for three months. Mark didn’t want to put you through that all over again.

“Look, just...go tell her 'm here. Please,” he said. The fight was draining out of him. His energy was waning, his eyes blinking slow.

Rachel nodded, wiping at her tears. She left him in a huff, but she went to lock herself up in the bathroom first. The sink faucet turned on.

Mark sighed. Fine, let her clean up and pull herself together, but she’d better go get you. He doubted he could make it, even if he crawled. But if he had to, he would…

Slowly, the ticking seconds turned longer. His eyes grew heavier, until he was unable to pry them open again. He fell asleep.

He woke to a streaming sun in his eyes, and a pounding ache between them.

Shit. He groaned, covering his eyes. Maybe getting drunk wasn’t good for an already fucked head after all.

“Hmm, good morning, sleepyhead.”

Mark frowned. He looked over and found Rachel leaning on his arm. She was lying naked under the thinnest sheet. He knew, not only because of her bare shoulders, but her nipples poking through the fabric.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunted, immediately turning over to climb out of the bed. He was very fucking relieved to see he still had his jeans and underwear on, but his shirt was missing. He found it strewn on the floor.

“You actually did that yourself,” Rachel remarked. “Think you got a bit hot last night.”

There was a playful note in her voice. Mark grit his teeth. He was fucking pissed.

“You’re over the fucking line, you hear me?” he snapped.

“What, are you really gonna tell her?” she taunted. “It’s not like we did anything. I just prefer to sleep naked.”

He snorted. Sure. And what happened to the part where she was supposed to go find you and tell you where he was? No, the girl saw an opportunity, and she took it.

Mark hesitated though, because she raised a good point. Goddamn it, what was he going to tell you?

His jaw clenched, and he angrily finished getting dressed. He got up and stormed out of the hotel room, but not before Rachel got of out bed and let the sheet fall away from her slender form. She walked in confidence and feminine sway over to the bathroom, smiling in amusement when he quickly turned away before he saw anything.

The door slammed shut.

Her smile slowly fell. Tears of embarrassment stung in her eyes. Not really because he was mad at her, but because he’d rejected her too.

She knew it was wrong. Yeah, she was pretty sure it was the worst thing she’d ever done. Part of her even hated herself for it. You were her older sister, after all. You, who always looked out for her when you two were kids—better than Mom did. You, who got the most attention from Dad, and the quiet reliance of Mom.

Yeah, Rachel did love you...but she also kind of hated you too.

After she got dressed, she went back to find her phone. She cycled through the pictures she took, every angle that made it seem like your fiancé had spent the night in her arms after the hot and steamy bits.

It was a joke. A cruel prank. But maybe after this, you wouldn’t open your mouth to criticize her ever again. Maybe you’d think twice next time, because in the back of your mind, you’d remember that she could’ve had your man.

Now...

Mark finished telling you the story from his perspective. He gave you as many details as he could remember: what she said and did, and what he said and did.

Understandably, you were getting more upset by the moment. That pendulum swung between shock, and anger, and upset again. It all culminated in hot tears as you crossed your arms, holding a hand over your mouth.

“How do I know that’s true?” you asked, wiping vainly at your cheeks.

The problem was, you wanted to believe him. Of course, you also wanted to believe your sister wasn’t quite as screwed up and hateful as you thought she was, but even this was insane. You'd only ever tried to look out for her. Maybe along the way you had been a little critical, a little too judgmental. But had you really deserved this?

Could you even let yourself hope it was all a lie?

Mark met your gaze head on. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

You sighed in frustration. “Mark, you’re a professional fucking liar. I’m not a human polygraph.”

“But you know me.”

“I thought I did,” you said, rubbing at your eyes with shaking hands. Eventually, you were able to look at him again. “If what you said is true, why the hell didn’t you just tell me that?”

“You wouldn’t let me! You made up your mind before I could get a word in edgewise.”

“I was angry!"

God, what an understatement. You'd been so furious and hurt, you'd seriously debated taking one of your dad's old golf clubs and knocking out every window, headlight, and tail light in Mark's precious car.

"So you're saying you didn’t even fight for me. You just let me think the worst of you all this time? For what?!” You sunk your hands into your hair and pulled hard on the strands. You shook your head. “And you know what, why did you get so drunk in the first place? Your friends told me you went back to the hotel early, by yourself. It had to be for a reason.”

Mark nodded slowly.

That was when he knew, he really did have to give you everything.

“You, uh…remember those headaches I’d been getting?” he said. “Started about a month after your dad passed.”

Your brows wrinkled with a hint of confusion, but you nodded as the memory resurfaced.

“Yeah, you were going through entire bottles of Advil. But what does that—”

“I went to the doctor.” Mark rubbed a clammy palm over his jeans. He could stare down murderers, drug lords, and terrorists with steel in his veins, but coming clean with you was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He knew it in his bones, just like he knew why he needed to do it.

“Turns out… I’m sick, baby.”

Your expression changed, almost instantly. Traces of anger and doubt fell away, but so did some of the color in your face.

Mark took the chance to get a little closer on the couch. He laid a hand over yours on your thigh, but your whole body was locked up, sitting very still.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean,” he sighed, “I’ve got a mass in my brain the size of Nevada. I don't know how much time I got exactly, but..."

Your eyes widened. Your hands clenched into the fabric of your shirt, until your nails bit into your palms. As you processed those words and began to understand the weight of them, it sunk inky claws into your mind, into every shady corner.

You shook your head in denial, lips trembling. Mark just held your gaze, a silent confirmation that he said nothing but the truth.

"I found out a few days before the trip to Venice. I was trying to figure out how to tell you, but obviously I didn’t handle that part very well," he said.

Anger, stubbornness, suspicion, pretending you didn't care what he had to say—all of that faded. It drained out of your muscles, out of your pores. You began to fall apart.

You turned your hand under his and squeezed, hard. It was a while before you could speak, but Mark was patient. He held your hand and stroked his thumb back and forth across your skin while you tried and failed to hold onto your tears. Then your soul-wracking sobs.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. He brought you closer, soothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a coarse whisper. “God, Mark. Why the fuck would you let me think you cheated on me, with my sister?”

He gave a wry huff. “I guess I thought I was being noble. I thought I’d rather have you hate me, than try to stay with me. Watch me break down, bit by bit, for God knows how fucking long. Now I know I’m just selfish. I don’t want you to see me like that… Hell, I don’t wanna see me like that.”

You pulled back on him. Devastation filled your bleary eyes, but you caressed his cheek with a shaking hand.

“Have you gotten treatment?” you asked.

“Doc says it’s not worth it.”

The divot between your brows deepened. “What about a second opinion?”

He hesitated.

“Have you seen another oncologist?” you pressed.

“No. Guess I didn’t see the point. I saw the scans myself. I don’t know how you’d confuse a big fucking tumor for anything else.”

“Mark.” You shook your head and wordlessly guided him closer. You framed his face with both hands, while his own found purchase on the soft curve of your waist.

It was nice to feel your touch again…but at what cost? All that stubborn fire in your eyes, all that pain, it was everything he’d been trying to avoid. 

Still, you were gentle, sliding your fingers up into his hair. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

After all this time, you were still his peaceful spot. If you only knew the amount of death he’d seen in just the past couple of weeks on Blythe’s taskforce, the chaos, the stress of near-misses, being on the sweet razor edge of getting killed, saving his own body the trouble. That thrill took its toll.

Before that, those nine months undercover had been a divorce from his reality, pretending that he hadn’t left you broken along with whatever heart there was left in him.

He never imagined that he’d be here with you again. He never thought you’d forgive him, let alone touch him like you still loved him.

When he opened his eyes, you were still there. Tears clung wet to your lashes. You led him closer, where you tenderly rested your forehead against his.

He let you do it too. You were the only one he’d soften up for like this.

He smiled. “Hmmm. What now, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, but you slowly pulled back and opened your eyes. You didn’t go far though.

You guided him into an even more familiar path to your lips. It was more bittersweet than he remembered, but worth it all the same.

He was home.

AN: So, you guys forgive me? 😘💙 I know it's not the happiest ending ever, but it felt like a good place to pause for these two. Rachel was more complex than she seemed, and so was Mark's side of the story!

I have at least one more actual drabble in mind for these two, coming soon! 😂 Please let me know what you thought of this one 💜

⋆˙⟡ Get notified when every new story drops! Add yourself to my Tag Lists ⟡ Follow my fic library blog - @zepskieswrites - with notifications on. 💜

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Mark Meachum Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mark Meachum Tag List (Part 1):

It seems like a lot of people on the Dean tag list like Mark! lol So if you prefer not to be on this list, just let me know. I'll take you off no problem (you won't hurt my feelings lol 💜).

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@chevroletdean @hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @jackles010378 @nancymcl @spnaquakindgdom @bettystonewell

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989 @siampie @masked-lost-girl

@spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @globetrotter28

@cookiechipdough @winchesterwild78 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @iprobablyshipit91 @bleuatlas

@mrsjenniferwinchester @fromcaintodean @kiddieclaws

[hellsbellssinclub]

How the fuck did this fic turn into smut? It was supposed to be survival horror and I haven’t even gotten to the horror just surprised kinky smut that I am now ashamed to be writing

Wtf brain. Wtf

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

[yokumirumerafan]

DS x reader (you accidentally sent a nude to them)

I did this with MHA boys and it's Demon Slayer turn!! Hope you enjoy <33

Hashiras:

🔥 Rengoku ("EXCELLENT FORM, Y/N!— Wait, what is this?!")

He’s literally mid-bite into his food when he sees the notification pop up on his phone. He casually opens it, expecting something completely normal—AND THEN HE CHOKES. Literally almost dies. His brain freezes, and in a reflex, he blurts out, "UMAI!" before realizing WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY?!

After a full minute of staring, contemplating life choices, and sweating, he finally texts back:

"Ah, my love, is this the dish you intended to prepare for tonight?" 😳

(Translation: "I don’t know how to respond, so I'm pretending this is normal.")

🌊 Giyuu (internal crisis mode activated)

Giyuu opens the message, blinks once, blinks twice, then freezes like a Windows XP shutdown screen.

"Y/N… what the fuck… I’m at work."

BUT HE DOESN’T DELETE IT. Oh no, he saves it. But in his brain, he justifies it like, "Well, I’m her boyfriend, so it’s fine, right? I have a RIGHT to have my girlfriend’s photo, RIGHT?"

And now, he can't focus on his work because every time someone calls his name, he's thinking, Did they see? Do they know? Am I a disgrace to the Water Hashira name?

🌪 Sanemi (throws phone across the room)

The second he sees your name pop up with an image, he instinctively opens it. Big mistake.

He YEETS HIS PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM so hard it leaves a dent in the wall. "WHAT THE FUCK—"

After five minutes of pacing, running a hand through his hair, and cursing at thin air, he tiptoes over to pick up the phone, glances at it again (while muttering "just one more time"), and then saves it without thinking.

Two seconds later:

"You’re an idiot. But a fine-looking idiot. I’ll be teasing you about this forever."

And he DOES. Every chance he gets.

🎆 Tengen ("Flashy, but could use better lighting.")

Tengen examines the picture like a fucking ART CRITIC. His first thought isn’t "Wow, Y/N is hot." No, no. His first thought is: "This needs better lighting."

He literally squints at the screen, analyzing it like he’s about to write a professional review. Then he texts back:

"Next time, use the other lingerie set. And honestly, the lighting is a bit off—try positioning yourself near a window. Flashy things deserve proper presentation, after all."

His wives: "EXCUSE ME???" 💀💀💀

☁️ Muichiro ("Why would you send this? Oh well.")

He opens it. He blinks. He turns off his phone. He puts it in his pocket.

Five minutes later… he takes it out again.

He opens it one more time. He blinks again.

Then, without a single ounce of emotion, he saves it and deletes it five seconds later like he’s playing some kind of weird self-control game.

Finally, you get a text:

"Not sure what you want me to say."

💖 Mitsuri (blushes so hard she faints)

Poor girl. She literally malfunctions. As soon as she sees the image, she lets out the cutest little squeak and FLINGS HER PHONE.

She tries to calm herself down by drinking tea but her hands are shaking. She tries to breathe but her lungs are malfunctioning. She tries to text you back but her fingers won’t work.

Eventually, she FAINTS.

You don’t get a response for HOURS until she finally texts:

"OMG Y/N I DIDN’T EXPECT THAT BUT WOW YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL BUT ALSO OMG I THINK I DIED FOR A SECOND???"

🐍 Obanai (stares in judgment but secretly combusts)

He reads the message. His face doesn’t change. His expression remains 100% deadpan.

But on the inside? His soul is burning in hellfire.

He grabs Kaburamaru, his snake, and just whispers, "What do I do with this?" 💀

Finally, he texts back:

"This is highly inappropriate."

...And then IMMEDIATELY follows up with:

"Not that I dislike it. Just saying."

Main Trio + Genya:

🐉 Tanjiro (IMMEDIATE APOLOGY TEXT BACK)

The moment he opens the picture, his soul leaves his body.

He panics so hard he starts BOWING TO HIS PHONE.

Then, he starts typing like a madman.

"I'M SORRY! I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEE THIS, I SHOULDN’T HAVE LOOKED, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I RESPECT YOU, I WILL DELETE THIS, I AM UNWORTHY—"

⚡ Zenitsu (NO THOUGHTS, JUST NOSEBLEED)

Zenitsu SCREAMS. FAINTS. DIES. REVIVES.

Then he saves it.

Then he faints again.

Then he texts you:

"Y/N. I'M NEVER LETTING GO OF THIS PHONE."

(Tanjiro beats his ass immediately.)

🐗 Inosuke (doesn’t understand but likes the colors)

Inosuke literally tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh, this is that game you were talking about, right?"

He likes the colors and the angles, but he has absolutely no clue what he’s looking at. 💀

🔫 Genya (deletes and prays for forgiveness)

As soon as he opens it, his whole body shuts down. His face is redder than Sanemi’s rage.

He immediately deletes it like it’s a crime, but when you tell him it’s okay to keep it, he just…

"I… uh… I mean… uh… I— ERROR 404 GENYA NOT FOUND."

Upper Moons + Muzan:

🥊 Akaza ("RESPECT WOMEN" mode activated)

He bows to his phone.

"I MUST NOT LOOK. BUT I MUST. BUT I MUSTN’T."

He puts the phone down and just stares at it like it’s cursed.

❄️ Douma (SAVING IT, ZOOMING IN, SETTING AS WALLPAPER 💀)

No hesitation.

SAVES. ZOOMS IN. SET AS LOCK SCREEN.

And then he texts you back:

"Mmm, lovely. You got more?"

(Y/N BLOCKED HIM.)

👁 Kokushibo ("Unnecessary." But is sweating profusely)

"Unnecessary."

But he doesn’t delete it.

🩸 Muzan ("Kneel." …Excuse me, sir?? 😳💀)

No words. Just one command.

"Kneel."

…HUH??? 😳💀

[shaiyasstuff]

so hawoo, i saw your writings and i lurv it QuQ and I saw you accept requests for a tiny bit?

if ish okay, i had an HC idea in mind QuQ so sometimes, just sometimes, when we are travelling with someone, particularly a close family, we might get... into a certain disagreement and sometimes argument yea?

so let's say each of the LADS boys and you had an argument while in a holiday, how would both make up? QuQ what will each men do?

it's totally okay to make it either headcannon style or story? whichever you're okay with ✨ and if it's too many, you can just write mr. crow and mr. apple-sunshine since i like them both ><

ps: this is random but... since i read that other request that involves size difference... 😳 i mean i likey >< and being a 5‘3 (i think? since i use cm and foot measures are so confusing @u@) plus being a sylus girlie (and a bit of caleb girlie) well, you know i'm almost a whole foot away from both these men QAQ)

sorry for writing a lot in the ask section QwQ thank chu for taking the time to read all these and i hope you're having the nicest holiday ✨( ´∀｀)

Aww thank you!! Don’t apologise for anything sweetie. Here, you ask and I deliver, no apologies needed🥹🫶🏻 unfortunately I do not write for Caleb because I can’t really get a grasp on his character yet. Perhaps in the future, I’ll do a rewrite of this just for you (or maybe ehem @blessdunrest can help)

Here is how the LADS boys would try to make up after an argument during your holiday getaways.

(I will leave the circumstances of the argument up to you, I wrote the scenes to be set after the argument itself, focusing more on how they would make it up to you, enjoy!)

Zayne

The guest room is quiet when you return. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that settles after something sharp, something unresolved. Your bag’s still unpacked by the door.

The sun has long dipped beneath the line of trees beyond the window, casting the room in a low amber glow that pools in corners and slips across the floor.

You sigh and start to change out of the clothes from earlier—still rumpled from walking too far and talking too little.

And then you see it.

A cup. Your favorite warm drink, placed neatly on the nightstand. The steam has thinned, like it’s been sitting a while, but the effort is unmistakably him. No note. No explanation. Just the smallest bridge, laid gently between you.

You don’t touch it. Not yet.

Outside, the wind stirs the branches. You catch a glimpse of him through the glass door—on the balcony. Hands in his coat pockets.

The same coat he wore when the two of you first arrived, when he offered you the window seat on the train without saying a word.

You open the door quietly. Step out.

He doesn’t turn to you. Just keeps his eyes on the horizon where the last of the light fades.

“I was wrong,” he says after a long silence. “About what I said earlier.”

The words come slowly. Like it costs him to admit them, but he does it anyway. For you.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” he continues.

“Sometimes I… I think too much. I try to stay in control of everything, and I forget that I’m not the only one in this.”

You watch him carefully, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curl in his coat pocket like he’s holding something in—something heavy.

“I don’t want this to ruin the time we have here,” he says softly.

“I don’t want you to remember this trip as the one where I hurt you.”

Finally, he turns his head, eyes meeting yours. In them, something raw flickers. Quiet remorse. That particular tenderness he never shows to anyone else.

“I’m not great at fixing things,” he adds. “But I want to try. With you.”

He hesitates—then offers a small, almost shy suggestion.

“Maybe tomorrow we could start fresh. Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet. You can pick.”

And for a long moment, he holds your gaze. Like he’s hoping you’ll say yes. Like it matters more than he can put into words.

Sylus

You don’t slam the door when you come in, but the silence that follows is louder than anything you could’ve said.

The villa is dim—just the flicker of one dying candle on the table, shadows curling along the walls. Rain taps against the tall glass windows, steady and unrelenting. The storm outside hasn’t let up, and neither has the one still simmering in your chest.

You expect him to be gone. Or brooding somewhere far away, like he always does when things fall apart.

But he’s there.

Sitting in the armchair by the fire, shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, a glass of something amber untouched in his hand.

He doesn’t look up when you enter. Just speaks, voice low and smooth like velvet dragged over broken glass.

“You’re late.”

You don’t answer. You’re not in the mood for his games.

His head turns slightly, just enough for you to catch the glint in his crimson eyes. “I didn’t realize sulking in the rain was part of our itinerary.”

That earns a glare from you, sharp enough to slice through steel. But he doesn’t flinch. He never does.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter.

He stands.

Slowly. Deliberately. As if the weight of everything unsaid finally pushed him to move.

“I know,” he says, walking toward you with that infuriating calm. “And yet, you love me anyway.”

You want to push him away. Shove him back into that fire and let him burn with every careless word he said earlier.

But then he’s right in front of you. Taller. Warmer. More real than ever.

“I’m not good at being soft,” he says. “I say the wrong things, I let pride get in the way, and when it comes to you—”

He stops, jaw tightening. “You terrify me. You make me forget the edge I built my world on.”

He brings your hand to his chest, where his heart beats too fast.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness,” he murmurs. “That would mean pretending I didn’t mean what I said.”

You stiffen.

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. There’s a difference.”

And then, softer, almost vulnerable beneath all that bravado.

“I missed you the second you left the room.”

He leans down, brushing his lips against your temple, breath trembling just enough to betray him.

“Let me make it up to you,” he whispers. “Breakfast in bed. An apology written in kisses. You name it, it’s yours.”

And then, with a crooked smirk, “I draw the line at begging, though. Even I have limits.”

Rafayel

You storm out before either of you can say something unforgivable.

The screen door slams behind you, wind tangling your hair as you make your way down the gravel path, past the rows of tall pines lining the edge of the lake.

The sky is still pale with late afternoon light, but your chest is a storm all its own—loud, spiraling, tight.

Rafayel had laughed.

Laughed, while you were trying to talk about something that mattered.

And maybe it wasn’t malicious. Maybe he was trying to ease the tension, deflect like he always did when things got too raw. But it hurt.

You find a quiet patch of rocks by the water’s edge and sit, hugging your knees, breathing hard.

You’re not sure how long you’re out there when you hear footsteps. Fast. Uneven.

“There you are,” Rafayel breathes, slightly out of breath, like he’d been running. “You can’t just vanish after a fight—my heart’s not built for this kind of cardio.”

You look away.

He exhales, kneels beside you, and gently places something warm-wrapped in a towel on your lap.

“…Is this a bribe?” you mutter.

“A peace offering,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “Handmade. Still warm. Possibly edible.”

You raise a brow, suspicious. “Did you poison it?”

He gasps, wounded. “I slaved over a tiny stove in a tiny kitchen with even tinier pots—for you. There’s rosemary in there. Do you know how much I hate rosemary?”

You don’t reply. But your fingers tighten slightly around the towel. The warmth seeps into your skin.

Rafayel sobers, voice quieter now.

“I shouldn’t have laughed,” he says, and his usual lilt softens into something tender. “I panic when things get serious. Especially when I care too much.”

You glance at him. His expression is still boyish, teasing—but his eyes give him away. Bright, worried, sincere.

“I thought I had time to figure out how to be good at this,” he says. “Turns out, I really, really don’t want to waste any of it.”

You stare at the food, then at him. He nudges you with his shoulder, coaxing.

“One bite,” he says. “If you hate it, I’ll let you throw me into the lake.”

A pause.

“…Twice.”

You crack a small, reluctant smile.

And just like that, the storm begins to clear.

Xavier

You lie in bed facing the wall, stiff beneath the sheets, arms curled tightly to your chest.

The argument still burns behind your eyes, echoes of sharp words and colder silences stretching across the room like invisible scars.

You hadn’t meant for it to get so heated.

But Xavier—stoic, unreadable Xavier—had shut down when it mattered most. Again.

And he hadn’t followed you when you left the table.

Not then.

But now you hear the quiet sound of the bedroom door opening. His footsteps. Hesitant. Careful.

He doesn’t say anything.

Just slips under the blankets on his side of the bed, slow and deliberate, the way he does everything. The silence tightens around you like a second skin.

You close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep, to forget, to not care.

And then—you feel it.

His arm curling around your waist. Tentative at first, then firmer when you try to squirm away.

“Xavier,” you say, low and angry, “don’t.”

He doesn’t let go.

You twist slightly to glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already there, face inches from yours, eyes unreadable in the dark.

“I’m not letting you fall asleep like this,” he says quietly. “Not again.”

Your throat tightens. “You’re the one who—”

“I know.”

The two words drop heavy between you, flat and final.

He exhales slowly, forehead pressing gently to the back of your shoulder. You can feel the way his hand rests against your stomach now—hesitant, as if unsure he has the right. But he keeps it there anyway.

“I didn’t know how to say the right thing,” he murmurs. “I always think too long and speak too late.”

You don’t answer.

“I was wrong,” he says finally. “And I… I’m sorry.”

The words sound strange coming from him. Like he’s still learning how to shape them, how to offer them without flinching.

But he means them. You can feel it in the way he’s holding you now—not loose, not gentle, but like something anchoring. Something meant to keep you here.

Stillness settles over the room.

And then, quieter, “I don’t want to lose you. Even if I don’t always know how to say it.”

You don’t turn around.

But your hand slides over his, lacing your fingers with his beneath the covers.

And he holds on like it’s the only thing that makes sense in the world.

[httpsserene]

Heyyy, I just found your tumblr and I'm completely obsessed with your writing. Could you write something for Lance Stroll with a Latina reader who isn't rich at all, but they both love each other and have been in a relationship for a while. It could be with the established relationship prompt 13, 18, and 19. Thank you so much.

🛞  tread’s uneven: time for a tire rotation! — send me a driver and a prompt from this list of pre-relationship prompts, or these established relationship prompts, or these hurt/comfort prompts, and i’ll write a blurb or drabble for you xxx (prompt lists are made by me!)

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. unrelated but, did i imagine carlos mentioning that he was a fan of the marias in one of the old mclaren yt videos? because, i've been listenting to the band religiously for the past two nights while i've been writing and i'm soooo mad that i didn't listen to them sooner :( happy 3k 🩷 babes, xo !

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

#𝟏𝟑. "can i kiss you?" "you know you don't have to ask me anymore, right?" #𝟏𝟖. telling their family that they think they're going to marry you. #𝟏𝟗. staring at your lips when you talk. fem!latina!reader x lance stroll.

lance fell in love with you when he was ten years old.

you followed your brother to all of his karting races, and lance would always ask if you wanted to pass around a football with him before the sessions began. he was distraught when your brother told him that he wasn’t going to be racing next year because of the cost—and, lance knew that meant he wasn’t going to see you again.

he didn’t get to say goodbye, but that didn’t mean he was going to forget you.

every passing year, lance sleuthed through your brother’s social media platforms to see if you had interacted or been tagged on one of his posts. he was fourteen when you made an account. he was seventeen when you finally accepted his follow request.

lance waited a few days before liking three of your posts and commenting on the most recent one with a classic response to test the waters, “😍😍😍.” it was another day before you replied with a sequence of emoji’s that let him knew he still had a chance, “😳☺️🤭.”

his opportunity to reach out came when you posted a photo of yourself studying in a coffee shop with the location tagged—you were in quebec. 

lance laughed to himself in the hotel lobby in some european country. you may have never returned to the karting tracks, but you still lived in quebec—all this time, you were closer than he thought.

he liked the story and sent you a dm. he kept it simple: “i think you owe me a couple of football matches when i’m back home?”

one year later, the two of you were happily dating. now, many years later, he’s supposed to be paying attention to what you’re telling him about chloe’s wedding rehearsal later tonight but he’s forgotten to listen as he watches your lips move around consonants and vowels.

“your sister is freaking out about the flower arrangements and the wedding planner has no sense of urgency! ¡ninguina!” he watches you giggle hysterically for a beat before you continue venting, “as a bridesmaid, i’m allowed to beat her ass right—”

“—can i kiss you?” lance interrupts.

he watches your annoyance evaporate the moment you process his question, your tightly wound shoulders relaxing along with your expression. you lean forward and lance meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours and holding you there with his fingers lightly grasping your chin.

the two of you pull away after a few moments and lance presses his lips together, savoring the taste of you and the tingle of your lip gloss.

“stop distracting me,” you slap his chest, narrowing your eyes at him warningly before turning your harsh gaze to scan over the room, “no me impedirá luchar contra ella…”

he sighs dreamily as he watches you stomp away to beat chloe’s wedding planner into submission, your dress billowing in the wind beautifully. lance jumps at the sound of his dad’s deep laughter, startling as the man claps his hand on his shoulder heartily. 

“what?” lance questions, and finds himself genuinely confused as his dad’s only response is a shake of his head as he continues chuckling.

chloe appears on his other side, an amused smirk on her face as she looks up at him, “he’s laughing at how completely gone you are for her.”

“whatever,” lance scoffs, his cheeks redding at the ribbing even though he feigns indifference about it, “shouldn’t you stop her from killing your wedding planner? and!—you’re the one getting married this weekend, you can’t say shit to me about how ‘gone’ i look.”

“she’s my maid of honor. it’s her job to kill my wedding planner,” his sister giggles, “but, how do you manage to look more ‘in love’ than the couple who’s about to tie the knot?”

“because,” lance tugs at the strand of hair that was artfully left out of her intricate updo, a true little brother action, and dodges the punch she throws out in response (what is with the women in his life trying to assault him?), “i’m going to be marrying her one day in the future, hopefully sooner than later.”

“you’ve been looking at her like that for the entire seven years you’ve been together. only god knows why you haven’t made her an official member of the family yet,” his dad huffs out over his glass of champagne, “...you’re disappointing me.”

ignoring their dad, chloe squints at lance, “just don’t propose during my reception—that’s corny, and my sister-in-law deserves something better than that.”

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[hitomisuzuya]

hello dear suzu, hope your day’s going well.

I wanted to ask for a Scara x reader, but the reader is obsessed with Scara’s hands and always staring at them.. thinking he didn’t notice. But he actually did and wants to ‘reward’ us after a bad, long day of work.

I hope it’s clear, and I’m sorry if it’s not..!🫰

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. fingersucking. squirting. smutty appreciation for scara's gorgeous fingers. soft!dom scara.

scara's fingers are beautiful. and i am weak for them. he is ambidextrous, and it doesn't which hand he uses cause you are always guaranteed to-ahem😳

today sucks. no scratch that shit, this whole week has been bad for you. even right now, right this second, you feel like you are failing at something. sighing, you put your elbow on scaramouche's on your knee and rest your chin in your palm.

your eyes drift to his fingers, and wonder not for the first time if scaramouche knows how beautiful his fingers are. the elegant bend, the precision with which he moves them, the beautiful length. he is only doing something as simple as writing and still you are captivated by them.

you definitely couldn't fail admiring his fingers.

from his place on the bed, scaramouche can more than tell how stressed you are. you have been quiet nearly the whole day. you look tired, and you need to sleep. he could practically feel you staring longingly at his fingers. "hm?" he hums, glancing up from his paper.

you look a little forlorn for a second. of course you didn't think he ever notices how often you admire his hands. you knew sometimes things like this were hit or miss with him. "i was just wondering if you knew how beautiful your hands are? your fingers in particular?" you reply, curling a lock of hair around your finger as you look away shyly.

his fingers sure would make you feel better. this much you knew. his hands are capable of doing so so much.

scaramouche has to admit, he felt his ego stretch (more than) a little. "i know," pure egoism talking, "you have this habit of eye fucking them any chance you get. it amuses me," he smirks seeing the blush on your cheeks suddenly darken.

"i..i didn't think you noticed," you reply, drawn to looking at his fingers again as he twirls his pen between them. you swear he is teasing you because your mouth practically waters.

he waited for the question he could practically see forming on your lips. "can i suck on them? just for a little while?" your heart flutters in anticipation watching him put down his pen.

"here," he offers you his fingers, grazing his thumb over your lower lip. he may make you beg often, but he is always going to give his precious exactly what you need.

"thank you, this week has been really awful," there is nothing but utter sincerity in your tone. scaramouche sighed as his cock pulsed. fuck if it didn't turn him on knowing something so lewd as sucking on his fingers would make you feel better.

he shivers as your tongue licks across his thumb. "open," he commands, taping his index finger on your lips. you open your mouth, oh so eager to please him.

"mmm," you moan softly as his finger is pushed into your mouth. you glide and swirl your tongue, immediately sucking in appreciation as he pumps his index finger slowly in and out of your mouth. your pussy clenches feeling him explore your mouth, pressing his finger down on your tongue.

you moan again. it is erotically exhilarating for you. how much control he has over whether or not he makes you gag. your tongue tingles at the thought. and as if he could read your mind, he did exactly that.

"open again," the gentle press on your tongue makes you gag and open your mouth for his middle finger. you muffle a moan on his fingers, flattening your tongue on them. drool pools from one corner of your mouth as you suck, your hand stroking his wrist in appreciation.

scaramouche always watches you with complete fascination when you suck on his fingers. he never thought someone could get so easily aroused from just merely choking a little on his fingers. he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth, his cock pulsing from the feeling of your warm mouth sucking in worship.

"take off your clothes and lie down," he pushes his fingers into your throat, smirking seeing your eyes water as you happily gag, going back to sucking without missing a beat. "gives me better access to your body."

your tongue lingers on scaramouche's fingers as he takes from out your mouth. a string of saliva connects your tongue to them, and you marvel at how beautiful they look shiny with your saliva. more than feeling the absence of his fingers in your mouth, you hastily remove your clothes.

he licks his lips seeing the submissive way you put your arms above your head, like you are offering your entire body to him. moving next to you, scaramouche trails his fingers featherlight over your throat. your body practically purrs inside as he grazes them down to your chest.

you move your chest into his hand, a sigh that bled into moan met his ears as he circles each of your nipples. "so responsive," he approves, pinching your nipples in reward.

an sharp jolt of pleasure zapping straight to your clit. your nipples harden, sensitive under the pads of his skilled fingers. your pussy throbs, your walls clenching around nothing as he teases and pinches your nipples. he knows your body and can play it like an instrument.

"i can see the tense desperation in your whole body," you gasp in pleasure as scaramouche delivers one final pinch to your nipples before moving down to your drooling cunt. "it looks very becoming on you. my needy little doll."

your cheeks flush hearing such sweet praise. your pussy soaks so well on his fingers as he dips them between your folds. your hole clenches around the tip as he circles it, teasing as he traces the shape of your pussy.

"keep your legs spread," he commands shakily, wanting a good view of your creamy cunt sucking his fingers in. you nod, moaning as he pushes his index finger inside you. your hips rock up to meet his hand, feeling his finger graze across every sensitive nerve inside you before he slowly bullies your sweet spot.

it wasn't long before you are falling apart in the delicious pleasure only a single finger was providing you. your cunt clenches, begging him for a second finger. "more. more please," you whimper, unable to stand the throbbing in your clit anymore. your eyes look just as desperate as your pussy feels.

scaramouche chuckles at your sweet plea, his cock aching in the confines on his shorts. he always gets hard when you beg. your back arches off the bed as he abruptly thrusts a second finger inside you, scissoring your walls apart.

with his free hand, he sets to work rubbing your clit. a string of louder moans tears from you as his wags his fingers over the swollen, throbbing nub. your hips buck up to grind your clit on them. "that's a good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers," watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly is exhilarating to him.

you get wetter with every pump and scissor, pleasure humming through you and consuming you as he expertly built up your orgasm. all the stress melts away a little more every time he kisses your sweet spot, his fingers relentless on your clit.

a certain look flashes through your eyes then. one scaramouche knows very well. with how close you are to cumming, you realize then that you are going squirt all over his fingers. "how cute," he taunts, increasing his pace. he only gets harder knowing he is capable of this.

your orgasm came fast and sudden, your pussy gushing on his fingers. you are dazed and drooling, your body trembling as you cum hard in a fit of uncontrollable moans. "let's see if you got another one in you, shall we?" his smirk more than said he wasn't entirely finished with you yet. spoiling you is a kink for him, after all.

[jeonstellate]

darling

oscar’s presence at seventeen’s right here world tour stop in los angeles, without his kpop enthusiast sister, intrigues two different sides of stan twitter.

★ᝰ pairing: oscar piastri x femme presenting!carat!reader

★ᝰ warning(s): stantwt shenanigans heavily based on kpoptwt, swearing, mild privacy invasion(?), public gossip

★ᝰ note: for a prompt i didn’t think i’d ever write, i sure did contradict myself pretty quick. lmao. this came out way more self-indulgent than i thought, but i hope you still enjoy somewhat :] last thing: i apologize for the formatting, i'm not used to writing oneshot smau ><

★ᝰ disclaimer: most of the pictures used are from pinterest. most of the seventeen concert pics are mine! all credits belong to their rightful owners.

masterlist

oscarpiastri ✓

oscarpiastri spent the weekend very nicely

username the second slide??? HELLO???

username i see what you did there, osc. i support 💎 ♥︎ by oscarpiastri ↳ username he heard it too much that he learned the english title fr

username bro we wanted a hard launch—

yn don't you mean *aju nicely? 🤭 ♥︎ by oscarpiastri ↳ oscarpiastri —and now i'm having flashbacks ↳ yn you're very welcome 🧡

username heLP he's traumatized from neverending aju nice 😭

username i feel like i missed so many chapters because WHAT

lando so this is why you weren’t free to hangout with me this weekend 🤨 ↳ yn you literally had him last week??? it’s my turn ↳ lando no. you should’ve taken me along too ↳ yn you have too much faith in my ability to fight for tickets

username you're a carat???? since when????

username @/pledis_17 did y'all know y'all had an f1 driver in the audience

username are you guys seeing what i'm seeing 👀 ↳ username what are you seeing? 👁️ ↳ username look at the only comment oscar replied to ↳ username i am looking, respectfully 👁️

username caption’s so calm, i launched from my chair when i got to the soft launch slide

username i have. so many questions

username there’s so much to unpack here. imma need a moment

oscarpiastri ✓

oscarpiastri i want to be your first piastri choice for every concert now @/yn

username does this count as a hard launch or a soft launch? ↳ username we got a name/username, so i say it’s a hard one ↳ username i vote soft bc we didn't her face && her acc is priv

username bro the kpop stan on twt was right abt the light touches . . . 🧎‍♀️ ↳ username AND the sharing food + drink 🫠

username talk about instant favorite paddock couple

username your honor i love them already

username oscar is that her screaming joshua's name in the vid 😭 ↳ yn hi! yes, that is me :D ↳ username girl 😭 you got LUNGS

username our new wag is not just a kpop stan, but a joshushushu carat? i stan

username gotta love how oscar chose to include the clip of his gf screaming another man's name on top of her lungs and following it up with a pic of them holding hands ↳ username it's giving "karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me" fr

lando did yn damage your ears 🤣 ↳ oscarpiastri maybe . . . ↳ yn i- you’re surrounded by revving engines almost every week??? 🧍‍♀️

username are we all just gonna ignore the caption or ↳ username i can't 😭 the implication that he wasn't supposed to be the piastri accompanying her to the concert is too funny 😭 ↳ username watch the other ticket actually be meant for hattie LMAO

hattiepiastri no, back off. i'm yn's first piastri choice 🤺 ↳ oscarpiastri i'm her boyfriend ↳ hattiepiastri okay, and??

username we love a supportive bf <3

username they wore matching concert fits 😭 i LOVE

yn you’ll always be my first choice 💓 ♥︎ by oscarpiastri ↳ oscarpiastri and i, you 💓 ↳ yn i’m not a piastri tho? ↳ oscarpiastri yet ↳ yn i- 😳

★ᝰ note: this isn’t my element, so i’d appreciate it a lot if y’all let me know your thoughts! i just ask that you word them nicely, please :) thank you for reading <3

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Omg hii! I love your writing 🩵🩵🫶🏻 Can you make a soft and silly one where the reader is Si-eun’s sister and she’s albino?

Snowdrop Trouble

Characters: Si-eun (from Weak Hero Class), Reader (his younger sister, albino), and some cameos from Suho & Beomseok

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Found Family, Humor, Big Brother Energy

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

Your pale fingers barely grazed the bag of chips on the top shelf before Si-eun’s voice cut through the silence like a knife:

“Don’t climb the counter.”

You froze, mid-scramble, halfway up the kitchen cabinet.

“How did you even see me?” you huffed, twisting to glare at him. “You were in your room.”

“I have ears,” he said flatly, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the chips for you. He placed them in your hands without fanfare.

“You’re so annoying.” “You’re short.” “Genetic condition, dumbass—” “I know. I meant your patience. That’s what’s short.”

You snorted. Okay, that one was good.

You were born with albinism—white hair, pale skin, sensitive eyes—and a whole lot of drama from kids who didn’t understand why you looked like a human snowflake. Si-eun had been the first to punch someone over it when you were eight. He didn't even let you thank him.

“You’re not weird,” he’d muttered, tugging his bloody knuckles into his hoodie. “You’re you. And people suck.”

It was the closest thing to affection he ever said out loud back then.

Now?

He just grumbled when you stole his hoodie, blinked slowly when you spilled ramen all over his notes, and silently untangled your hair when you cried because it got too matted again from sleeping weird.

Si-eun had his own shadows. His own anger. But he never took it out on you. You were… off-limits.

Even to himself.

“Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Robot .”

He blinked. “What?”

You narrowed your pinkish eyes at him from across the living room. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re eating ramen with a fork. Again.”

“It’s easier!”

“It’s illegal.”

“...You wanna fight me over it?”

He sighed through his nose like a disappointed old man. “I would win.”

“I’m gonna tell Suho you said that.”

“…Never mind.”

You smirked.

Later that night, when the lights were dim and your eyes hurt (screens sucked after dark), Si-eun found you curled up on the couch like a snowball. You’d fallen asleep with your fuzzy hood pulled over your head and his textbook open on your chest.

He stood there for a long time.

Just staring.

Then, slowly, quietly, he bent down and lifted the book off you.

You stirred.

“…Si-eun?” you mumbled sleepily.

He froze. You rubbed your eye, squinting up at him with a lazy little grin.

“Thanks for always… y’know. Protecting me.”

He cleared his throat. “Go back to sleep.”

But before he could step away, you grabbed his sleeve. "Wait."

“…What now.”

You stuck your tongue out.

“You’re my favorite light mode demon.”

Si-eun stared.

“You’re… You’re the reason people turn on dark mode.”

You burst into laughter.

He didn’t smile.

But he did sit on the floor next to you. Letting your sleepy head fall onto his shoulder like it belonged there.

Because it did.

Extra Scene:

Beomseok: “She’s really pale.”

Si-eun: “Don’t say it like that.”

Beomseok: “No—I mean, she’s cool! She looks like a snow elf. Or, like, a K-pop vampire.”

Y/N: “I am a vampire. I’ll eat your soul.”

Beomseok: 😳

Suho, whispering to Si-eun: “She’s more terrifying than you.”

Si-eun: nods solemnly

[b3ach-bunn7]

WE SUFFOCATED OUR LOVE

a random number starts texting you and you decide to text back

Or, the bassist of your favourite band accidentally messages you and u fall in love

inspired by this fic 😆 and my fav band the driver era

band!au, no quirks, text form, eventual romance

————————————————————————-

September 18th

10:37 pm

Unknown: Ask Shiggy to grab me a monster on his way back

You: a monster?? are u 12…

Unknown: Shut up and ask

You: sorry I think you have the wrong number

Unknown: No I don’t

You: lowkey u do..

You: r u trying to hack me

Unknown: You’re still texting me so u would probably fall for it

You: okay ur still textjng me genius

Unknown: Texting*

You: Shut up.

You: okay don’t actually shut up

Unknown: Thought I was a hacker

You: maybe I wanna be hacked

Unknown: Is this flirting

You: maybe

You: r u really sexy

Unknown: Extremely

You: 😍 feeling bashful rn

You: why r u drinking monsters anyways

You: Wait am i actually messaging a 12 yr old

September 19th

4:03 am

Unknown: I’m not 12 years old

Unknown: I’m 24

Unknown: And i drink monsters for energy

Unknown: And because they r yummy

Unknown: And cheap

You: omfg you don’t need a separate text for every word

Unknown: Oh

Unknown: Didn’t think you’d be awake so late

You: well I wasn’t but SOMEONE is messaging me at 4am

You: also I’m 24 2

Unknown: Didn’t ask

You: kys

Unknown: Ok bye

You: pussy

You: why are u even awake so late

Unknown: I’m writing

You: omg 😳 are u an author

Unknown: Lol no

Unknown: I write music

You: OMG

You: even better

You: what do u play

Unknown: Bass

Unknown: And I sing kinda

You: kinda?

Unknown: I sing backup mainly

Unknown: Or lead if I’m feeling extra generous

You: generous?

Unknown: To please all my loving woman fans ofc 😫

You: EWW TF

You: DONT EVER USE EMOJIS AGAIN BRUH 😭

Unknown: 😭💔.

You: literally throwing up alllllxover my room

Unknown: Weirdo

Unknown: Go to sleep

You: don’t tell me what to do 🙄

Unknown: Okay don’t sleep

You: lowkey have to I have uni tomorrow

Unknown: Loser

You: shush

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

September 19th

8:47 am

You: FUCK YOU

September 19th

2:30 pm

Unknown: Meanie 😢

You: i overslept because of you

Unknown: Were you up all night thinking about me

You: i dont eben know ur name

Unknown: Dabi

You: oh ur sooooo emo and edgy

Dabi: Shut up

You: nobody... understands you😕⛓️🥀

Dabi: You gonna tell me ur name or what

You: Y/N

Dabi: Pretty name

You: dont stalk me plz

Dabi: No promises

————————————————————————

September 28th

10:02 pm

You: so if u dont go uni what do you do

Dabi: I told you i write music

Dabi: Am also in a band

You: wait are u like

You: successful

You: like do u make money from it

Dabi: Well yes

Dabi: Its my job

You: wait thats kinda cool

Dabi:  😎 

You: take it back so fast

You: do u stream ur music on like spotify

You: let me listen

You: whats ur band called

Dabi: No

You: mid name but i will look it up

Dabi: I dont wanna tell you

Dabi: Not right now at least

You: r u like super famous

You: am i messaging harry styles rn

Dabi: Im sorry i kept this from u for so long

You: is 1D cming back

You: plz

Dabi: Never

Dabi: Narry ruined us😔

You: HAHAH

You: HWO DO U KNOW WHAT TAHT IS

Dabi: I have a sister

Dabi: But seriously I'll tell you one day

You: how do ik ur not lying about ur music 🤔

Dabi: [image attachment]

September 28th

10:13pm

You: MINABHABHAE

You: LOOK

You: OMFG

You: [image attachment]

You: HIS HAND IS ALL TATTED UP AND SEXY

You: AND THAT BASS

You: just creamed my pants

Mina: GIRL

Mina: you dont even know what he looks like

Mina: he does have sexy hands tho

You: sexy hands = sexy face

You: its litch science

Mina: ur so whipped and its been a week

You: uhm

You: ten days actually

Mina: ur not right in the head

September 28th

10:22 pm

Dabi: Did my incredible bass shock u to silence

You: i literally collapsed when i saw it

You: i like the blue

You: also ur tattoos are cool

Dabi: Thanks babe

You: mhm

You: yh

You: did they hurt

You: when u got them done

Dabi: Nah they werent too bad

Dabi: Worst was probs the ones on my chest

You: r u like alll tatted up

Dabi: I am

Dabi: That okay?

You: mhm

You: very cool

You: i want a tatto but im lowkey scared like

You: what if it hurts

Dabi: Ill get one with you

Dabi: Ill talk you through it

Dabi: Distract you from the pain

You: mhm

You: yes

You: very good

You: my roomates calling me ttylxox

September 28th

10:30pm

You: [screenshot]

You: hes SOO FLIRTING RIGHT

Mina: oh babe this reads like a porno

You: DFHBAJHF

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

October 11th

8:37 pm

You: [link attachment]

You: listen to this song

You: LOV is the best band eva

Dabi: LOL

You: WHAT

You: its so good its my fav band

You: im seeing them next month

Dabi: Really

You: r u jelly

Dabi: Very

Dabi: If only i could be there

You: i think theres still tickets for sale if u acc wanna come

Dabi: You tryna see me in person?

You: mayhaps

You: ur just so mysterious

You: what if ur actually like a pedo

Dabi: The fuck

Dabi: I’m no pedo

You: okay cool

You: you can come to the concert then

Dabi: Seriously?

October 11th

8:47pm

You: MINA

You: PLEASE

You: [screenshot attachment]

You: SHALL I SAY YEA

Mina: UHM

Mina: YES

Mina: concerts are public so if he’s actually a creep you’ll be safe

You: OKAY

October 11th

8:50pm

You: okay omg

You: shall we actually do this

Dabi: Yeah

Dabi: You got another month to figure out if I’m a pedo

You: now I deffo think you’re one

—————————————————————————

October 17th

6:45 pm

Dabi: Does this sound good

Dabi: [audio message]

You: WOAH

You: that sounds really good

You: is that u talking at the end

Dabi: Yeah my roommate walked in

You: ur voice is so deep

Dabi: Sexy right

You: gosh so modest too

Dabi: I’m working on a new song but I can’t tell if I like that riff

You: u should like it

You: it’s very good

Dabi: Thanks babe

You: soooooo

You: can u show me ur band now 😁

Dabi: No 😁

You: 🤬

—————————————————————————

October 21st

8:33pm

You: what would u do if we meet irl and IM actually famous

You: like u pull up to the concert and I’m there but I’m actually like Jojo siwa or something

Dabi: I’d be a bit disappointed

You: u don’t fw jojo??

Dabi: No but she’s gay and I’d hope all my flirting was being put to good use here

You: hardee har

————————————————————————

October 25th

6:45pm

You: I’m supposed to be studying but

You: I can’t stop thinking if halloweeen😝

Dabi: You going trick or treating?

You: i wish

You: unfortunately too old for that now

Dabi: Loser

Dabi: My little brothers 11 so I get to do it with him

Dabi: But I gotta act cool like I don’t wanna do it

You: IM SO JELLY

You: can I borrow ur little brother on the 31st of October plz

Dabi: No weirdo

You: sigh

You: I’m going to a party at least

Dabi: Oh yeah

Dabi: What are u dressing up as

You: me and my friend are going as monster high girls 😁😁😁

You: shes draculaura and I’m clawdeen 😜

Dabi: Sick

Dabi: U have to show me when you do it

You: gosh ur so obsessed with me

You: but okay

—————————————————————————

October 28th

7:00pm

You: [image attachment]

You: the fit is ready

Dabi: Why aren’t u wearing it

You: im gonnna do the full reveal ON halloween

Dabi: Sigh fine

You: what are you wearing punk

Dabi: Punk 😭

You: LOL

Dabi: U can’t laugh

You: okay…

Dabi: You know that show curious George

You: HAHAHA

You: R U FONNA BE THE YELLOW HAT MAN

Dabi: You said u wouldn’t laugh 😔

You: NO ITS SO CUTE

Dabi: I got him a little monkey onesie

You: AWWW

You: THATS SO CUTE

October 28th

7:10 pm

You: [screenshot attachment]

You: when he’s a good older brother 😍😍❤️😝

Mina: okay bare minimum 😍😍😍

You: SHUT UP

—————————————————————————-

October 31st

6:00 pm

Dabi: [image attachment]

Dabi: Ur favourite childhood father figure

You: OMG

You: U GUYS LOOK SO GOOD

You: crazy how ur face is covered🙄

Dabi: You love the thrill of the mystery

Dabi: Let’s see ur costume

You: my party starts at like nine bruh 😭

You: im in bed watching movies

Dabi: Loser

Dabi: Imagine not trick or treating

You: u suck so much

Dabi: Ofc I do 😋

You: VOMIT 🤢

October 31st

6:07pm

You: [image attachment]

You: Mina.

You: look at his ARMS IN THAT SUIT

Mina: it’s bright yellow

You: HES CURIOUS GEORGE MAN

You: his little brothers the monkey

Mina: WAIT WHY IS THAT KINDA CUTE

You: IK

Mina: and he does look sexy in that button up

You: the tattoos🤤

Mina: love a man with a dark past 😍

You: god im so scared to see him

You: the concerts on the 10th

Mina: you’ll be okay babe Dw

October 31st

8:30pm

You: [image attachment]

You: it’s…. A full moon.. I feel myself… changing 🐺

Dabi: Woah

Dabi: You look hot

You: omg

You: thank u

Dabi: You’re pretty too

Dabi: R u wearing that to the concert

You: LOL NO

You: I haven’t decided yet

Dabi: U have to show me

Dabi: So I can find you

You: and how am I gonna find you

Dabi: You’ll find me

November 3rd

7:02pm

Dabi: [audio attachment]

Dabi: Listen please 😄

Dabi: What do you think

You: why r u acc good at this

You: I LOVE

You: yk it kinda sounds like LOV

You: I think you’ll like their music

Dabi: Girl I listen to them

You: GIRL???

You: sassy man apocalypse is alive and well

Dabi: Whos ur favourite band member

You: hmmmm

You: I like the drummer

You: himiko she’s so cute

You: but the bassist 🤤🤤🤤

You: Touya

You: need him in ways I can’t articulate over message 😳

You: uhm where did u go

You: did my thirsting freak u out

Dabi: No ur good

Dabi: I thought you’d like the guitarist

Dabi: Shiggy

Dabi: Every girl is obsessed with him

You: yeah but Touya is all emo kinda

You: I love it

November 8th

9:00pm

You: [image attachment]

You: fit check for the concert😜

Dabi: I love it

Dabi: Very Blue

Dabi: That’s my fav colour

You: that’s why I’m wearing it??

Dabi: Blushing rn 🤭

You: HAHA

November 10th

6:30 pm

You: On my way! now

You: tf

Dabi: Can’t wait to see you!

You: LOL SHUSH

You: im nervous

Dabi: Don’t be

Dabi: Im excited to see you

You: me too 😆

November 10th

6:50pm

Mina: be careful plz

Mina: there’s loads of people around but still

Mina: he could be a freak in disguise

You: I know babe Dw dw

You: I’ll keep u updated

Mina: good

Mina: r u gonna give him a biggggg fat smooch 🤤

You: SHUT UP

November 7th

7:00pm

You: are you here?

Dabi: Yeah

You: omg

You: im scared

Dabi: Lowkey same

Dabi: But im so manly and strong so im actually not scared

You: LOL

Dabi: Okay wait

Dabi: I need to tell you smth

You: is this u telling me the pedo allegations r true….

Dabi: Before we meet u need to know

You: yeah what’s up?

Dabi: Idk how to say this without u thinking I’m lying but

Dabi: I’m Touya

You: uh

You: what 😅

Dabi: I just didn’t wanna tell you because I thought you might like

Dabi: Idk people r so weird about it when they find out

Dabi: And I didn’t want you to just talk to me because of that

Dabi: Especially when I found out u listen to our music

Dabi: I’m sorry I never told u

Dabi: Y/N? You there?

You: yeah I just

You: slightly confused

You: idk how to tell if ur lying or not

Dabi: [image attachment]

Dabi: Theres the face reveal you’ve been after

You: what the sigma

You: okay

You: woah

You: so I’ve actually been dming a celebrity

Dabi: You prefer me or Harry styles

You: you deffo

You: but I think you knew that from my messages from before

Dabi: Yeah i remember

Dabi: Dw you can articulate all the ways you need me after the show

You: haahahahhahaha

You: 😁😁😁 okay

Dabi: I have smth for you though

You: you do?

Dabi: Yeah

Dabi: Go to the back door where that scary security guy is

Dabi: His name is Spinner

Dabi: Tell him Dabi sent you

You: OKAY

You: :((( THIS IS SO CUTE

Dabi: You like them?

You: I can’t believe u got me flowers 😢

You: thank you!!!

Dabi: That’s alright

Dabi: Okay I need to go warm up

Dabi: I’ll be looking for you in the crowd

You: I’ll be staring at you too

Dabi: I said looking

You: same diff

You: wait hold on

Touya: What?

You: nm nm

You: good luck for ur show 😆

Touya: Thanks babe

BONUS

November 7th

5:05pm

Touya: Toga

Touya: Toga

Touya: Toga

Touya: TOGAAAAA

Toga: WTF DO U WANT

Touya: If I was gonna get a girl flowers what should I get her

Toga: GASP GASP

Toga: WHO R U RIZZING UP

Touya: Literally fuck off never say that

Toga: is this that girl you’re always messaging

Toga: and smiling at ur phone 🥺🥺

Touya: Fuck off

Toga: IT ISSSSSS

Toga: IS SHE COMING TONIGHT

Touya: Yes

Toga: AHHSSHAHWHW

Toga: THIS IS SO EXCITING

Touya: I’m so happy ur having so so much fun

Toga: I so ammmmmm

Toga: but why don’t u ask her what she wants

Touya: It’s a surprise idiot

Toga: AWWWWWWWW

Toga: okay well if u wanna be so really romantic u could get her roses

Toga: or maybeee tulips or lillies

Toga: she’ll like whatevs u get her

Touya: Okay

Touya: Thanks

Toga: that’s okay lover boy 😍🥰

Touya: Kys

—————————————————————————-

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE OH EM GEE but it lowkey took longer than I thought it would… but i hope u all enjoyed 😁😁

also y/ns messaging is literally just how I message.. I fear this is the most self indulgent fic I’ve ever written

[studioeisa]

KAEEEE congratulations on 1k omg i can't believe i'm just finding out about this now??? i literally thought u had like 10k ndjdnjd your writing is novel worthy i cant believe you aren't running tumblr already 😔

📱 i would pretty pretty please love to hear more about actor jun if u have any thoughts to spare :3 and congrats again!! here's to many more hehe 🎉🫶🏻💓

high praise coming from one of the best writers on caratblr 😳 and i will always give jun to the world's biggest huihui <3 mwaaa!

📱 boyfriend actor!jun x reader (part one, part two). part of my follower milestone celebration. word count: 676.

Jun has started doing his own stunts.

A part of you knows that your fear is misplaced. He’s training with the legendary Jackie Chan, of all people. Your boyfriend is in capable hands.

Still, you can’t help but worry.

It had always been this way even before he dipped his toes into the action genre. Texts of have you eaten? during long shoots. Encouraging Post-It’s snuck into his coat pocket pre-flight. You worry, and you worry, and you worry, and Jun loves you for it. 

He’ll smile at the texts and force himself to eat something small. He’ll keep the notes in his wallet and reread them when he misses the sound of your voice. He lets you fret over him because you give as much as you get, and he would never say ‘no’ to you.

Even if it can be a bit— overbearing, at times. Jun keeps his eye rolls and scoffs to a minimum as you lather his body in efficascent oils, as you slap pain relief patches on his aching joints. 

“Bit of an overkill, no?” he mumbles. His supposed distaste is betrayed by the way he practically preens when you begin to knead at the knots in his shoulders.

You can only sigh at his attempt to be nonchalant. “My boyfriend is an action star,” you say, your teasing tone edged with admiration. It makes Jun want to swoon. “The least I can do is make sure he’s being taken care of.” 

“You can take care of me other ways.” 

“Shut up.” 

“How about you shut me up by—” 

There’s bickering, and teasing, and your fingers dancing along his sides to get him to laugh, to stop flirting. Jun is bone tired and every part of his body hurts, but he’s never tired of you. Nothing ever hurts when it comes to you. 

Jun can be a hypocrite, though. 

You realize this on an unassuming Saturday evening, a rare weekend where the two of you can just stay in. You’re reading a book by the couch while Jun is absentmindedly scrolling through SNS. When you let out a low, unbidden hiss, he’s immediately snapping to attention. 

“Babe?” he calls, his attention leaving the TikTok on his screen. 

“‘S nothing,” you huff. 

Your boyfriend sets aside his phone and leans forward from the other side of the couch, crowding into your space. “Liar,” he says. “What is it?” 

You extend your hand in response. In the low light of your living room, it’s almost invisible, but Jun doesn’t miss it. The raised, reddish skin on your index finger, put there by the corner of your page. 

“It’s just a paper cut,” you’re saying, but Jun isn’t about to have any of that. 

He’s on his feet before you can complain. “Come back here,” you whine. 

His response of “no!” is muffled as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He emerges moments later with your First Aid kit, his eyebrows furrowed with genuine concern and determination. 

“Junhui,” you say exasperatedly. 

He doesn’t listen. When has he ever? He kneels at your side and begins to rummage through the kit, mumbling about antiseptics and cotton balls. 

You two could have been done much faster if you didn’t resist him here and there. By the end of it, though, you compromise to a Sanrio adhesive bandage despite the absence of any blood at all. 

“Be more careful next time,” Jun says as he snaps the kit close. He poses the words as a joke, but you can hear the hint of worry in his tone. (He gives as much as he gets.) 

You close the distance to kiss him, and his expression smooths out at the familiar affection. “Overkill,” you tease, murmuring the words against his mouth.

Jun worries. You love him for it. 

At your peck, his lips curl up into a smile that you can almost taste. He doesn’t answer— just grabs your arms and pulls you down on top of him. You go down squealing, and then you’re both laughing until your sides hurt.

It’s the good kind of hurt, though. 

[slattlicker]

Write ANY spicy story about the schlitties (schlatt’s man tits). I���. I want to respectfully admire and ‘study’ them…… 😳👉👈

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * peer-reviewed tit study ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: he brings you lunch during a study session. you ask him to help you practice. he volunteers his body. things get clinical—fast. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: to the scholar who requested a respectful study of the schlitties…i hope you know this got wildly out of hand.

warnings: explicit content (MINORS DNI !!!) · med student/nurse!y/n · blowjob (m receiving) · power dynamic · public tension · interrupted spice · tit fixation (m & f) · mutual tit grabbing · car sex vibes · dom!schlatt energy · research-based flirting

enjoy, overachievers (｡•̀ ᴗ -)✧

✧✧✧

the practice room smells like disinfectant and stress.

you’ve got your laptop propped up, highlighters scattered, and your folded scrub top draped over the back of a chair. the table in front of you is meant for training—ideal for learning vitals, practicing physicals, or quietly melting into a pile of regret while prepping for exams.

which is exactly what you’re doing.

until the door creaks open.

"i brought food," comes a familiar voice. casual. teasing.

you blink up, startled—and then nearly drop your pen.

schlatt leans in the doorway, brown paper bag in one hand, and that smug little smile on his face. he’s wearing your school hoodie. it fits poorly, in that it’s clearly not his, but his broad frame makes it look criminal anyway.

"what are you—how did you get in here?"

he shrugs, stepping inside like he owns the place. "guy in the lab coat outside owed me a favor."

"you bribed an emt with an energy drink again, didn’t you."

"allegedly."

you groan, but you’re already smiling as he sets the bag down on the table and leans over to kiss your temple.

"you look exhausted," he murmurs.

"that’s because i am."

"then let me help you study."

your brows lift. "you want to help me with… medical exams?"

he leans against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest. "yeah. be your little fake patient or whatever."

you raise an eyebrow. "you offering to take your shirt off for educational purposes, big guy?"

he grins. "you tell me."

✧✧✧

he’s shirtless on the table five minutes later.

you’ve barely touched your sandwich. he’s already unwrapped his, humming through bites like this is the best day of his life.

you try to be professional. you do. but it’s hard to keep a straight face when your mock patient is sitting there with his legs dangling off the side, tan skin on display, and that cocky look in his eye.

“vitals?” you prompt, grabbing your clipboard.

“sure,” he says. “but only if you warm your hands first.”

you shoot him a look. “you think this is a massage?”

“no, i just think you touching me should be a luxury experience.”

you sigh, setting the clipboard aside.

“pulse?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. his skin is warm. his smirk deepens.

“elevated,” you note.

“wonder why,” he murmurs.

“blood pressure?”

“skyrocketing, sweetheart. must be the hot nurse.”

you glare.

he chuckles.

you step closer.

“breath sounds...” you say, placing your fingers lightly against his ribcage.

he inhales.

so do you.

your hand stalls.

you blink.

he grins. “you good?”

“i’m fine.” you clear your throat. “i’m being professional.”

“you’re being flustered.”

you scowl, reaching for the stethoscope. “lay down.”

“buying me dinner first might’ve been nice.”

“schlatt.”

“okay, okay.”

he lies back across the table, hands behind his head. the stretch of his torso should be illegal.

you place the stethoscope against his chest.

and immediately regret it.

because now you can hear it.

the steady beat of his heart.

strong. confident. comforting.

you glance up.

he’s watching you.

“…normal,” you say.

he smirks. “yours?”

you roll your eyes, moving to write down the fake results.

then, lowly:

“i think you skipped a step, doc.”

you glance over.

“palpation,” he says. “gotta check for tenderness.”

you narrow your eyes. “you’re not tender.”

“try me.”

you move your hands slowly over his chest, palms flat. it's a little ridiculous—he’s just fucking there, all warmth and muscle, and somehow still smug even as you prod his sternum.

"mm. yep," he says. "definitely tender."

you poke him, hard.

“ow.”

“babies don’t get lollipops after exams.”

“but what if i was so good?”

you sigh, bracing your hands on either side of him, leaning over the table.

"you’re the worst patient i’ve ever had."

"yeah? but i’m still your favorite."

you stare at him.

he stares back.

the silence simmers.

then:

"you gonna write me a prescription or what?"

you raise an eyebrow. "for what?"

he grins, hands finding your waist. "for another exam. i think i need a full work-up. maybe… over dinner? in your dorm? with less clothes and more hands-on testing?"

you laugh despite yourself.

“you really want me to ace this exam, huh?

he leans back on his elbows, chest rising slow. “wanna make sure you know your anatomy.”

you eye him. “mm. think i’ve got the basics down.”

his hands slide up your sides, deliberate. “then let’s get into practical application.”

you snort, but your heart’s already racing. you should scold him—remind him this is technically a school facility, that the table beneath him is meant for pretend patients and sterile technique.

instead, you step between his legs and tug his waistband.

“guess i should run another check-up.”

he watches you with a kind of greedy calm, eyes dragging down your face, your uniform, your mouth.

“thorough this time,” he murmurs. “real hands-on. i’ve got symptoms.”

“oh yeah?” you slide his sweats down his hips, slow. “what are we treating?”

he inhales as you wrap your fingers around him. “swelling.”

you bite back a smile. “localized?”

he huffs a laugh. “worse when you’re close.”

“noted.”

you sink to your knees.

he swears under his breath, one hand bracing on the table, the other brushing through your hair like he’s still trying to play it cool—even as you lick a slow stripe along his length. his thighs tense beneath your hands.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

you hum around him in response, mouth warm, slow, wet. you take your time—letting him twitch and strain and clench his jaw, watching the flush creep up his chest.

his voice is wrecked when he speaks again. “you keep doing that and i’m gonna forget what my name is.”

you pull back with a slick pop, eyes up. “tell me if anything hurts.”

“only if you stop.”

you laugh, and duck back down.

he groans louder this time, grip tightening in your hair, not to guide—but to ground. he’s already close, and he knows it. you can feel it in the way his thighs shift, the sharp hitch in his breath. you hollow your cheeks a little, just to watch him fall apart.

and then—

a knock.

“sorry to interrupt! just a reminder we’ve got this room reserved starting at two!”

silence.

utter, fucking silence.

you freeze.

so does he.

“oh my god,” schlatt says, half-choked.

you glance up at him, trying not to laugh, your hand still curled around the base of his cock.

he whispers like it’s a war crime. “you can’t stop now.”

you mouth 'we have to'.

he slaps a hand over his face, groaning like he’s being punished for a past life. “i’m gonna die in here.”

you snort, squeezing his thigh before rising. “then hurry up and tuck that thing back in before they add public indecency to your autopsy report.”

he glares at you, but it’s all for show. his ears are pink.

you hand him a tissue from your bag and fish around for your lip balm like none of this is out of the ordinary. “c’mon, schlatt. shirts on. pants up. act natural.”

he grumbles something about unfulfilled promises and cruel women in positions of power while cleaning up and shimmying back into his sweats.

you smooth your hair, give your reflection a once-over in the dark window, and open the door just wide enough to peek out.

two undergrads stand there awkwardly with clipboards, eyes wide when they recognize you.

“hey,” you say sweetly, “thanks for being patient. if you could just give me two more minutes? then the room’s all yours.”

one of them gives you a thumbs up. the other stares at schlatt—who, behind you, is clearly still adjusting his waistband—and mouths is that your boyfriend?

you shut the door with a snap before answering.

✧✧✧

the walk to the parking lot is suspiciously silent.

not out of guilt. not really. more like shared tension—like you both know damn well what almost just happened and your bodies haven’t gotten the memo it’s over yet.

the second the truck’s in view, schlatt veers toward the passenger side like a man on a mission—but then stops short.

you blink. “uh. you good?”

he glances at you, eyes a little wild. “get in the back.”

you laugh. “what?”

“front’s too cramped.”

“for what?”

he doesn’t answer.

just opens the back door, crawls in, and looks at you expectantly.

and maybe you should say no. maybe you should remind him you both have places to be. maybe you should pretend you’re above a little heat-fueled make-out session in the back seat like a pair of hormonal teenagers.

but your hands are already gripping the door.

and your knees are already pressing into the leather as you slide in after him.

he closes the door behind you.

and that’s all the warning you get.

his hands are on your hips in seconds, pulling you into his lap with a groan like he’s been starving for this. your knees bracket his thighs, your mouth finding his fast—hot, needy, and a little reckless. all the breathy restraint from earlier boils over.

his hands move up your back, under your shirt, fingers greedy against your skin.

you arch into it, one hand threading through his hair, the other gripping his shoulder.

he grins against your mouth. “you’re real handsy for someone who called things off twenty minutes ago.”

“you’re real smug for someone who almost got caught with his pants down.”

“you didn’t seem to mind.”

“i minded plenty,” you whisper, kissing the edge of his jaw, “but you looked so pretty, i got distracted.”

he groans, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. “say that again.”

you press your forehead to his. “you looked pretty.”

“fuck.”

he kisses you again, rougher this time—biting at your lip, letting out a noise when your hips shift over his.

your fingers skate down his bare chest, dragging slow as you pull back to look at him, breathing hard. he’s flushed, pupils blown, lips wet.

“what?” he asks, breath catching as you swipe your thumbs across his nipples. again. deliberately.

“just thinking,” you murmur, fingers teasing the swell of each pec. “they really are perfect.”

“they’re not even��”

“no, shut up. you’ve got better tits than me.”

he chokes on a laugh. “that’s not true.”

“look at you,” you say, giving one a light squeeze. he jumps. “they bounce. they’ve got mass. shape.”

“stop,” he wheezes, hands tightening on your waist. “i’m gonna develop a complex.”

“a good one,” you hum, leaning in to mouth at his chest, sucking a bruise right under his collarbone. “like a… medical marvel. patient zero for pec envy.”

he groans, head thumping back against the seat. “jesus christ.”

his hands come up, tugging your shirt until it bunches under your arms. he wastes no time reaching for your bra, pulling the cups down until your tits spill out into his waiting palms.

“you really wanna compare?” he says, low and smug, thumbing over one nipple until it hardens under his touch. “’cause baby, you’ve got no idea how obsessed i am.”

“show me.”

he does. with both hands and then his mouth—sucking at one, rolling the other between his fingers, humming like he’s tasting something decadent. you arch with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.

“god,” you whisper. “you’re ridiculous.”

he pulls back, lips shiny, eyes gleaming. “admit it.”

“what?”

he gives your tits one last squeeze. “mine are better.”

“you’re delusional.”

he flicks his tongue over your nipple and grins. “say it.”

“never.”

he laughs—open, shameless, so him—and then leans in again, kissing between the swell of your breasts before dragging his mouth back up to yours.

“fine,” he mutters. “we’ll settle this later. in bed. with scientific analysis.”

you groan against his lips, hips grinding down on him. “can’t wait for the peer-reviewed tit study.”

“baby,” he breathes, biting your lip on the next kiss, “i am the peer.”

the windows are fogged. your clothes are barely on. and when he kisses you again, it’s all tongue and heat and wandering hands.

until—

a distant door slams.

you both freeze.

he pulls back, panting. “was that—?”

you scramble off his lap, breathless. “we need to go.”

“what?” he blinks. “no, c’mon, just two more minutes—”

“nope,” you say, tugging your shirt back down. “you said yourself. front seat’s too cramped. you want more hands-on testing, we’re gonna need a controlled environment.”

he’s already climbing forward again, one arm snagging his shirt from the floor. “your place. now.”

“your driving better be as good as your tits.”

he snorts. “buckle up, doc. we’re skipping straight to the home visit.”

[extinctlesspains]

hiii i love your writing!! what about terry silver's daughter reader and sensei wolf? 👀 some tension and flirty rivalry could be fun 😳 thank you so much!

𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑇𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑦, 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑇𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑: 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟! 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑇𝑎𝑖𝑘𝑎𝑖!

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

The dojo gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, every surface polished to a pristine shine. It was a reflection of Terry Silver’s vision—order, discipline, perfection. You leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching Sensei Wolf spar with one of the more advanced students.

Wolf’s movements were sharp and calculated, a mixture of power and fluidity that commanded attention. His strikes landed with precision, and his footwork was deliberate. He radiated confidence—too much confidence, if you were being honest.

He caught your gaze mid-spin kick, smirking as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. The audacity of that smirk made your fingers itch to wipe it off his face.

"Enjoying the show, princess?" Wolf asked, stepping back as the student staggered to his feet. He tossed a towel over his shoulder, his tone teasing but laced with challenge.

"Hardly," you replied, pushing off the wall. Your arms remained crossed as you approached him, refusing to let him see how much his presence unsettled you. "I’ve seen better form from a beginner class."

Wolf chuckled, the sound low and irritatingly smooth. "And yet, here you are. Front and center. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you couldn’t get enough of me."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Don’t flatter yourself. Someone has to make sure you don’t embarrass the Iron Dragons legacy with your sloppy technique."

He tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Sloppy? That’s rich coming from someone who hasn’t stepped onto the mat all day."

You stepped closer, your chin tilted defiantly. "Maybe because I don’t waste my time showing off for an audience."

His smirk deepened, and he took a deliberate step into your space. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, his presence overwhelming in a way that made your pulse quicken.

"Showing off?" His voice dropped, quiet but sharp as a blade. "If you want a demonstration, all you have to do is ask."

Before you could respond, your father’s voice rang out from his office.

"Wolf! Y/n! Quit standing around and get back to work."

The moment shattered, the tension retreating like a wave. Wolf stepped back, his smirk never wavering as he picked up his water bottle.

"Looks like Daddy’s watching," he said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "Wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would we?"

You glared at him, your hands curling into fists. "Careful, Wolf. Keep pushing, and I might decide to show you what sloppy technique really looks like."

"I’d like to see you try," he replied, his tone playful but his eyes dark with challenge.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of training and frustration. Wolf’s voice seemed to follow you everywhere, throwing out comments that were just shy of crossing the line.

By the time the dojo emptied, you were ready to leave. But as you grabbed your bag, Wolf appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

"Heading out already?" he asked, his smirk replaced with something softer, more genuine.

"Unless you have another sparring session lined up," you replied, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder.

"Actually, I was thinking..." He scratched the back of his neck, a rare hesitation creeping into his voice. "How about a truce?"

You raised an eyebrow. "A truce?"

"Yeah." He stepped closer, his usual confidence tempered with something more earnest. "No biting remarks, no flirty jabs—just one evening where we don’t drive each other crazy."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. "And what exactly does this ‘truce’ entail?"

"A date." He met your gaze, his smirk returning, but this time it was softer, less cocky. "Dinner, maybe. No dojo, no Sekai Taikai. Just us."

You studied him for a moment, searching for any hint of a joke. But there was none—just a quiet vulnerability that made your heart skip.

"Alright," you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you in the dojo."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he replied, his smirk widening into a genuine grin.

As you walked out together, the tension between you shifted, no longer sharp and combative but something warmer, something new. For the first time, you found yourself looking forward to seeing where this rivalry might lead.

[sansaorgana]

maybe i’ve been watching too much GOT/HOTD shit but…tttw au where reader decides to seduce paul into p much being her servant (kinda like what cersei did to jaime except she still does actually care for him a bit). and lady jessica pushes for the marriage between reader and feyd to get her away from paul. i just feel like that’d make the fight between feyd and paul just that much more personal 🫢

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! I hope you still remember my multichapter fic 🥴 It's been a long time but I needed a break from it to create other stories and finally it's time for me to write the requests that were about this universe. For the start I went with this twisted AU and be warned because I have abandoned all my moral compass while writing it lol 😳🙈 I mostly explored the dynamic between the characters here and I don't think you have to know "Thrown To The Wolves" to read this story but it surely will make more sense if you do! 😊 Also, since it's an AU – and a wicked one as well – I didn't tag anyone from this fic's taglist. I also didn't tag anyone from the Feyd-Rautha's taglist because it's an AU of already existing fic that not everyone has read, so... I didn't want to bother anyone 😅

WARNINGS — INCEST, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), Reader is NOT a good person (as we already know... but she's even worse here)

WORD COUNT — 5,380

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

Watching your half-brother train, you only pretended to read a book in front of you. You couldn’t focus on the words because you were still rethinking the argument you had with your father earlier. Now, when Paul was officially an adult, Duke Leto Atreides signed a document that only solidified your brother as the heir and the next Duke.

He might not have been from a legal union like you were, but he was a boy. However, you had a feeling it was about more than that. After all, if your father wanted to change the law and allow women to inherit, he would do that. No, it was about Paul being his favourite. It was about Paul being prepared for this role from the moment he was born. It was about Paul being born from a woman that your father truly loved. Unlike your mother whose cold grave you had visited earlier that day. You were the only one visiting her.

To think that you were supposed to be born a boy. Paul was supposed to be a girl. Yet, the cruel universe played a joke at your expense. And now you were a burden of the Atreides family instead of an heir. Unless…

The book you were reading was a history one, telling stories of ancient times and the ways of the noblemen in the past. It mentioned gross and yet fascinating acts of the forgotten practices to keep the royal bloodlines pure. Incestous relationships between cousins… and even siblings. At first, reading the book late at night in your room, you had felt disgust at the mention of a sister-wife. But now, watching Paul training and reliving an argument with your father, you began having second thoughts.

The only way of getting the title of The Atreides Duchess would be to marry Paul. And he was of gentle, soft nature. He was not only devoted to you in his brotherly, naive love but also innocently easy to manipulate. You had done that multiple times before already; making him take blame for something you did or do something for you that you didn’t feel like doing yourself.

Would he be easy to seduce, though? You wondered, trying to shake off a small wave of guilt and disgust at the thought. You had to be stronger than your moral compass to survive. You knew already that Lady Jessica was plotting behind your father’s back to send you away, to marry you off to some awful, insignificant lord and get rid of you. Seducing Paul was your only way of staying at home and of getting the power you wanted.

To have an apple and eat an apple, you thought, biting on your lower lip.

Paul was inexperienced with women. Not that you were very experienced with men yourself but you were observant and interested in the subject. You studied books, interactions, gossip. Paul was not interested in such affairs at all. His whole life was studying and training, being moody and sad about his future role of the Duke.

Oh, the irony. He didn’t even want to bear this title that you so badly craved.

You closed the book loudly, startling him a little and getting his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but you only smirked and gathered your things to go back inside.

At the supper table, you were acting moody and annoyed. You watched from the corner of your eye how it was catching Paul’s interest. When you excused yourself in the middle of the meal and left, visibly pissed at something, it didn’t take him long to follow you.

“Sister, wait,” he called for you in the corridor when you were near the doors leading to your chambers. “What is it? Talk to me,” he pleaded and grabbed your arm from behind.

“Oh, sweet Paul,” you smiled and turned around to face his confused face. He was sweet indeed. And he was a pretty boy, which you hadn’t been thinking of before for obvious reasons. But it wouldn’t be that difficult to force yourself to kiss him and lay with him. “You’re so adorable for worrying about me,” you sighed. “You’re the only one here who cares for me.”

“That is not true, (Y/N), you know that,” Paul fixed a hair strand on your face to push it off of your cheek. “Our father loves you and my mother… She cares about you, too. In her own way. I know that.”

“Your mother?” You snorted, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “She’s plotting already, don’t you know? She wants to marry me off and… And you as well,” you lied, looking away and pretending to get all shy.

“What?” Paul furrowed his brows as he let go of your arm. He was shocked to hear your revelation. “Am I not too young to get married? I mean, I know I could but… Shouldn’t I get older and wiser and…”

“I know,” you interrupted him and looked back into his pretty hazel eyes. “But what can I say? They want you to have a future Duchess already, so she can come here and be trained how to be a great leader one day by your side… To replace me…” You faked a shiver of your voice. “That was the reason behind my argument with our father. What did he tell you?” You bit on your lower lip.

“That…” Paul swallowed thickly, not wanting to anger you or offend you, “That… That you are angry about me inheriting. I wanted us to talk about it, actually. I wanted to explain to you that it is not my wish. I would love to give the title to you. I do not wish to rule,” Paul assured you and took you by your hands.

All those sweet, gentle gestures that you had been giving no second thoughts until now since they were innocent. But now, you savoured each one of them, coming up with ideas how to use them against him.

“He lied,” you sighed and looked down, sadly. You felt a small sting in your heart but you had to ignore it. “The argument was about me not wanting to leave Caladan… Not wanting to leave my home and my family. I don’t want to be sent away… I will miss you, you’re all I have,” you faked a sob and hugged him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see how fake your crying was. You sniffed a few times to make it more authentic.

Paul was surprised and a little petrified. However, he put his arms around you to pull you closer and rub your back.

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), my dear sister… I won’t let them send you away if you don’t want to… And not to anyone you wouldn’t desire yourself,” he assured you.

“I don’t want you to get married yet either… I… I…” You were looking for the right words as you took a step back to look at him again, faking a shivering lip and glossy eyes by blinking a lot. “I wish we were children again. Just you and I, always together. I don’t want anyone to ever come between us.”

“No one will come between us, (Y/N),” Paul squeezed your fingers. “I promise you that. You’re my sister, you forever will be. I love you,” he nodded and gave you puppy eyes.

“You… You don’t understand,” you pulled away and opened the doors to your room. “Go away, I shouldn’t be near you,” you took a deep and dramatic breath in. “It’s bad for me, I… Oh, I shouldn’t tell,” you sighed and walked inside your room, hoping your weird reaction would intrigue him.

And indeed, Paul followed you inside. He caught you by your wrist and made you stop as the doors closed behind him. You had him trapped between the wall and your body even though he was the one holding your hand. But his grip was gentle as usual.

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). Please, what’s wrong? I hate to see you like this,” he was worried and desperate to help you. You bit on your lip and smirked, changing the atmosphere quickly as you took a step ahead and got free from the grip of his hand.

Taking a step ahead, you forced him to retreat and his back hit the wall. Your faces were inches away and you batted your eyelashes innocently as you stared at his lips hungrily.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Paul swallowed thickly.

“You wanted to know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered seductively. “It’s a sinful disease, Paul, and believe me, I’ve tried to get rid of it but I can’t. You’re all I can think about,” your words were so soft and quiet, almost inaudible, for his ears only.

“We…We shouldn’t… “Paul whimpered pathetically. However, he didn’t even try to push you away. You raised an eyebrow at him, genuinely surprised at the lack of more definitive reaction.

“So, you want me to stop? Tell me then, sweet brother. I don’t want to hurt you,” you assured him and caressed his cheek with the fingertips of your right hand. He closed his eyelids and breathed in your scent. “Want me to stop?” You repeated the question teasingly.

Paul didn’t dare to say it out loud. He only shook his head as a no.

You had expected this task to be easy but you didn’t suspect it to be that easy. When you pressed your body closer to his, you felt how hard he was between his legs. Poor sweet Paul, so desperate for any girl’s attention, so inexperienced. He would really let his own sister take care of him. You chuckled and finally joined your lips together in a gentle kiss, not wanting to scare him away.

It was your first kiss, too, after all. And, for some reason, you really liked it. You liked that your first kiss belonged to your own brother, to your own flesh and blood. Even if Lady Jessica sends you away one day to marry another man, he would never possess you with his first marriage kiss for your own brother had the honour.

“I know you love your mother,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Paul’s cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. He opened his eyelids slowly, looking at you in awe. It was adorable. “But she hates me,” you reminded him. “You must change her attitude towards me, you know. You don’t want them to send me away, don’t you? Who else is gonna kiss you so sweetly when I’m away?”

“I… I must leave now,” Paul swallowed thickly and pushed you away before running out of the room.

It left you confused but you knew that your confusion was no match with his. He was turned on and scared, he needed alone time. So, you gave him that and went to sleep yourself, a little anxious but also excited since the plan seemed to be working better than you had been expecting.

At first, Paul was ignoring you. Shyly looking away, blushing like crazy, avoiding your gaze. But you were relentless, always around him, talking to him with other people around, forcing him to answer and look at you. Eating by the same table, you would find moments when no one paid attention so you could treat yourself with fruit and honey in the most seductive manner while looking into his eyes. And you made sure to touch him briefly every time you walked past him. The poor boy was in physical and mental torture, you could see that and you only waited for him to snap.

You began to wear more revealing dresses and show off your body. But everything changed on the day you walked inside his bathroom, pretending it was an accident. He was in the bathtub, you just wanted to borrow a towel – a stupid and unbelievable excuse.

However, you didn’t walk in on him relaxing or taking a nap in the embrace of  warm water, no. You walked in on him being busy with himself with his lips parted, head thrown back and eyes shut close. The name he was moaning out loud was yours.

Gently, not wanting to startle him, you helped him to finish. And even though at first he was terrified of you seeing him like that he quickly gave in, too desperate to have any shame left in his body.

That act sealed your sinful union. He finally gave in to the ill-natured attraction and began to follow you around like the most loyal servant. And whenever you were left alone, he was like an overexcited puppy, wanting to kiss and be kissed, wanting to touch and be touched. Just in case – aware of the norms noble women were supposed to live by – you didn’t allow him to actually spoil your innocence. But everything else was allowed.

You were not only pleased with your seductive skills and the fact you had the future Duke wrapped around your little finger. Some twisted, wicked part of you was also happy from the fact that you managed to spoil your father’s favourite child; his little precious toy was broken now. Paul Atreides was rotten forever now. There was no going back from such sin.

You were damned already anyway. But it felt nice to drag someone down with you just for the sake of annoying your father and Lady Jessica.

Your own pride made you less attentive and careful, meanwhile Paul’s mother was very observant when it came to her son. He was the apple of her eye. She knew that his relationship with you had always been close but she noticed the sudden odd mood swings of Paul. First, he avoided you nearly shyly, only to follow you around even more than ever before again? You two had always been hugging sometimes, sharing an innocent kiss here and there but now Lady Jessica felt like it was getting more and more often for you to share affections. And she felt bad for suspecting a weirdly sexual energy behind those acts but after some time she stopped feeling guilty as she realised something had been going on behind her back indeed.

One time she decided to follow her son who went straight to your chambers after the training. Her footsteps were light and quiet, she took her time and gave you an opportunity to develop the situation. She pressed her ear to the doors and heard soft moans, sweet praises. Even though she had been suspecting it, she still felt shocked and disgusted to find out the truth.

Your heart stopped in your chest as the doors were pushed open and you spotted Lady Jessica catching you kissing her son. His cheeks went crimson red in an instant.

“Mother…” He swallowed thickly, standing up and clasping his hands in front of himself, trying to hide his erection.

Lady Jessica was speechless. Her eyes widened at first and then they squinted as she laid them on you.

“You little witch,” she hissed at you. “You twisted, evil minx. What have you done?”

“Me?” You acted innocent but you couldn’t hide a smirk.

Yes, it was scary to be found out. But it gave you satisfaction that she now was aware of how you had spoiled her sweet, precious son.

“Mother, don’t blame her!” Paul sweetly defended you, he was truly adorable. But he was ignored by the both of you. It was between you and her. He was only a tool.

“Have you got any idea what you’ve done?” Lady Jessica asked you harshly.

“What about it?” You asked and clenched your jaw.

What was the worst punishment anyway? You realised suddenly that even being sent away wouldn’t be so bad… The victory of spoiling Paul was the most delicious part of this situation.

“I will not tell your father,” Lady Jessica approached you to put her hands on Paul’s arms to walk him away gently. “For his own sake. He would be devastated. But this will be over. You better start packing,” she gave you a contemptuous look.

“Mother, no!” Paul pleaded. “I love her, I do. Can’t I marry (Y/N)? That’s what our ancestors were doing, why can’t we?”

You chuckled at him. He was so sweetly naive. Lady Jessica slapped his face.

“Stop talking nonsense!” She pushed him out of the room and then gave you one last look. “You look proud of yourself for bewitching my son. I’ll make sure you’ll pay for that.”

“And you’re not proud of bewitching my father?” You asked.

“I will send you to the Harkonnens, you spoiled brat. Their rot matches yours. But good luck with bewitching any of them,” she threatened.

The mention of the Harkonnens made you scared indeed. But you didn’t want to show it. Not in front of her.

But she was right. Wrapping Paul around your finger had been easy. Too easy. Doing the same to a Harkonnen would not.

However, you decided to keep your head high. You would never show fear or defeat in front of Lady Jessica.

Because of Lady Jessica’s words, you treated the marriage with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen like a challenge. With many attempts, you finally managed to tame him and it was your biggest pride.

Now you laughed at the memory of how proud you had been for spoiling Paul. It had been meaningless and too easy. Taming Feyd-Rautha to be your pet made you feel invincible.

Paul had been so naive and innocent that in the beginning of your marriage, he had still been sending you secret letters about his love and devotion. The news of his death had been nearly relieving – there would be no more pathetic, desperate letters, you had thought, while burning the last one.

Your husband knew about your past. Feyd-Rautha loved everything sick, twisted and rotten to the core. You had told him about Paul to impress him and it had worked. You had even allowed him to read some of the letters from Paul before burning them.

Finding out that Paul was alive after all, and he had gained power on Arrakis that you and your husband could only dream of, felt like a punch. You could see a switch in Feyd’s behaviour while you waited for the confrontation. He was observing you quietly and battling with his own thoughts. Feyd-Rautha had never been insecure before. But now he had a feeling you might still feel attraction to Paul Atreides. Especially now, when Paul was a powerful leader, too. After all, what spurred you on the most was power and influence.

What would Paul do seeing you again? You both wondered silently, without sharing your thoughts with each other. Would he want you back or would he toss you aside? Feyd feared that Paul still wanted you. You hoped he would. It would provide you safety no matter what outcome of that day would be.

Not that you didn’t love Feyd-Rautha. In the process of taming him, you had found yourself enamoured with him. You were two halves of the same rotten apple. But the most important thing for you was your own survival. Your own and the child’s under your heart.

The guards took you and other prisoners of the Arrakeen Palace to see the mysterious Muad’Dib but you all had already known who he truly was. The Reverend Mother, Princess Irulan and you – all the women amongst the prisoners – had known it for sure that the brave Fremen leader had to be an Atreides. You shared a connection with Paul, you were of the same father, the same surname, the same blood, the same flesh… Each other’s first lovers.

He looked different now; more mature. His hair was longer and curly instead of being neatly combed. His eyes were harsher and blue from the spice. You were nearly petrified at the sight of him because he… He looked handsome and attractive. You suddenly remembered all the shared kisses and affections and it made your cheeks burn.

“There you are, sweet sister,” Paul’s eyes sparkled at the sight of you. “I’ve been missing you,” he pointed out but you could spot harsh irony in his words.

From the corner of your eye you spotted Lady Jessica. Her power and influence had grown as well those past few months. She was a local Reverend Mother with her face covered under veils, chains and tattoos. She looked like the most intimidating and the most powerful person in the room. She probably was, even though you were standing next to The Emperor himself.

Lady Jessica had to already turn Paul against you. She had to tell him that you had been doing nothing but manipulating him for your own gain. You suddenly realised that you were in deep trouble and you instinctively searched for Feyd-Rautha’s hand to squeeze it. He was your husband, the father of your child, your perfect match made in hell. You had to keep him close, stay with him. Paul was never an option after all. He had been nothing but a game.

“Brother,” you greeted Paul with a nod of your head. “I thought you were dead.”

“You hoped,” Paul fixed you with a smirk.

“No,” you only answered.

“Come here,” he ordered. You felt the eyes of everyone watching intensely, wondering what was really going on. After all, the only people who knew about your unusual connection were Lady Jessica and Feyd-Rautha. Although you were suspecting that the Reverend Mother knew, too.

Feyd’s hand squeezed tighter around yours. He didn’t want you to leave his side. Walking up to Paul meant exposing yourself, you could be easily harmed. And it was not only about you at the moment. You were carrying the Harkonnen heir. The future Baron was growing under your heart.

“Come here,” Paul repeated the order, more harshly now. You let go of Feyd’s hand and walked away, feeling him move uncomfortably. However, he granted you personal freedom to make your own choices. He only watched carefully, like a guard dog that he was.

“I am here, brother,” you announced, standing right in front of Paul, facing him bravely. One of your hands rested on your abdomen.

“I am wiser now,” he told you. “I know that your intentions with me were never pure nor driven by your uncontrollable desires. You planned it all. Calculated.”

You remained silent, keeping your head high. You only heard the whispers of other people, wondering between each other what the conversation was about.

“And despite that knowledge, I must admit, I remain infatuated,” he confessed. “But you’re spoiled for me now. Your stench is one of the Harkonnens.”

“For I am a Harkonnen,” you nodded.

“Apparently, so am I,” he raised an eyebrow and you furrowed yours.

“How is that so?”

“The Baron… The late Baron,” Paul explained. “The one your husband slayed last night. He was my mother’s father.”

Everyone went silent. Those were two secrets that he had revealed – you didn’t want people to know that it was Feyd killing his uncle.

“You might have the Harkonnen blood flowing in your veins, dear brother, but you are no Harkonnen. You’re weak like an Atreides,” you spat out.

“Me? You, dear sister, you are weak. All your power, all your successes, they all only come from the men you have managed to wrap around your pretty little fingers. But you have achieved nothing yourself,” Paul’s jaw clenched as he reminded you with hatred burning through his eyes. “The only thing you actually did was to open your legs for the Harkonnen and carry his spawn,” Paul looked down at your womb with contempt.

There was so much jealousy in him, you spotted. He was not angry at you for manipulating him. He was angry at you for carrying another man’s child. And there was nothing more dangerous than a rejected lover.

Paul grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away, exposing your swollen abdomen.

“You cannot touch her,” Feyd barked and Paul looked up behind your shoulder to meet your husband’s gaze.

“There he is, my sister’s new pet,” Paul’s words were braver than you expected. No one would dare to speak to Feyd-Rautha like that.

“It’s a nasty thing to be jealous,” your husband spoke. “You see, she is my wife, she lays with me every night. You are nothing but a tossed aside toy who has only been given a taste but never a full meal.”

Paul was right, you suddenly realised. That you held no real power, that it only came from the men you had associated yourself with. Because now they were talking about you as if you were an object.

“Are we here to witness some wicked family drama? Spare me that,” The Emperor’s voice made you all turn your heads to look at him. He was disgusted and annoyed.

“You are here to pay for what you’ve done to our father,” Paul left your side to approach The Emperor and you took the opportunity to hurry back to Feyd. You stood behind him, clinged to his muscular arm, feeling protected by his strong, armoured body.

“Stop your pathetic show, Atreides,” The Emperor smirked. “There is a massed armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion.”

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me? They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” Paul asked him. “I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis!”

“He’s a fraud,” Feyd chuckled ironically. “My wife is the Duchess Atreides, I am the Governor of this world.”

“And so it is,” The Emperor nodded. “You’re nothing but a Fremen terrorist.”

“Gurney,” Paul called out the name you recognised. But when you looked at the man, he had no love nor sympathy in his eyes for you. So, you showed none as well.

“My Lord,” Gurney nodded at your brother.

“Send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all the spice fields,” Paul threatened. 

He was a madman now, you thought as Gurney nodded.

“You’re out of your mind,” The Emperor pointed out what everyone was thinking,

“He’s bluffing,” your husband spoke up as you clinged to his arm even tighter. You had a feeling already how this confrontation would end up like. It was either you and Feyd or Paul. There was no other way. And Paul’s behaviour was worrying. You were starting to suspect he had higher chances of winning than you had been predicting.

He wouldn’t kill you. He still cared for you, perhaps he still craved you. He would never be nice to you, but he’d keep you close, of that you were sure. But he would never let your husband or your child live. And that was the moment when you realised that you didn’t only care about your own self.

You cared about Feyd and you cared about your son. Way more than about your life. You’d rather die alongside them than live a few more decades alongside your brother without them.

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides,” The Reverend Mother warned him.

“Silence!” Paul screamed, using The Voice, startling everyone in the process.

It was no secret that this ability was reserved only for the Bene Gesserit. For the women of the order. A man possessing this knowledge was not only dangerous but also extremely powerful.

You were doomed, you thought, covering your abdomen with one of your hands again. Your unborn son was your only hope. The Reverend Mother had mentioned before that he was out of control. The Harkonnen medics had outdone themselves with their genetic manipulations while helping you to create life. His abilities could interfere with Paul’s.

But it was only an unborn baby with its brain not even yet fully developed. You couldn’t possibly count on him to save you. Right?

“Abomination,” The Reverend Mother muttered to herself.

“Message sent, my Lord,” Gurney announced.

“On what authority was this message sent?” You spoke up again, finally gaining the courage although it was easy to do so when you were still hiding behind Feyd. “I am the Duchess Atreides. The leaders of the Great Houses know that, too. They will not listen to the threats of terrorists!”

“As a servant of the Imperium, you will bow at my feet!” The Emperor snapped. Paul’s behaviour was getting out of control.

“Your feet?! You’ll be lucky to keep your head!” Paul yelled at him and walked up to all of you as he took a contemptuous look at Princess Irulan. “I’ll take the hand of your daughter,” he announced and you swallowed thickly at his plan.

So… He did not want to marry you anymore. Perhaps you wouldn’t be as safe as you had suspected before.

“She will remain safe,” Paul’s voice softened as he spoke. “And we will rule together over The Empire. But you…” he looked at The Emperor again. “You have to answer for my father.”

“Do you know why I killed him?” The Emperor squinted his eyes and despite feeling very detached from your family those past few months, you felt a little sting in your heart at the mention of your father.

You realised that now you were standing by the side of a man who was responsible for his death. What a twisted world you lived in. And what twisted things you had been forced to do to survive.

The Emperor approached Paul now as well, they were facing each other and you had to admit that despite his age, he was a brave man to do that. Everyone claimed he was not in his best shape anymore and that was true but the strength of his mind and spirit was still visible.

“Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule,” The Emperor explained. “In other words… your father was a weak man.”

You had this conversation before. With the Baron Harkonnen. Late Baron Harkonnen, you remembered. Now your husband was bearing the title. But yes, a few months earlier, in a dark room, you had this conversation with the Baron. You had agreed with him then. And despite the pain in Paul’s eyes, you had a feeling he was agreeing with this, too.

And Paul agreeing with such a statement could only mean that he no longer wanted to play nice. He had discarded your father’s ways and chose the path of violence.

“You will be defeated and your Empire will be mine,” Paul drawled out through gritted teeth before laying his eyes on you and Feyd. “And the cancer of this Empire that is The Harkonnen dynasty will be erased,” he added. “I will tear your spawn out of her body and take your wife as my concubine,” he told your husband. You felt his muscles tensing.

“The only thing you take, will be your death at the end of my blade,” Feyd warned him and took a step ahead, ignoring the way you were clutching onto his arm, trying to make him stay.

“You don’t even have one on you,” Paul pointed out.

“Then spare me a weapon and stand to fight me like a man,” Feyd dared him.

“Accept mine,” The Emperor offered and you stiffened at the realisation that it was not only the blade he was giving your husband but also the fate of the outcome of this day, the fate of the Empire, the fate of his and his daughter’s life. Feyd nodded and you approached him one last time before the duel.

“Do not fail me,” you pleaded harshly.

“You want these to be the last words you tell your husband before his death?” Feyd teased with a smirk. Fearless as usual; he never feared the end of his life. Not in combat at least. He had told you already that this sort of death was everything he had been wishing for. To die like a warrior.

“No,” you shook your head with a nervous smile. “So make sure they won’t be.”

MASTERLIST

[kamii-2]

NEED A KK SMUT

maybe angst to smut 😳😳

love angst more then life sorry😩😩

ICE TOOOO

I LOVE UR WORK NEED EVERY THING TBH

HI ANON, ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE !!! also sorry if it’s not how you wanted it and i will make a ice smut for you eventually 🫡 AND THANK YOUUUUU 💋💋

warning(s): cussing, smut, fingering, making out, eating out, all the outs (jk), strap (first time writing smut with a strap), edging, etc.

genre: jealousy (idk what to call it) & smut

pairing(s): jealous!kk arnold x fem!reader

not proofread 💦

==================================

kk dragged you out of your bed to come to the party just for her to leave you on the couch in the corner of the room by yourself, people would come over every so often and say hi but that was it.

you were bored so you decided next person to come over that wasn’t kk’s friend you would flirt with them or something to make her jealous. luckily the next person to walk up was your friend, she sat down next to you and started to talk about some funny stuff that just happened. you felt kk staring at you so you cut your friend off to say “im trying to make kk jealous fake flirt with me please.” you whisper in her ear. she nods then puts her hand on your thigh and starts playing with your hair continuing to talk to you.

kk was getting more and more jealous the longer she watched it happen. your friend had started to caress your arms and get really close to your neck and whisper things, kk was thinking the worst but in reality your friend was just talking about how mad kk is gonna be. kk’s last straw was when your friend put her hand on your chest, close to your neck and whispered in your ear, you giggled and put you hand on her thigh. when kk seen this she left her friends without saying anything and walked over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you away. you look back and your friend and mouthed ‘thank you’ and winked.

“i don’t know who you think you are doing all of that but you need to stop” she warned as she dragged you past her friends and to her car. “what did i do?” you acted confused and tried to hold back a smirk, she glanced over at you and tightened her grip on your hand, “you know what you did bro, stop playing.”

the way she was talking to you and holding your hand made you wet, you knew that she was gonna fuck the life out of you when you got home. when you reached the car she opened the door for you and closed it when you got in. she got in and started the car. you were admiring her as she started to drive, her dreads were in a half up half down type style, her eyebrows were furrowed, he hands were gripping the steering wheel, she looked so hot. her right hand left the steering wheel and moved to your thigh, moving up and down.

her hand was getting closer and closer to your wet pussy, the closer she got the wetter you got. her hand was now under your black skintight dress, she pushed it farther up your thighs and tapped your thigh for consent, even though she’s mad and wanted to fuck you till you were brain dead she still asked just in case you decided you didn’t wanna fuck anymore, you put your hand on hers signaling a yes. she moved your panties to the side and dipped her fingers in you, you threw your head back and moaned. you scooted forward on your seat so she could have better access. she pushed her fingers in and out fast, driving with her other hand. “holy fuck.” you moaned as you were about to finish already. just as you were about to release she removed her fingers, wiping them on your dress and continuing to drive as if nothing happened.

“why’d you do that?” you asked her as you turned your head to face her, “because i can.” she said as you guys pulled into your apartment parking lot. you got out of the car before she could go over and open the door. you grabbed your keys and phone from the cup holder and walked into the apartment building and straight to the elevator with kk following right behind you. you pressed your floor and waited for the elevator doors to close before kk pushed you against the wall and kissed you, one hand on your throat, the other grabbing your boob, she tried to shove her tongue in your mouth but you didn’t let her because the door was about to open. you pulled away and gave her one last kiss before you guys headed to your apartment, as you were unlocking the door kk was caressing your hips and ass, giving it a slap or squeeze.

when you opened the door kk took her shoes off before dragging you to your bedroom, you had one heel on and the other was off on the floor but kk didn’t care.

she pulled you in and pinned you by your hips against the door, she kissed you again and successfully shoved her tongue in your mouth this time. she lifted up your dress again and took off your panties, she dropped to her knees and put her hands under your things and lifted you up against the door and started to eat you out like you were her last meal. you were moaning so loudly and so much that you knew your voice was gonna be gone tomorrow.

she sucked on your clit harshly and kissed it. your legs had started to shake and she put one of your legs on her shoulder and held the other, using her free hand to finger fuck you. this sent you over the edge and cummed all over her fingers, she pulled them out and sucked them clean before she got up from under you and dragged you to the bed, you sat down trying to catch your breath. she grabbed the strap from on your closet floor and took off her shirt and pants, leaving her boxers and sports bra on. she slipped the strap on and walked over to you.

she pushed you back gently and grabbed your hips and lined herself up with your entrance. she purposely pushed in slowly and the further she pushed, the louder you got. “kk, oh, please go faster. i’ll do anything please.” you begged. she listened and went as fast as she could with no warning. you were a moaning mess, the wetness from earlier was spilling out of you onto the strap the more she thrusted. you were so close to cumming after such a short amount of time. “oh, fuck kk, i’m about to cum.” you said.

she somehow manages to go faster than she already was, “hold it.” she demanded. “i can’t.” you cried out, with tears on your face. she rubbed your clit and it sent you over the edge, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

the overwhelming amount of pleasure made you squirt all on kk’s stomach. she was smiling as she helped you ride out your high. “well, just found out i can turn you into a water fountain off of a fake dick and my hand.” she taunted you as she pulled out. “shut up.” you said with a smirk as you sat up.

kk cleaned herself and you up and you guys went and cuddled and watched movies. kk was staring at you, “what?” you asked her. “you look so gorgeous.” she said while glancing down at your lips. you smiled, “thank you, you too.” you gave her a kiss on the lips then gave her multiple all over her face.

==================================

hey guysssssi hope you enjoyed!! anyway i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[laylay5670]

Agent x reader

Warning: most likely cringing and bad writing

Title: “Spoiling My Girl… Because She Deserves It 🖤 (LIVE)”

The stream started with Agent00 in the passenger seat of a G-Wagon, holding his phone toward himself with a grin.

The camera panned over to Y/N, sitting in the driver’s seat with sunglasses on, a glossy nude lip, and that flirty little smirk that had the chat blowing up.

“You’re really letting me go wild?” she asked, teasing.“You deserve it,” he said seriously. “I don’t say it enough, but you hold me down. And I don’t care if we blow a bag today — you’re worth way more than anything in the store.”

Chat:

“AGENT BEING A SIMP I LOVE IT 😭😭”

“this is the energy we all need.”

“marry her bro fr”

Stop 1 mall:

They hit up all the hot spots: Zara, Sephora, Aritzia. Y/N walked around with Agent’s black card in her back pocket while he carried her bags like a true king.

At one point in Sephora, she turned to him with two lip glosses. “Which one should I get?”He didn’t even look at the shades. “Both.”

“Agent—”

“Both, N/N. Come on now.”

Chat:

“he said don’t play with him 😭”

“ultimate green flag behavior.”

Stop 2: Designer Store

She walked in hesitantly, fingers brushing the price tags on heels and purses.“You sure?” she whispered, feeling the weight of the price tags.

He leaned close, lips brushing her ear. “Don’t ever second guess your worth, baby. Grab what you like.”She ended up picking a soft blush-colored bag and Agent paid without blinking.Then he kissed her forehead on the way out, whispering, “You look so good with it. Might have to take it off later, though.”

She turned bright red while chat exploded.

Chat:

“AGENT 😳 this a FAMILY stream bro”

“y’all better not cut that 😭”

Stop 3: random toy store.

They were walking past a quirky toy store when Y/N paused.

Inside the window, sat a giant Hello Kitty plush — almost as big as her, bubblegum pink with a gold bow and sparkly eyes.Agent followed her gaze. “You want it?”

She blushed. “No, it’s $300. That’s ridiculous.”He was already walking inside.

“Agent, no!” she laughed, chasing after him.

“Babe, you let me take up half your closet, put up with my late-night streams, and STILL love me? You get the Hello Kitty.”

She tried to stop him. “That’s not the point, I don’t need it—”He turned, gently cupping her face. “I know. But you deserve things just because. Not ‘cause you earned it. Just because I love you.”Her eyes went wide, lips parting.“You love me?” she said softly. He smiled — all heart.

“Of course I do.”

Then he kissed her right there, in the middle of the store, with the giant Hello Kitty plush between them.

Chat:

“I’M SOBBINGGGG 😭😭😭😭”

“they’re like a romcom but real”

“HELLO KITTY GOT THE LOVE CONFESSION Y’ALL.”

Back home now

They collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by shopping bags and leftover snacks. Y/N laid her head on his chest, holding the Hello Kitty like a toddler. He played with her hair, letting chat roll for a few more minutes.

“Thank y’all for watching,” he said, voice a little softer than usual. “Sometimes, you gotta step back from the grind and just show your person they matter. And this girl right here…”

He looked down at her. She was already looking up at him.

“…she’s my peace.”

She smiled, kissed his chin, and whispered, “You’re mine, too.”

Chat:

“THEY NEED A JOINT CHANNEL IDC.”

“get married already.”

“best stream of the year hands down.”

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!!! CAN ALWAYS SEND REQUESTS