#I’m giving my babies the life they deserve

[ordinarypersoninthisworld]

What have women done ?

Nicholas Fuentes just reminded us all that women are nothing for men.

Your body my choice. I don’t get it. I simply don’t.

What have we done ? What have we done to get century’s of oppression, repression ? What have we done to get raped ? What have we done to get looked down ? What have we done ?

The thing I believe is, if men never needed women we would simply have been exterminated by now. Because how would you explain the oppression, and everything else we endured for centuries?

Nicholas Fuentes mother’s must be so disappointed. Every rapists, pedophile etc mothers must be so disappointed. It’s not your fault unless you taught him those stuff.

Abortion is my right. I’m not ready I get rid of the cell. I don’t have the money I get rid of it. It’s my rapists baby, I’ll have no remorse. You can kill a cell up to 3 months, otherwise the baby gain consciousness. So instead of forbidding it, make a deadline.

Oh and if you ban abortion then the father cannot leave under any circumstances. It’s his baby too and he put his semen into me I didn’t specifically ask for it. If it’s a rapist’s baby then I have the right to give it up for adoption. I didn’t ask for that baby nor do I want to remember for the rest of my life that I got raped. But if I got raped and have his baby you need to either leave it up to him with obligation or put him in jail. So don’t surprise when so much babies are gonna be found abandoned.

All the things that happens to innocent women all over the world just because they are women is the most vile thing in the existence.

Look, in Afghanistan a new law passed. Women cannot talk between themselves. Women lost their voices. Literally. They have to fully cover themselves EVEN the eyes! Yes normally you can show your eyes well they can’t. Why women ? We haven’t done nothing. We haven’t killed no one.

In Japan the sexual assault is so big than the worst tortured in the human existence happened to a girl getting tortured, raped, sexually assaulted and cruelly abused. She just said no. She said no to go out with a guy. You can say no. Every woman would say no if they don’t know you or just don’t want to. You can reject girls but we can’t ? We can’t because we might get tortured and killed ? A woman had sex with a man and when it comes to preliminary, the guy tortured her: he shoved his hand so far he reached her organs and pulled them out of her body. She was still alive. Do you imagine just the slightest bit of terror and absolute pain she must have been in ? Why did he do that? Well she was a woman. A girl got gang raped in India. Why ? She was a little girl. A man raped his daughter more than 200 times got almost no sentences and kept the guard. Why ? She was a girl.

Girls are forced to marry when they have their period, the youngest being 9 in 2024. 9. Let girls be girls. They don’t have to get married to an old sick man. They don’t want to get pregnant, they don’t want to carry babies, they don’t want to have sex, they don’t want to be tied for eternity.

They want to grow up at their pace, they want to experience childhood and believes in unicorns.

Men are not dogs. Because dogs would never do that to you. Men are men. Men are vile, men are repulsive men scared me.

I’m scared of everything. I’m scared when I go to my school, I’m scared when I take the bus I’m scared when I refuse someone on instagram or Snapchat I’m scared when I’m out I’m scared of having a boyfriend I’m scared of having my first time I’m scared of saying no to a man I’m scared of getting assaulted and I’m utterly scared of getting raped. Because I’ll rather die.

My women are scared to. My sisters are scared of you. But my sisters are ready to fight to.

Iranian women are doing it. Keep it up girls, you deserve respect, recognition and rights to.

In Afghanistan, nobody is doing anything. Why ? Because they are women. Let’s be honest, if roles were reversed and it was done to men, many presidents would have done something. I’m scared for them.

In Somalia,(And many other countries still) families practice what’s called Female genital Mutilation (for boys it’s circumscribed ) on little girls. More than 200 million women in the world are victims of those tortures. What’s so different ? Why is it not called mutilated for boys ? It’s simple do the maths. We have holes, Which apparently throughout the humans history was enough to make us lesser bumans.

You can’t retire anything on a man penis except for the skin at the end to prevent them from masturbating.

Well for a woman, you can. But it’s recognized internationally as inhuman and a violation of women rights and health as well as entraining so much complications that a lot of young girls die. It’s usually do with a razor blade that is not sanitary and the women aren’t put in sleep. They cut the clitoris. They retire it. Or they cut the interior lips as well and retire them. Oh and the exterior lips are cut. And then they sew. They sew the holes. If you wanna know what it is google is here.

This is the most intense pain a woman can experience. The genitals parts on both women and men are the most sensitive and endangering parts if someone is of bad intentions.

https://youtu.be/kFpOHYQlz24?si=7i5eKJdbRFdShEkL

Here is a strong woman sharing her story about her experience.

Let’s get back to something softer. Beauty standards.

I don’t know about you reading this but I don’t seem to know of any particular men beauty standards. They don’t have to comform to a certain nose (most of the time) or certain eye shapes and lips.

I guess they are but men are good to create insecurities and unrealistic beauty standards for women. Furthermore there is the whole hourglass body stuff and petite women.

First I think petite women especially used by men is a way of infantilizing a woman to make her look innocent etc and unless you have a fast metabolism or surgery most of the women don’t have a hourglass body. I have a slow metabolism and sports does not work for me. Yet I’m a mid size girl with a fat tummy. I can’t wear crop tops nor any clothes I like because y’all decided I had to look a certain way for that. I have broad shoulder and wide rib cage so im not considered feminine enough. Well fuck you. I’m a woman that’s enough. Some girls are bigger than me and are confident and I envy you and support you so bad. Some girls are thinner than the norm and yet are such pure souls. Some girls are curvy and hate their bodies so bad. And some girls have the perfect body yet would like some more skin. We can never be happy with our body that is the same for everyone. Yet we accept men as they are most of the time. We normalized having a dad body yet when it comes to a woman you can’t have tummy. If you have a dad body that’s okay girl don’t mind but if you have a mom body because guess what you just had a baby . or multiple and have an injury the size of a rounded pillow inside of you you are ugly. You need to get thin you need to have big boobs no stretch marks ! You can’t look like you had a kid because that’s not attractive. Bullshit. You can’t expect a woman to lose weight after having a baby.

Oh and for fucks sake women you don’t have to reserved yourself from a burger. You want to eat it ? Eat it. We don’t care about what men think they eat 3x times the burger!

Plus The mere idea of having a type is just stupid. and if women said they want a certain type that are not the men watching the vids you can expect them to say something like: well we don’t want fat women/ we don’t want full face etc. Like shut up she’s not gonna date you nor are you even gonna meet her in real lifeYou fall in love with personality. And no looks does not matter despite what everybody is trying to say because personality makes you 10x prettier than you are. If you have a shit personality people will avoid you like the plague but if you are nice kind smart etc they tend to find you attractive and prettier than what you already are.

That was a rant about everything I had in mind and probably have A lot of misspelling and mistakes. But I just watch Nicholas Fuentes that little bitch and I hope he gets so injured he’ll get alzeihmer so that someone can re-educate him because he doesn’t seem to respect his mother and every women in his life.

Remember it’s not all men but it’s always a man.

[deanvhs]

cruising — dean winchester

content / you and dean get in a fight when she starts getting angry for no reason.

warnings / transfem!dean winchester, internalised homophobia, John hates his kids, angst, implied smut.

“C’mon, De.” You frown, moving closer on the bed. Sam was out getting dinner so you and Dean had the motel room all to yourselves. You even kissed Sam’s cheek goodbye to ask him if he can take Baby out for a few spins. Thankfully he agreed, but now Dean’s rejecting your advances. Since when?

“No! I already told you, the walls are too damn thin in here.” Your patience is running thin. Seriously since when does the infamous Dean Winchester care about the staff knocking your door? Or some angry neighbors? Dean once fucked you in the Imapala on a highway, you’re not sure that’s the real reason.

“You’re lying to me, honey.” Her face visibly softens at your words but she stands up anyways, taking off her jacket. You’d all got back from the successful hunt hours ago and showered but somehow Dean had wrapped herself in Sam’s jacket the second she came out of the shower. It was confusing now that she’s taking it off. This whole thing was confusing. 

“Dean, look, I’m not pressuring you or anything, but you’re lying to me. You love post-hunt sex. You’re the one who always initiates it too so I thought I’d give you a surprise, you know? But if it isn’t what you want, I understand—”

“It’s not like that!” You’re waiting for her to elaborate and when she doesn’t, you sigh. Great, you’re both getting nowhere in this conversation. “I’m going out.” She mumbles before walking out of the motel room and slamming the door behind her. 

Another very stable, very productive conversation in the Winchester household. You tie your hair back and put a coat on before running out after her. Baby isn’t anywhere near here so the only other place she’d be is the vending machine. It’s kind of like trying to find a twelve year old in an arcade. 

There she is, in all her glory, frowning at the vending machine like it’s personally offended her (you’re sure all it did was its job, but oh well). “Hey, Dee.” You sigh into the space between you when you’re close enough to touch her biceps, interlocking your arm in hers. ”you okay?”

“‘M fuckin’ peachy.”

“What you are is mean.” You scoff, but it’s only half hearted. You want to help her, not blame her. “And you’re also a big liar who won’t tell me what’s wrong so I can make it better.”

“You’re not my damn guardian, you don’t need to know—”

“Please, Dean.” You exhale, tired. “Just humor me.”

She seems to have finally given up on her quest to be unbearing. “Whatever. You just— I don’t want to have sex, okay?”

“Totally understandable, can I know why? I won’t try to change your mind, I would just like to know the reason.”

She rolls her eyes, hits the vending machine one more time so a chocolate bar drops down along with your favorite juice box. When you’re twenty something, you learn to enjoy the finer things in life like juice boxes and chocolates rather than beer and whatever the hell else.

She leans down to grab them, hands you yours. You thank her with a kiss on her arm. “Baby.” It comes out like a plea more than a warning. 

“You do this thing.” She mumbles, looking down at her chocolate bar to open it. Your heart clenched before she could even keep going, an ugly emotion tugging on your chest. You do this thing? 

Sure, you’re new to the whole relationship thing as a hunter and especially with Dean. Dean’s… not what you expected at all when you first saw her. You didn’t even know she was a her until very very later on. Even Sam found out later than you. She somehow feels like she doesn’t deserve to be called that, like her dad would kill her and if he wouldn’t approve she can’t possibly do it behind his back. 

But John can go fuck himself for all you care (he’s dead anyways so it isn’t like he can object), you love Dean. She deserves everything in this world and the next— she fucking died for her brother, it’s unreal that she would think she doesn’t deserve the simple act of being who she truly is.

“Hey? Hey, you with me? Sweetheart?” You focus back on Dean with a small pout you didn’t notice was on your face till now. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Oh, uh, you just say this thing— you call me something and I don’t know, just don’t think—”

“Dean, if I have ever made you uncomfortable during sex you have to tell me. I can’t believe you’d ever keep that from me.” Dean’s a pretty soft lover, you’d learned quickly, while she does enjoy to get with every woman she laid eyes on before she had you, she isn’t rough with them, she’ll make sure they’re ready first, very giving, and take her time. 

You can’t possibly think of anything you’d do to make her not want to sleep with you… you’re pretty sure you’re the first person in her life she’s ever been fully transparent with and you thought that’s a good thing, you thought you handled it pretty well, but maybe you were wrong.

She clears her throat, still not looking you in the eye, the wrappers off the chocolate but it’s clear she’s using it as a distraction, “you, uh, call me stuff. Stuff like, i don't know, pretty girl or whatever.”

Oh.

“Oh. I’m—” God, you feel like an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot for ever assuming she’d be okay with pet names. She’s just as new to this as you are, you’re the first person she’s ever expressed herself with and you’re ruining it for her. You need air. Even if you’re outside— fuck. “Dean, I’m sorry, I had no idea you didn’t like it and you should’ve told me the first time!” Though, you’d only slept together a handful of times since she’s come out to you, “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable and I’m so sorry I did—”

Her face contorts as she shakes her head, waving her hand around, “‘s fine.” She dismisses and you can practically feel how red your cheeks are with shame. So fucking stupid. For embarrassing her. For making the one thing she always made sure was comfortable for you, unenjoyable for her. Dean won’t die without sex but she fucking loves it and, you ruined it for her. 

“Sorry, Dean.” You mutter again before turning around and running back to your room. This is all— way too much, is what is it. You can’t think properly with her standing right in front of you not looking you in the fucking eyes. She’s the Dean Winchester. Forget the sexy reputation, what about the hunter one?  She’s never acted like this before and now it’s because of you. 

She trusted you with the most important thing in her life, her identity, and you—

A loud, aggressive knock sounds on the door and your hand instantly hovers over your gun. It happens one more time before you have it aimed at the door, waiting for the intruder to come in, drying the tears that were welling up in your eyes. “Come in!”

“I would, don’t have the key though.” 

Oh, it’s Dean. You put the weapon back where it belongs (though you keep a hand on it in case you need it) before opening the door. “Hey, sweetheart.” She says sweetly, her smile kind of watery. Is that because of you too? Great. You’re doing real well in the girlfriend department.

“Hi, sorry, I totally forgot I had it.” 

“‘S fine, don’t worry about it.” She shuts the door behind her, her back against the wood as she looks down on you. You’re about to pull away from the whole interaction, say you’re tired or something, before she pulls you back in, both hands on your waist. “Hey, c’mon, it’s okay, we’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t, didn’t mean to make you think we weren’t. I’m just— disappointed in myself, I guess. And sad. You should’ve told me, I’ve said it a hundred time since you first came out and I didn’t even think of how it would affect you. You know how much I love calling you different things and I don’t know, I guess it slipped out and it was so selfish—”

“I love it.”

“What?”

“The names? Love them. All of them. Every single thing you call me makes me stop breathin’ for a second ‘cause I can’t believe how goddamn lucky I am to have you.” You're breathing’s not supposed to be this fast, right? “It makes me… God, makes me crazy thinkin’ of you saying those words but I can’t, sweetheart, okay? As much as I love ‘em, they’re not— me. They’re not who I am.”

“Because you don’t feel like that’s who you are or because of the whole ‘you don’t deserve’ them thing because I’m telling you now, if it’s the second one, I’m going to be really mad at you.” When she doesn’t respond, tightens her lips, you frown. “Dean, seriously?”

“Look—”

You don’t let her get the words in before you’re crashing your lips onto hers, your hands running through her hair while she kisses you back just as passionately, just as hard and wanting. She pushes off the door to slam you into it so she’s more in control, like she always is. “Dee,” you whisper into her lips and she pulls back with an urgent nod, all signs of hesitation erased from her eyes. “I love you.”

And maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, she’s not usually the type of girl and you know that, but she has to hear it. Has to hear it from you. “Love you so so much, dee. You know that, right?” She nods quickly like she wants the conversation to be over so she attaches her lips back onto yours before you pull away again.

“So tonight’s ‘bout you, pretty girl.” Her breath hitches and you see her eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you stand on your toes to kiss between them. “Baby, I’m not gonna let you keep thinking that crap. No one on earth deserves this more than you, okay? And if you feel uncomfortable, or you change your mind, sure, we’ll stop, but it sure as hell won’t be because of your screwed up perception of yourself.”

She nods, almost mezmorized and leans back in. Her soft lips against yours, so fucking beautiful and the way her fingers work delicately to remove your shirt, succeeding as she moves on to the bra straps. Despite the same hands hunting monsters and sometimes the devil himself, she’s so patient and soft with you, her little moans as your hand moves down to graze her clothes cock, her green orbs flashing you when she opens her eyes to tell you ‘bed’ as if you didn’t just say that you’re in change tonight.

Technically, you did say it’s about her, and if the way she likes it is by being in control, you don’t mind givin’ it to her one bit. As long as you get to praise her all the way through it. 

She kisses down your neck, biting down a little on your sensitive areas, earning moans that make you arch your back, mostly try for some friction. She smiles against your skin, moving further down till she gets to your bra, removes it completely and latches onto your nipple, “fuck, dee, yes. so pretty, so gorgeous for me, makin’ me feel good, ah!” She takes your other one between her fingers and you can’t help the sounds escaping you. She pulls away to tsk. 

“Keep quiet, sweetheart. Wasn’t jokin’ about those thin walls.” Unfortunately for you, by thin she means you can hear the teenage boy and his parents talking through the wall right behind you. So, it’s practically a closet door between the two rooms but you couldn’t care less. And she seems to only care to shut you up with her mouth.

Except she doesn’t. She comes back up, your skin itching with her sudden withdrawal. Before you can protest she has her thumb sit king your lips, “now, sweetheart, what’d I say?” 

“I need to be quiet.” She smirks down at you, nodding, waiting for you to continue, “‘nd I wasn’t quiet.”

“Mm,” she brushes her thumb against your lips one more time before she slips it past them, your teeth grazing it before she lays it flat on your tongue and your first instinct is to bring your hands up to her wrist, wrapping around it to keep her in place, and sucking. “Fuck, baby.”

She groans, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead then going back to your neck, pulling all kinds of pretty moans. 

+

Needless to say, the night turns out great, no thanks to her communication skills. And you tell her as much when you’re both relaxing on the bed after, you’re still catching your breath in her arms and she’s smiling down at you, plants one last kiss to your hair.

“You know this could’ve all been easily avoided if we’d just talked, right?” She huffs from above you and it’s quite painfully the most obvious reaction she’s ever had. Dean’s angry. Maybe not at this exact moment, and not burning red, but she is. She’s not comfortable in her own skin most of the time and it’s no longer because she hasn’t come out, it’s because she did. 

She did, she has people who love and support her and she can’t stand that. She thought the second she came out with you and her brother would flee the country and maybe boo at her, but the fact that you both stayed eats at her more than she’d ever admit— she feels like a fraud. A failure as an older sister— older brother. 

And what’s worse is that she knows she’s as transparent as glass with you, that you’re reading her every thought right now without even looking her in the face. “Dean, c’mon, honey, you can’t keep thinkin’ like this— or I mean, technically you can, free will and all, but I’d rather you not.” You don’t repeat the three words you want to so desperately say, you know she’s reached her quota on chick-flicks. “I’m gonna keep calling you these names because you like them. And because they make you feel like yourself and I simply do not care what you say after that.”

She has nothing to say anyways, just closes her eyes and rests her head on yours, hoping you’ll still be there in the morning.

difference for me between calling transfem Sam and Dean pretty girl and them freaking out is that Sam (as always) is self deprecating and doesn’t feel like she deserves that. She doesn’t feel pretty and she doesn’t feel like she deserves having someone she loves lying to her. For dean, although she’s pretty self deprecating herself, it’s mostly about John. Like most of where her trauma stems from, she can’t understand why the person she loves would ever say that to her knowing it’s not right and it’s unclean to be anything other than the biggest guy in the room. And sure she came out, and shes comfortable with you and Sam and maybe she’ll even tell cas one day, but she values her reputation above all because that’s what John taught her. Thanks for listening  to my Ted talk, please buy a cookie on your way out!!!

[theogbadbitch]

"Please…keep my child. I'm sorry for putting hands on you…that wasn't right. It was uncalled for…" The sky is blue during the day.

“They don't give a damn about you!" I’m tired of this nigga fr, all this damn hollering

“She's my only chance to have a family that I can keep with me if she makes it through. She'll live a long, long time Celeste…and I won't be alone anymore. I love you, and if I can keep a part of you around to cherish like the other family members I've lost…then she's worth fighting for." Want her to keep a baby that will probably kill her just because you want eternal family…

“Dark, steel blue rain clouds blotted out the sunlight, turning the sky a menacing shade of impending doom.” Now what the hell….

“She ran to her cousin to pull the thick, five-foot long chain off of Terry, but Father Mbenga grabbed her arms and yanked her away.” Its too much going on chile is this a damn dream (Terry deserves for putting his hands on celeste no shade)

“Father Mbenga threw her against the tabernacle and she spun around to claw his face with her nails. He choked her again, squeezing the life from her and the baby.” HELLO??????????????????

“Turning back to the entrance doors, Celeste's blood pressure dropped, and she passed out on the floor.” Chile I’m stressed

A.N.: Content Warning, Blood, Violence, Religious Imagery.

"By the Christians, it is written

That in the black Myrthian age

There existed an addiction to blood, blood, blood, blood

Drink it up, fifty years 'bout enough, time to come back

They want to call the bluff

Ok then, time to come back (what up)"

Sam Waymon & Clipping – "Blood of the Fang"

Celeste stood in the doorway of her bathroom, stupefied.

Terry's red-rimmed eyes held her planted there until her brain-fog lifted by digesting the words he spoke.

He wanted to keep their baby.

She groaned internally as her acceptance of the lexicon shift—fetus to baby—snagged a hold in her heart and mind. Had he been a human and said those words, she would've shouted with joy and hugged him. Instead, she glimpsed the fangs in his parted lips, noticed how the lateral incisors of his bottom teeth were sharp, too.

Beastly.

That's how he appeared standing there, blocking her path out of the bathroom. Is that what their child would look like? A ferocious creature preying on people?

Terry's eyes darted from her face, and he took a deep breath. When he spoke to her again, his fangs retracted. The illusion had forever been broken. She could never see him as a human again.

"Please…keep my child. I'm sorry for putting hands on you…that wasn't right. It was uncalled for…I reacted blindly to Abai being here."

"They said they'd be waiting for you if you showed up again. They had a message for you, too. You can't hide from them forever."

"Pack some things. You're coming with me," he said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Terry gripped her arms tight.

"Do you want to be here at nightfall when a deadly vampire clan shows up looking for me? Huh? They probably have one of their human familiars watching this house right now, ready to contact them because they've seen my face."

"They said they would protect me and the baby—"

"They don't give a damn about you!"

His voice reverberated in a tone not human. Celeste's eyes watered with fear. Terry stroked her arms gently and pressed his forehead against hers.

"You are carrying something they have been dreaming about for centuries. Our baby is their bargaining chip for something your human mind can't even conceive. If this child can go full term and be born…they will have no further use for you."

"If this child goes full term? You don't think she can?"

"No human woman has ever carried a damphir. There's no telling if your body will reject the foreign vampire genes along the way. I am a Daywalker, a vampire of the rarest kind. That means our child will be one, too. They will use her and kill you."

His eyes told no lies.

"Why do you want me to keep her? You make it sound like her life is beyond danger. Why would you want to bring a child into the world to face harm? Hmm? Why risk my life?"

Terry's eyes watered.

"She's my only chance to have a family that I can keep with me if she makes it through. She'll live a long, long time Celeste…and I won't be alone anymore. I love you, and if I can keep a part of you around to cherish like the other family members I've lost…then she's worth fighting for."

"What about me, Terry? Will you throw me away once you have what you want?"

"I want you both," he pleaded.

Celeste's eyes welled up. The pain and yearning in his voice weakened her. He cradled her face.

"I have to hide you in a safe place."

"Where will we go?"

"I need to get you to Mémé's place."

"We should take all of her things with us then."

"Go pack a few days' worth of clothes. I'll put her stuff in my truck bed. It has a retractable cover over it. Hurry!"

"Her boxes are in my sewing room, and some of her papers are on my desk in there."

Terry went to retrieve his great-great-granddaughter's belongings, and she ran into her bedroom and threw clothes and underwear into a small travel suitcase. She dumped toiletries from the bathroom into a plastic baggie and froze when the doorbell rang. It was only five thirty in the evening. The sun didn't set completely until seven thirty.

"Answer it," Terry said.

He stayed near her bookshelf.

Celeste held her breath. She made out the figure behind the colored glass and sighed.

"Micah," she said.

She opened the door, and her relief poured out in a nervous laugh. Micah stared at her with concern.

"I came to check on you. Took the night off instead of wondering if you were okay."

Terry came from behind her and Micah's face grew tense.

"The clouds…" Terry said.

He opened the security door and stepped past Micah. Celeste looked up at the sky the way Terry did.

Dark, steel blue rain clouds blotted out the sunlight, turning the sky a menacing shade of impending doom.

"Ohmigod," Celeste said.

Micah tilted his head to look at them.

Streaks of lightning appeared like white spider veins flashing across the sky. A flock of unknown black birds flew in the sky within a giant circle.

"It's too late. The sun is hidden. I can't get you far enough away without them tracking us," Terry said.

He ran back into the house and grabbed Miss Irma's boxes. Celeste grabbed her suitcase.

"What's going on? Where are you going?" Micah asked, grabbing her hand.

"I can't explain. I'll call you if I can," she said.

Micah squeezed her hand.

"Duchess…tell me. The truth."

Terry carried two boxes at a time and collected Miss Irma's life on two trips.

"Celeste, we have to leave…now!" Terry said.

Rain threatened to fall. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a slow moving low fog filling up the street. Celeste shook uncontrollably, remembering what happened the last time she got caught in a fast-moving fog. She locked her front door. Micah stayed on her.

"Duchess!" Micah said, his eyes full of fear.

"I have to hide from some people. We thought we had time, but the sun is gone," she said.

She jumped into Terry's truck. Micah tried to open the passenger door and drag her out. Terry rushed forward and shoved him against the truck bed, his fangs bared and ready to tear the life out of her cousin.

"Terry, don't! He's our baby's family," she shouted.

Micah held his hands up to protect his face.

"I knew you weren't shit!" Micah spat out.

He wrenched his eyes away from Terry and looked at her.

"Go to St. Augustine's. Father Mbenga can hide you," Micah said. "It's church, though. I don't know if he can go in."

Terry released Micah's shirt and looked at her.

"I can ask him to invite you in again. Will that work?" Celeste asked.

"He invited me in before. It should still be safe for me to enter," Terry said.

"I'll follow you guys over there," Micah said.

He carefully backed away from Terry and fumbled with his keys to press his key fob. Terry climbed into his truck quickly and took them several blocks through the Quarter to hide in the fog. He drove with one eye on the road, and the other watching the surroundings. Celeste kept expecting the white van with ghouls to sideswipe them, preventing their escape.

"Where are the people?" Celeste asked.

The empty streets blanketed with fog were an anomaly. There should've been plenty of people still walking around and filling the Quarter with life. They headed north and parked in front of St. Augustine's. The church stood like a gothic rendering of salvation.

Terry jumped out of the truck first and ran to Celeste's passenger side, helping her get out. He held her hand tight and kept her near his side. Micah pulled up behind them and ran to the locked church doors. He banged on them and pulled out his smartphone.

"I'm calling the church office number," Micah said.

"Can we break in?" Celeste asked.

The fog swirled higher, covering them in a thick layer. Visibility diminished and with it, the dampening of sound all around them. Their voices sounded like they were in a closed vacuum. The acute silence and shroud of whiteness around them gave Celeste the sense that they had entered another dimension where only the three of them existed. Micah's voice became loud on his phone.

"Father Mbenga? It's Micah Profitt…I'm outside the church with my cousin Celeste and her…boyfriend. We need your help right now! Please let us into the sanctuary!"

The longest seven minutes held Celeste in a vise grip as they waited for the priest to open the church doors.

"What is happening?" Father Mbenga said, swinging one of the double doors open.

Micah grabbed Celeste's hand and pulled her inside first. They turned to look at Terry.

The father of her child looked so helpless standing there with uncertainty in his eyes. Celeste wanted him with her.

"Invite him in, Father Mbenga," Celeste said with a calm and firm tone.

She didn't want to take any chances.

"Come inside, son," Father Mbenga said.

Terry took a step forward.

Celeste locked eyes with him. She clutched the priest's arm.

"I need you to say 'I invite you inside'," Celeste insisted.

Father Mbenga looked confused, but he glanced at Terry and spoke the words.

"I invite you inside the house of the Lord. Will that do?"

Terry walked across the threshold.

Nothing happened. Celeste hugged him.

"What's going on here?" Father Mbenga asked.

Micah ushered the priest past the vestibule and into the main sanctuary. Father Mbenga flicked on more lights and they moved to the front pews. Celeste sat next to Terry and Micah perched across from them in another pew. The priest stood in front of the tabernacle.

"What do you need help with?" Father Mbenga asked.

"Duchess got herself mixed up with a vampire. She's pregnant by him," Micah said matter-of-factly.

Celeste put a hand over her face.

Father Mbenga, thankfully, didn't laugh them out of the church. He stared at Terry thoughtfully and took off his glasses. Pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks, the priest wiped the lenses carefully and then placed the round glasses back on his kind face.

"Show me," Father Mbenga said.

Terry stared at the priest, doubt clouding his expression.

"Show you?" Terry said.

"Yes."

Terry glanced at Celeste, unsure. Micah jumped up and slammed his right hand into his left.

"Will you show Father Mbenga what you are?!" Micah shouted.

Celeste gripped the edge of her seat, feeling uneasy. Terry stood and faced the priest. His body blocked her view of the shorter man.

"Mother Mary…Father of God!" the priest shrieked.

Celeste lowered her head. She knew exactly what Father Mbenga experienced. The confirmation of something otherworldly brought on feelings of terror. It knocked all previously held beliefs out of whack. Father Mbenga backed away from Terry and ran to the tabernacle. He gathered himself together and slowly turned to face Terry again. He held out a six-inch gold cross.

"You are an abomination…a scourge upon the earth���." Father Mbenga said.

Terry confronted the frightened priest and took the cross from his hand, placing it back on the tabernacle.

"That doesn't do what you think," Terry said.

"But this does!" Micah shouted.

Micah rushed behind Terry and choked him with a long, silver-linked chain. The skin on Terry's neck sizzled and blistered. Celeste screamed. The odor of burning vampire flesh sickened her.

Terry fell to his knees. He grabbed the chain, but it burned his fingers and he cried out in horrible pain.

"Micah! Stop it!" she screamed.

She ran to her cousin to pull the thick, five-foot long chain off of Terry, but Father Mbenga grabbed her arms and yanked her away.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Father Mbenga shouted at Terry.

"In the Holy Name of Jesus, I invoke the keys of St. Peter and the Church's authority…I bind each and every demon in and around Celeste Profitt and around us…in Jesus' name I bind them all, and I bind any demons supporting them, their evil leaders, and any minions of Satan…"

Father Mbenga's voice rose to a crescendo and blood drenched the silver chain slicing Terry's throat. Micah gained the upper hand and looked victorious wearing Terry down.

"Please…stop this…we came here for help to save me and my baby!"

"You won't have that vampire's baby, Duchess! It will destroy you and give these demons more evil to use!" Micah yelled.

Celeste stared at her cousin as if she'd never seen him before.

She truly hadn't.

Paralyzed with shock, Celeste could only watch helplessly as her beloved cousin tried to murder her lover.

"Micah…please…he's not what you think—"

"I tried to warn you, Duchess. Back in the Quarter, I told you to leave him alone."

Her eyes watered, and Micah's face blurred.

"My job is to spot these bloodsuckers…but you ran into his arms like a fool. Now look at 'cha," Micah panted, "Pregnant with a demon's seed."

"She's innocent," Celeste pleaded.

"She?" Micah said.

Terry slumped forward onto his stomach, weakened and damaged by the silver chain. He still breathed, but Celeste heard the gurgling of blood in his throat. Micah draped the chains around Terry's arms, binding them together behind his back.

"It's a girl," she said.

"Blasphemous," Father Mbenga spat at her.

He released her once Terry was no longer a threat. The priest had a wild look behind his glasses. Celeste knelt down near Terry.

"Get away from that unclean thing!" Father Mbenga barked.

Micah pulled her from Terry and glared at her.

"Trust me, Duchess, we know what we're doing," Micah urged.

The double doors of the church blasted open. Celeste and Micah whipped their heads toward the entrance.

The Deacon, Abai, stood at the entrance with his long black coat flared out behind him. His clan flanked him, gnashing their teeth and frustrated by the barrier. Abai's gaze stayed on Father Mbenga.

"Stupid little priest," Abai barked out. "Nothing you do will stop us from taking what we want."

Father Mbenga pointed at Abai.

"You are not welcome here! Evil cannot enter God's house without my permission."

"Celeste…dear sweet, Celeste. Invite us in and we will save our brother."

"I alone have the power to invite others into the House of God," Father Mbenga yelled with conviction.

"She is a member of this church, therefore, she too can invite us in, Father," Abai said.

Father Mbenga and Micah stared at Celeste. She could nearly smell the fear on them. Jerking away from Micah, she knelt down and tugged on the silver chain. Terry groaned. She lowered her face to his.

"Celeste, get away from here if you can…save yourself…save our baby…" he whispered in agony.

Two firm hands wrapped around Celeste's throat. Father Mbenga threw her against the tabernacle and she spun around to claw his face with her nails. He choked her again, squeezing the life from her and the baby.

"The fuck are you doing? Leave her alone!" Micah shouted.

Micah grabbed Father Mbenga's arm and yanked him away. The priest reached for his gold cross again and pulled it apart, revealing a sharp blade beneath. He stabbed Micah in the side.

"You lil bitch!" Micah said.

He staggered back and fell to his knees with blood gushing out of his abdomen. Slamming his hands over the wound, Micah glared at Father Mbenga.

"We're supposed to wait for the others to come and handle this…not attack my cousin. Are you fucking crazy?!" Micah shrieked in a weakened voice.

Celeste gasped for air and fought not to pass out. She crawled on her hands and knees toward the open entrance doors. If she couldn't trust humans not to kill her, she had to run from it seemed.

Father Mbenga jumped on her back and circled his thick fingers around her neck once more.

"You're a filthy whore lying down with them!"

Father Mbenga banged her face against the floor as he strangled her. Celeste reached out her right hand. She could barely make out the shape of Abai standing at the entrance.

"Celeste! Say the words! Let us save you and the baby!" Abai shouted.

Abai's voice sounded stressed and, more importantly…afraid for her. Could Terry be wrong about him?

"I…I…I invite you all in…." Celeste gasped out.

The world spun into a graying darkness as she watched swift obsidian shadows whip past her. A blood-curdling scream rang out and broke off abruptly. She could breathe freely again. The soreness in her throat pounded with the rush of blood in her veins.

Micah whimpered and wept quietly behind her. She rolled over and sat up. Rubbing her neck, she waited for her eyesight to clear.

"Don't kill my cousin," she said.

Her voice came out low and almost unintelligible.

Twelve strikingly beautiful Black vampires stood around Micah and Terry. Evenly six males to six females, they all stared at the floor. Father Mbenga's lifeless body was a crumpled heap in the center of them. She knew it was lifeless because the priest's head sat ten-feet away upon the tabernacle with a look of shock on its bespeckled face, the dead mouth wide open and frozen with the final breath of life that came out a scream. Blood dripped down the side of the tabernacle in long vermillion streaks, with the bladed gold cross impaled down the center of his forehead.

Micah kept his hand jammed against his stab wound, his expression woozy from the blood loss.

Abai glanced over at her.

"Come here Celeste…free our brother from his chains," Abai demanded.

Micah shook his head at her.

"Duchess…don't help them. They want us dead! We're food to them…stay back!" Micah begged.

The vampire named Mia crouched down and dug her claws into his side, ripping Micah's wound further. His cries of pain echoed throughout the church. Mia licked his blood from her claws and stomped over to Celeste.

"The Deacon gave you a command…do it!" Mia said.

She slapped Celeste across the face, leaving another scar that would need time to heal like the last time they met. Celeste lashed out and punched Mia in her legs. Mia lifted her by the throat and held her high.

"Mia…put…her…down," Abai said.

Mia dropped Celeste to her wobbly feet and punched her in the gut, knocking a loud breath out of her. Dominique flew at Mia and shoved her face back.

"Don't you harm it. Keep your jealousy in check," Dominique hissed.

Abai reached out toward Celeste.

"Free him for us," Abai said, his tone stern.

"Promise not to hurt my cousin," Celeste said.

She rubbed her belly and the pain there almost caused her to pass out. All the other vampires except for Abai and Dominique snarled at her, their monstrous fangs gleaming from the lights inside the church.

"No harm will come to him," Abai said.

"Don't believe them, Duchess. Don't worry about me. I'm good with God…I can die in peace and receive my salvation. You won't if you listen to them," Micah said.

The unexpected loud thud on the roof forced their eyes toward the ceiling. Other loud poundings struck the roof in different places.

A large winged creature crashed through the roof and landed on top of the tabernacle. Celeste's blood ran cold and fear gripped her even more than being surrounded by a vampire clan. At least they looked somewhat human.

The thing on the tabernacle was the stuff of childhood nightmares.

A gargoyle.

Skin the color of mottled stone with horns protruding from its forehead, the monstrosity had sharp fangs just as deadly looking as the vampires. To Celeste's catholic eyes, it looked like a grotesque mockery of an angel turned inside out. No genitalia was present.

"Gadreel," Abai said, with a touch of disdain. "Still simping for God, I see. Tell me forgotten brother…do you really think the most high…the most hypocritical Lord… will let you Old Ones return to heaven once you've done your penance for ten thousand years more?"

Abai glanced at the ceiling, listening to the movement above them. He talked tough, but Celeste sensed apprehension.

"You, Arakiel, Baraqiel, Kokabeel, Danuiel, and the others…don't you get weary of being used to go against us, your equally fallen siblings?" Abai sneered.

"WISHETACHIHU ĀYITAGEŠIMI!" Gadreel shouted.

Celeste and Micah both screamed and slammed their hands over their ears, the pain from the sound of the gargoyle speaking making their eardrums bleed.

"Gadreel, there are humans here. You can't speak the language of heaven without harming their weak ears. Aren't you breaking the rules of your penance? You vowed to protect them, remember?"

Gadreel focused his attention on Celeste. His deep-set eyes looked like pewter stones.

"Leave us, human woman. There is no need for us to deal with you until that sin in your womb has been born," Gadreel said.

He spoke to her in English, his voice sounding like the creaking of giant ancient doors that should remain closed. Celeste rose to her feet and used the pews to help keep her balance with all the anxious trembling she experienced in her limbs. Her stomach churned with so much fear she thought she might puke, but she had to be strong for her baby.

She started weeping.

Keeping the baby became a top priority. Father Mbenga turning on her, calling her a whore and even her own cousin calling the little one inside her a demon seed, shored up her resolve to keep it. Her upbringing in the church taught her that God had a purpose for everything in her life. Celeste chose to have faith of a mustard seed at that moment.

Stumbling over to Terry, she dropped weakly on her knees and pulled apart the knot in the chains, freeing him from bondage. She tossed the chain on the pew and tried to lift him up. Mia pushed her away and turned Terry over.

"Terry…Terry…" Mia murmured with soothing affection.

His eyelids fluttered and opened slowly. He looked up at Mia, who stroked his hair and touched his throat that clotted with blood. The woman had love in her eyes. She kissed him on the lips. Celeste's stomach tightened.

"Duchess?" Terry said.

He pushed Mia back, his eyes darting around, looking for her. Mia snarled, her fangs wet with saliva.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Mia shrieked.

The vampire lunged at Celeste, and all hell broke loose in the sanctuary.

Faster than the human eye could follow, more gargoyles crashed through the roof all over the church. Abai and the other vampires battled the gargoyles, but Celeste could not follow their unnatural speed fully. She caught glimpses of shadows or felt dark streaks moving, like the buzzing of mosquitoes flapping past her ears when she couldn't swat them fast enough. She sensed the whooshing of air above her and witnessed pews and the tabernacle crashing to pieces, destroyed with all the tussling and tearing of flesh. Blood rained around her from the vampires and gargoyles that were injured. Crimson blood dripped everywhere along with a dark orange fluid that had to be from the gargoyle's wounds.

Under great duress, Micah crawled to her, and she helped him get on his feet. They limped together toward the double doors. She paused in her steps to rest because Micah was so heavy. Glancing back, she caught a flash sighting of Terry sprinting toward her. Gadreel flew at him with an outstretched wingspan ten-feet across and lifted Terry off the ground. Terry used his claws and razor-sharp teeth to rip chunks out of the gargoyle's shoulder. Other gargoyles flew above them, fighting vampires who kept attacking even while they were being shaken like rags back and forth high above her. The horror flying about the church looked like a hideous medieval painting of Dante's inferno come to life.

Mia leaped high into the air and landed on Gadreel's back to help Terry knock him into a wall.

"Get out of here, Celeste!" Terry screamed.

Another gargoyle grabbed Mia mid-air, ripping her face to shreds. Gadreel burst through the rafters carrying Terry, making another gaping hole in the roof.

Celeste couldn't help him.

She could only help herself and her cousin.

Turning back to the entrance doors, Celeste's blood pressure dropped, and she passed out on the floor.

Micah toppled right over her.

Chapter 14 HERE.

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[stilluphere]

Harrow and Gideon in their later years

[crossbackpoke-check]

yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24

[possiblyfunny]

Hey, look guys, more art-

HOPE.

I’ve been wanting to draw him like this ever since I first saw him smile, but my will to draw eluded me until now! This started off as a doodle, so, please excuse the messiness. I drew this to de-stress.

“Fire” Red belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have a blog called @themissingnumbers, which is really good! Go check it out if you want to see more.

[Sketch + Colored Version below the cut!]

[stephstars08]

I seriously need to start showing Spider more love on this blog!!!🥺🥺

[disappearingcigarette]

yeah shit is gonna be rocky I think with the friend I’m staying with

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[5sospenguinqueen]

Tantrums - Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: After 10 years together, Lewis keeps pushing back the date on when “forever” can start. Realising that forever applies to her job and not their relationship, she makes it clear that she’s had enough. 

Warnings: slight age gap, reader is 32. angst, heavy on the angst. 

Requested: @madelynn-sienna (sorry it took so long. i didn’t think i was gonna do it ngl to you because i don’t really write for lewis)

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yn_ln when he feels bad that he’s on the other side of the world for your birthday 

4,444 comments

lewishamilton happy birthday, love. i’m so sorry i’m in australia and not with you but i promise i will make it up to you when i’m home. roscoe promised me he’d spend the day spoiling you 

→ roscoelovescoco yes i’s did’s 

user1 oh to be loved the way yn is loved by lewis 

user2 no one makes me feel as single as lewis and yn do 

carmenmmundt @/georgerussell63 take notes

→ yn_ln you tell him, hun

→ georgerussell63 i buy you flowers all the time! 

f1 we’re sorry that a race fell on your birthday. we’ll ask the fia to fix the calendar next year so this doesn’t happen again

mercedesamgf1 we’d give him back if we could. happy birthday, yn

georgerussell63 hang on a second. you’ve not left us yet. that’s not the right car

→ charles_leclerc that’s the perfect car 

→ yn_ln i didn’t buy the car. i just jumped behind the wheel

user3 not me hoping she’d be getting a ring for her birthday 

→ user4 we’ve been waiting for this for the past 8 birthdays

→ user5 it’s been 10 years. we were expecting two rings and a few kids by now

→ user6 i mean, he just bought her a sports car. not very kid friendly 

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lewishamilton just posted

liked by francolapinto, sebastianvettel and others 

lewishamilton happy 10 years to the love of my life. every moment with you is an adventure i never want to end

9,448 comments

yn_ln forever with you ❤️ mainly because i can’t be bothered to train some new guy to photos that good of me

mercedesamgf1 can’t believe it’s been 10 years already. it feels like only yesterday yn was making her paddock debut. here’s to another 10 

→ user7 not mercedes commenting like they’re a part of this relationship 

→ user8 well he’s been with yn almost as long as he’s been with mercedes so they practically are at this point 

user9 my favourite f1 couple

user10 i love their rich money vibes

roscoelovescoco happy’s anniversary’s mum and’s dad 

→ yn_ln my precious boy 

→ user11 now she needs a real baby 

danielriccairdo i can’t believe she’s managed to put up with you for ten years 😂 huge love to you both

→ yn_ln ngl, it’s been tough

→ lewishamilton i’m taking the ferrari back 

user12 wedding and baby when? 

georgerussell63 happy 10 year anniversary. yn is my favourite part of you being my teammate 

→ carmenmmundt can we keep her when you go to ferrari?

→ charles_leclerc no. it’s my turn now 

→ lewishamilton i think you’re all forgetting that she’s mine 

mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and others 

mercedesamgf1 GET IN THERE, LEWIS 🏆🥇 LEWIS HAMILTON IS YOUR BRITISH GRAND PRIX WINNER 

23,441 comments

yn_ln my love. i honestly have not stopped crying since you crossed that line. i’m so proud of you. you deserved this and proved to everyone why you’re a motorsport legend

→ lewishamilton couldn't do it without your support 🩷

→ mercedesamgf1 it’s true. the mechanics were uncomfortable when they realised they couldn't just keep giving her tissues

georgerussell63 you deserve it, mate

valterribottas well done champ

user1 can’t believe he won silverstone the same weekend he celebrated 10 years with yn 

→ user2 she’s always been his good luck charm. he performs so well when she’s watching

→ user3 they’re the dream team together 

user4 the fact that yn is the only one he responded to

user5 she’s getting it good tonight

skysportsf1 posted a new interview

user6 oh no, lewis…

user7 lewis, she was asking what was next for you and yn, relationship wise

user8 oh, that’s not quite

user9 i hope yn doesn’t see this otherwise i fear lewis might be in the doghouse tonight 

→ user10 i hope she does see it so that she knows he’s not thinking of her future in the same way 

user11 i always thought lewis loved yn as much as yn loved lewis but now i’m not sure

user12 it’s the fact that the poor interviewer looked upset at his answer as well. like she hoped for better

→ user13 we all hoped for better 

user14 it’s the fact that she’s always talked about wanting kids and getting married but has always said they’re waiting until lewis is ready

→ user15 the fact that every year passes and he never indicates that he’s ready for any of it though 

replies to @/F1Wags

user1 lewis still follows yn

→ user2 and still has all of his photos up, including their anniversary post 

→ user1 i’m hoping this means he’s in denial and is still trying to win her back

user3 i can’t believe this is real. she went all the way back and deleted everything related to him in 10 years. even edited posts to delete slides he was in

→ user4 dedicated queen

user5 just fell to my knees in walmart

user6 i’m devastated but i also hope this means she finds a man who will be prepared to give her the life she wants 

→ user7 well, more fool her for staying this long

→ user6 not really. ever think she wanted those things because she wanted them with lewis

→ user8 don’t break my heart like this please  

replies to @/WeDon'tThink

user9 okay but your pen was on fire when you wrote that 

user10 he literally had the best weekend of his life with a 10yr anniversary, winning silverstone and then clearly messed it all up somehow in the end 

user11 if sir lewis hamilton can’t even do right, what hope do the rest of us have in finding a decent man

→ user12 no because they looked just as in love as they did 10 years ago and he still fumbled

user13 i saw rumours it was because he gave her an ultimatum and she didn’t take the path he wanted 

→ user14 what do you mean?

→ user13 apparently “close sources” said that he told her if she wanted kids, she couldn't have him and so she left 

→ user14 wtf!!! good on her for dumping his ass

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calvinklein and yn_ln just posted

liked by nicorosberg, fernandoalo_official and others 

calvinklein @/yn_ln is stunning in calvin klein underwear. shop the collection now 

5,533 comments

yn_ln oh okay. i look goooood 

→ alexandrasaintmleux i would let you take me home

→ carmenmmundt me too

→ georgerussell63 excuse me, i don’t agree with this

user1 aha, nico we see you 

→ user2 and fernando

landonorris oh so he fumbled bad 

→ oscarpiastri they’re going to take your social media off you again

user3 is this her version of a revenge dress?

→ user4 more like undress

user5 not sure why you wouldn’t want to marry and give a baby to a woman like that 

→ user6 okay, ew

user7 can we appreciate how she’s handled this with class. instead of speaking out against lewis, she’s been booked and busy and flitting about europe on modelling jobs 

→ user8 just further proof that he managed to lose the best woman ever 

roscoelovescoco you’s look’s nice, mum

→ user9 i know lewis hires someone to run this account but what are the odds that he’s actually behind it now so he can stalk yn 

yn_ln please can we all focus on the clothes and support how hot i look by buying some! 

→ danielricciardo don’t even have tits but you convinced me to buy a bra

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lewishamilton just posted

liked by valterribottas, scuderiaferrari and others 

lewishamilton mixed feelings about today. obviously happy for a win but very disappointing for george and the team missing out on a 1-2

7,744 comments

georgerussell63 we put up a good fight today

user1 not really a deserved win though, is it

user2 you fumbled yn and now you’re fumbling wins. you only got this because merc screwed over george 

roscoelovescoco well’s done’s dad

user3 see what happens when you play a good woman, you get a dirty win

user4 man needs to act his age. can’t believe at the grand age of 39, he strung along a girl who loved him more than anything for 10 years

→ user5 destroyed my faith in men for real 

user6 robbed a win from george like you robbed 10 years from yn 

(comments on this post have been limited)

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I wrote this out and was really proud of it and then when I was adding the other driver’s versions on, I realised it was the same principal as Daniel’s so I’m so sorry for the repeated plot

Baby Fever Angst Masterlist

requests are open

[salemlunaa]

SURE TIME IS A CONCEPT, BUT THE CLOCK IS TICKING ◔

what more do some of you want?…

A lot of you need to fix up. stop doomscrolling and complaining and actually apply knowledge.

Do you wanna know how to be like those people who enter the void/ induce pure consciousness with ease after struggling, some of them not even struggling at all? All those success stories that you idolise, screenshot, like, reblog and envy all have one thing in common:

They wanted it. Bad. You need to want it

Those people saw all this shit that they didn’t deserve happen to them, they saw how other people were born with the lives they want, and they decided enough was enough. They weren’t taking shit from the world anymore, they were tired of living lives that they dread, tired of looking at people’s lives with envy, tired of the way life was going for them and how the world treated them unprovoked. They were tired of dreading waking up another day in their shitty realities. Tired of hating themselves in the morning because of another unproductive night. They were TIRED and you need to be too, that fuelled their want for their new lives and got them where they are now.

I’m not saying you can’t be in my asks or you can’t be in my dms. But at what point is it enough? at what point does it become pathetic? You go in these bloggers asks and dms and question them on shit that 1: has been said multiple times or 2: is common sense. But fine, keep playing dumb, keep indulging in the assumption that it “just doesn’t work for you” keep pretending that your just this innocent little baby who “doesn’t understand why it’s not working🥺” 🙄anyway…. You can sit here in this community for as many years as you like while people get what they want.

And although time is a malleable concept that can be manipulated, the clock is ticking, it’s almost 2025 and some of you are right where you started. I need to ask you to sit with your self, look at 2025,2026,2027 heck even 2028, do you see yourself still here? be honest, do you genuinely see yourself with your dream life? if not you need to change your mindset, and stop asking how, you know how!!

Locking in and changing your mindset isn’t this big character development that lasts weeks, it can take seconds. So you could’ve had everything yesterday, 15 minutes ago, an hour ago, even a fucking minute ago, but you’re still here choosing to scroll and act stupid, inhaling new information each day like you were born yesterday. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU NEED TO DO!!! Are you not tired of the same routine, you get motivated from some posts, you get this high, this amazing feeling like you’re so ready to do it, then you procrastinate and if you do manage to try you “fail” and run back to tumblr for the 100th time. Are you not tired of the same shit?

Again, do yall wanna make it to 2025,2026,2027, even 2028 without all the shit you want? At what point does it become enough information and enough questions asked? I know it feels validating and comforting to complain about your circumstances knowing others can relate, but at what point do you stop aligning with the loser who “can’t do it”? Stop acting like you actually give a shit when you say you’re going to apply and then you come back whining. Start acting like you actually want it.

You’re the only one who can change your life, if you want to still complain sure go ahead. Keep the tumblr “for you page” some company while everyone else is actually applying and getting their dream lives. A lot of you don’t want to hear it but with the way you’re wavering you’re probably going to be here for a few more years.

That doesn’t mean you cant change that, i’m not the one who writes your story, it’s you, again, it’s not hard work to change. Like the art of inducing pure consciousness, nothing is hard, nothing needs effort, so you can change your mindset within the snap of a finger and be good to go. But wavering brings you right back to square one.

the clock is ticking and you are STILL here…. LOCK TF IN!!!

SOME OF YOU HAVEN’T MADE ANY SIGNIFICANT PROGRESS, THAT CHANGES NOW!! ⏳💋

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[sugume]

CALL ME DADDY w/Jujutsu Kaisen

More: Fem!Reader, explicit content, daddy Kink, dd/lg undertones, implied 24/7 kink play, blowjob, praise, punishment, spanking with a paddle, blood, riding, cunnilingus, squirting

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Ryomen Sukuna, Nanami Kento & Choso Kamo

☾ Satoru Gojo  

The ‘Dad Joke’ Daddy, ’s very playful and dorky. He loves doing the stereotypical TV dad things like smoking cigars, having a world’s best dad mug, and reading the paper during breakfast. Your number one supporter, always at every event or promotion you have, and he’s the first to support you when you’re down. Because he has more life experience, he enjoys guiding you.

“Quiet baby, Daddy’s tryin' ta read the paper.” He hushes you with a firm pat on the head. You're on your knees under the table, with his cock buried as far as it can go.

“Sorry Daddy,” you whisper, taking his heavy cock out of your mouth. “I promise I’ll be quiet.” You look up at him expectantly through wet lashes.

“I know you will, love.” He smiles down at you before gently pushing your head back towards his cock. You happily shove It back into your mouth while he picks up his favorite mug and reads about the current world events.

“Such a good girl, always listenin’ to what Daddy tells you, hmm? I think you deserve an award.”

☾ Ryomen Sukuna

The 'Disciplinarian' Daddy, has very high expectations of you. Very strict with SO many guidelines and rules, it's almost like he wants you to fail so he has a reason to punish you. He’s a brat tamer who readily reminds you who's in charge. Likes to physically enforce his rules and never skips a good spanking. 

“I’m sorry Daddy, promise I am!” You sob as the wooden paddle comes down on your already bruised ass. 

“You didn't sound sorry laughin' and messin’ with me durin’ my meeting.” He grits out, forcing your hands to stay on to the side when you try to cover your ass. 

“Thought it was funny while m’ just tryin’ ta support us,” he brings the paddle down, ignoring your screams for mercy. “All you do is sit at home and’ spend my hard-earned money.”

“I'm sorry Daddy I won’t do it again.” You squirm when he rubs an especially sore spot on your ass that you know for a fact is going to sting for the next week. 

“Yea?” He slowly lets go of your hands.

“Yes! Yes! I swear Daddy, on my life!” Your sob of relief turns into a scream when he brings his hand down again. 

“What did I say about swearing things on your life, huh!?”

☾ Nanami Kento

The ‘Professor’ Daddy, he's so calm and patient with you. All he wants is to see you succeed. Likes taking you on informational dates like going to a museum or aquarium or just staying in and watching documentaries. He’s a pillar of strength, very structured and strict but also forgiving and nurturing. Loves giving you praise and seeing your face lighten up when he teaches you something interesting. 

“C'mon little girl, you can do it.” He encourages you from his place underneath you. 

“I can’t do it! ‘S too big, I’m so stupid!’ You cry out, covering your tear-ridden face from your daddy. 

He must be so disappointed, you think. 

“Hey…Hey, you can, princess, I know you can. Remember what Daddy taught you?” he pulls your hands from your face and places them on his big chest. You look into his eyes and nod.

“Yea,” he settles you over his cock. “Daddy knows he taught you how to ride, you just have to do it yourself now. C'mon perfect girl you can do it.”

With his praise you nod to yourself before slowly guiding yourself down his shaft. Once you reach the hilt you moan and smile down at him. He smiles back before nodding back expectantly. You brace your knees on the soft pillows underneath them and slowly start bouncing exactly like he taught you. 

“My perfect girl.”

☾ Choso Kamo

The ‘lowercase ‘d’ Daddy, the rare submissive daddy. He loves doing anything that pleases you and tends to be more forgiving when you break the few rules he has. He enjoys providing from a submissive mindset and being wrapped around his partner's finger. 

“Do you feel good, baby?” Chosos asks from his position underneath your dress.

“Mhm, feels so good Daddy, you always make me feel so good.” You moan when he goes back to eating you out. He says something else but it's muffled as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curl into your g-spot. 

“Right there Daddy,” You squeeze his head between your thighs. “M’gonna squirt Daddy, you’re gonna make me squirt!” You yell before releasing all over his face. 

“Fuck that felt so good Daddy.” You grin at Choso who’s come out of your now damp dress.

“Yea? You tasted fuckin’ divine babygirl.” He grins up at you. 

“Can you do me a big favor?” You blink innocently, already knowing the answer. His eyebrows frown in confusion.

“Course I will baby, what is it?”

“Can you lick my mess up off the floor, don’ want my parents to wonder why the floor is wet.”

[droaxa]

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 2

✧ warnings: violence and force, yandere behavior, descriptions of dismemberment, blood, stalking, police, nsfw content, kissing, angst, smut, breaking in, attempted murder, cuts, dead dove, probably more stuff

✧ a/n: my most requested fic at the moment! i decided to take some of your suggestions and add my own twist at the end + yandere name reveal!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

yandere cheater wrestles you into his car after he drags you outta the cafe you’re in, unyielding as you try to pull away. the second he shuts the door and jets to the drivers side, you force yourself out the door and sprint down the street.

you hear his yells as you increase your speed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long. not only was he more athletic than you, but a look back revealed his terrifying expression. he was clearly set on catching you, having the advantage in his relatively relaxed clothing opposed to you, who was dressed for a date.

knowing you couldn’t beat him you came to a sudden stop of to the side of the sidewalk and he rammed into your side. stumbling back a few steps you stopped him. eyes wide and hair blown back, he looks at you mildly surprised.

“wha-” you interrupt him this time, taking advantage of his surprise by slapping a hand over his mouth.

you bring on an expression that you think is intimidating, “leave me the fuck alone, i don’t know what the hell you want but i’m not taking you back”

he scoffs like he has you all figured out, taking your hand off his mouth to reveal a smirk underneath. “guess mother dear will find out about your… escapades then”

smack!

you slap him across the face sharply, sound reverberating around you and leaving a tinge of red on his cheek. his mouth gapes as he looks back at you even more surprised, what happened to the mild mannered girl who he had cheated on dated?

“release those anywhere and i will fuck up your life asshole” you fume, hand still in the air as if to threaten him for another slap. “you’re the one that decided to cheat on me with every girl we knew. fucking own up to it”

you were sick of his shit, who did he think he was? you huff out a quiet fuck off as you pass him, shoulder bumping against his. as soon as you rounded the corner you sprint to a nearby parked cab, slamming the door on your way in.

“to the university dorms please”

yandere cheater runs after you too late, rounding the corner as you take off in the cab. poor baby, you were still hung up on him cheating? he didn’t even really like those girls anyway, they weren’t good for anything except their bodies.

but you, you were it for him. he’d do anything to see your cute smile again, to see you whimper on his cock. he felt his swollen cheek, your anger may come in the way of him proving his love, but you’d understand in the end. how deep his love ran. all he had to do was prove was that those girls meant nothing.

two weeks had passed, two long peaceful weeks. your ex finally seemed to give up, the barrage of text messages and calls diminishing to radio silence and constant gifts at your doorstep suddenly stopping. maybe you were more intimidating than you thought.

the second you got home after the encounter, you had called your mother and explained everything. although she did yell at you for a solid hour due her disappointment in you sending out explicit photos of yourself, she understood your situation. after giving her instructions on blocking your ex if he tried to reach out to her you were finally at a peace of mind. at a zen. maybe you could turn a new leaf, you deserved it.

of course you had fucking jinxed it, just when you finally thought it was all over, your ex had tried to force himself back in your life again. deep down, you knew he wouldn’t give up that easy. he’d always be stubborn to a fault.

two weeks after the encounter a small navy present box appeared in from of your new dorm room door. still groggy with sleep you rubbed your eyes and picked up the box, bringing it inside. after contemplating for a minute, you finally decide to open it. in your sleep ridden state, you reasoned that it was probably something you’d left behind at your ex’s house.

it takes a minute to register the contents of the box, but when you do

“OH MY GOD”

you scream and stumble back.

two bloodshot green- brown eyes were pressed into the shiny white silk inside, the area around them a tinge of red. that alone could be passed off as a cruel prank by some immature students but the unmistakable metallic scent of blood lingering in the air said otherwise. that and the only other item in the plush silk: a silver bracelet with the initials ‘e.r’.

only one person you knew owned that bracelet and had those eyes, your ‘friend’ eva. but you had blocked and lost contact with her after you found her and your boyfriend together in the bathroom of the mall. there’s no way she would have just lost this bracelet either, you remembered her bragging about how it was permanent. being soldering together around her hand.

you were nauseous. oh god. you knew it was him, you just knew. sure you hated her but you didn’t want her to die. what the hell, what the fuck do you even do?

before you could think you grabbed your phone calling the only person you could think of.

“can you come over quick, please?”

20 minutes later a dark haired man rushed in through your front door, spotting you curled up in the corner. your eyes wide and still staring at the open box.

“(y/n) what’s going on?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly. you just point to the box and he takes a peek, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes shoot open “fucking hell…”

you turn to him, eyes teary “ray what do we do?”

ray was your one real friend through everything your ex put you through, and ironically your ex’s older brother. he was one that introduced you to your ex and thus he blamed himself for letting him hurt you, even though you’d reassured him that you didn’t find him at any fault.

he was reliable and kind, a shoulder to lean on when things got tough. you’d known him for almost two years longer than your ex and honestly if you didn’t meet your ex, the small crash you harbored for ray may have grown. after you met you ex you assumed that your feelings for ray had naturally died out but you couldn’t lie about the strange biting feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

and even now he was talking care of you, taking you to the police station to talk to the police and turning in the bloody present. a few hours later you both were back in your dorm, sitting on the edge of your bed as you discussed the situation.

“look i really appreciate all this, you didn’t have to come with me to the station”

he smiles, “anytime (y/n), if it’s for you”

you smile back, face a little warm from his answer “that’s sweet”

he moves a little closer, your pinkies now you touching. “you’re sweeter, my asshole brother doesn’t know what he missed out on.” and you swear that you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

“really?” you ask coyly, leaning in slightly.

he nods slightly hesitant “if i had a girlfriend like you i wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that, i-i mean you’re thoughtful and pretty and-” he gets cut off as you lean up and press your lips to his. he immediately freezes up and you take his response as rejection, pulling away. fuck, he was obviously just being nice who even likes their brothers ex?

“i’m so sorry i though-” before you can finish apologizing ray’s lips smash onto yours, one of his hands in your hair to pull you closer and the other guiding your lips to his by your chin. in between heated kisses he mumbles,

“god i was waiting for so long,” a kiss.

“prettiest girl i’ve ever met” another heated kiss. his words of longing slur as he continues to kiss you, pulling you ever closer. his plush lips trail down your neck and to your stomach, slender hand playing at your waistband. his hooded eyes look up at you as his other hand wanders under your shirt. “can i?”

you give him a shy nod and he smiles, pulling down your pajama shorts to reveal white cotton panties. you cover your face with your arm out of embarrassment and he reaches out, keeping your arm down.

“wann’ see your pretty face, waited for it” you nod meekly and he flashes his dimples, continuing to pull down your panties and throw them somewhere behind him. your cute cunt, glistening with arousal was right in front of his face. fuck. gliding a finger up the slit, he watches as the slick from your pussy coats it. fuck.

an hour later he was in heaven, or at least you felt like it. buried deep inside your wet cunt as you moaned and squirmed under him

“ngh- fuck, so good fa’ me baby”

this was the stuff of wet dreams. he speeds up as he feels his orgasm approaching, praises and grunts slipping from his lips as he slams his hips against yours. soft skin against muscle, hot breath on your face from where he was above you. finally he pulls out with groan, wanting to stay buried in your warm. spurts of warm cum shoot up your stomach as he finally finishes.

ray collapses beside you, both of you sweaty and nude as you bathe in the afterglow. weakly, you smile at his tired form as you close your eyes, drifting to sleep in your warm bed.

bang!

you wake up with a start, wearing a shirt too big to be yours. must be ray’s. you look around the dim room and reach for ray, feeling nothing in the space next to your body. did ray… leave? that couldn’t be right. your bare feet hit the wood floor as you step towards your lamp and turn on the light. nothing.

you look around the bedroom and then head to the kitchen, turning the corner and switching on the light. immediately the kitchen floods with light and you gasp. the floor was tracked with blood, a trail leading from where you stood to your bathroom. was he hurt?! you cautiously approach the bathroom, a sharp metallic scent dominates your nose as push open the half open door.

“took a while to wake up didn’t you sleepyhead?”

your blood runs cold. it was your ex boyfriend. if the crazed grin in his face wasn’t unsettling enough the blood smearing on his cheek and splattered across his body sent alarms going off inside you. looking behind him you see the source of all the red.

ray. deep cuts run down his body, clothes shredded, and body half submerged in the now murky red water of the tub. on the tile floor next to him was your kitchen knife, covered in blood. without missing a beat you turned and sprinted to your bed stand, searching for your phone. there’s no way you would make it to the door in time, you needed to call the police and at least save ray.

haphazardly searching your bed and nightstand, you still can’t find your phone. where is it?

“oh lookin’ for your phone?” you turn to him. in his hand was the aforementioned object, light pink case looking uncharacteristically cute opposed to his blood-ridden form. “you’re a pretty deep sleeper hon, i mean i was rummaging around right next to you for this and you didn’t even hear”

“what are you doing raph?” you ask terrified, slowly inching away from him.

in response he approaches you, “what do you think? my girl runs off on me and the next time i see her she’s fucking my brother. you tryna make me jealous baby?” he leans in, expression seemingly amused but you knew better. he was pissed.

“and you’re wearing his shirt too” his large hand plays with the round collar of the tee, fingers ghosting over your collarbones.

“take it off”

eyes wide, you look up at him, “no i won-”

“take it off or he dies” raph’s face is dead serious, no traces of amusement left, stare burning into your face. “you want him to live right? i’ll call the police as long as you take it off”

you hesitate then slowly peel off ray’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor. raph had seen your body before right? it was a small price to pay for saving rays life. the action left you in only your cotton panties as you tried to preserve your modesty with your hands.

raph lets out a low whistle and steps forward, pulling you closer by the curve of your waist. chucking as you shiver due to his cold touch

“already forgot i feel baby? might needa reteach ya”

you look away from him, refusing to see the smug expression playing on his face.

at that moment you felt a wave of self hatred crash over you, why couldn’t you do anything about this? were you so weak that you couldn’t protect yourself, much less ray? but who were you kidding, you weren’t faster or stronger than raph. there’s no way you could get out of this situation with both of you alive without giving into raph.

raph places a rough hand at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. unlike his brother his touch was demanding and rash, the only purpose of it being to prove that you were still his silly girl. no matter how hard you tried to run away.

he coos at your troubled expression “where’s all that fire from before huh?” he grins at your submissive state, the one that he caused. “i’ll be nice, put your own clothes on. quick.”

was he playing with you? you take a look at ray’s shirt on the floor and then approach your closet under a guise of calmness, but a look at your shaking hands would disprove your confidence. putting on a bra, followed by a bottom and a top, then outer wear. anything to put more layers between you and him.

a look up at him reveals that he was already looking at you, probably to stop you from pulling another trick on him. he leans down to whisper in your ear but instead decides to press his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell. he mutters, face still in your hair “god i missed you” the sincere tone in his voice scared you the most.

he pulls away, expression distant and somewhat melancholy. “you know if you acted like a good girl from the beginning i wouldn’t have to do this”

before you can question him, his open right hand presses against your face, hard. the other hand supports your head to stop you from pulling away, body trapped. the bitter smell of something pressed on the tissue between your face and his hand floods your senses.

for the second time that night all your senses dull, and everything goes dark.

a/n: i know i know you guys wanted reader to get away from him! i just though this was more interesting then the reader getting back at raph and getting away with it. i like to make my yanderes stubborn loll. hope you liked the twist might write a part 3 ^^

[webbluvrsugar]

you asked for requests and you shall recieve my baby!

i’m obsessed with the idea of ethan x popular!bimbo! reader. she’s always dressed to the nines, loves pink, smells so sweet and he’s just so obsessed with her

a/n: omg!!! yesyesyes, Ethan would sooooo freak out with a bimbo r!! and also ty so much, saved my life T-T

Ethan Landry and his pretty bimbo girlfriend!

Ethan never truly understood what he did to deserve you.

Seriously, he just didn't get it.

He was only a nerd, a geek obsessed with horror movies, a mundane overshadowed guy — if you don't count the massive killing he does at night — he's just a normal person, some would even say boring.

And you... you're everything. You're popular, always circled by a big group of friends, always wearing pretty pink little outfits, always wearing large heels that sometimes get you taller than him, and honestly, he doesn't mind it, he stands proudly next to you when you're walking with him, likes it when your hair flies all over his face and he can scent the mix of sweets you put on as perfume today, likes to identify if you're wearing strawberry or passionfruit - but sometimes, he can tell which one by your outfits.

Plus, he's a good boyfriend, he doesn't think he's all that but you always tell him so when honestly he's just doing the bare minimum to keep a girl like you. He holds your hair out of the way when you're eating so it doesn't get stuck in your gloss, he holds your hand when going up the stairs so you don't fall, he makes sure your makeup is removed after you've had too many drinks so you don't complain the next day, and truthfully, he likes this lifestyle.

How couldn't he? He's obsessed with you.

Obsessed with the cheerful smiles, the pink lipstick stains on his neck, the way you laugh, the way you bounce on him and make his eyes roll back like he's the best dick you've ever had, the way you leave rings of lipstick on the base of his cock, the way you kiss him in front of everyone just to make him blush.

But especially, he likes it when you're a brat, when you cry and shout and act pissed at him, just for the pleasure of pinning you on those sheets, pulling your hair and give you what you've been wanting all day.

"If — if you wanted dick, y´could´ve said so," he grinds into you slowly, the same loving way he shows you affection off bed. "No need to be a bitch." he grunts, pace quickening as he shoves your head down on the sheets.

"I'll always give you what you need, hm?"

And sometimes, he even believes he's a good boyfriend.