#crying crying screaming sobbing BABY BABY!!!!!!!!

[sluttyminghao]

♡ pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ genre: smut (like. straight up pwp) ♡ w.c: 2.9k ♡ warnings: choking, cum play, overstimulation, degradation/praise, cock warming, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, brief mentions of anal play, mirror sex, face fucking, bdsm elements, possession, raw and rough sex, no aftercare, extremely explicit ♡ a/n: the filthiest thing I've written probably ever. Please carefully read the warnings before reading! thank you to @facethesunflower and @supi-wupi for beta-ing for me ily both!

You knew exactly what you were doing when you wore that red dress out to dinner—short, tight, and no panties as the cherry on top. You wanted to rile him up.

But you didn’t expect this. Not this kind of punishment.

You’re on your knees in front of the mirror, your arms bound behind your back with one of Seungcheol’s belts, your dress bunched up haphazardly around your waist, while your makeup, that you had worked so hard on to make sure it was perfect, is smeared all over your heated face. His cock is buried deep in your throat as he fists your hair and fucks your mouth with zero mercy, all the while he’s got a smirk etched into his face as he observes you.

“You wanted to tease me with that fucking dress?” he growls, eyes locked on yours through the reflection. “Parading around the restaurant and the bar with no fucking panties on? All the while you’re biting your lip like a little whore all night?”

Your reply is nothing but a gagged moan around his cock, leaving him breathless for a moment.

He yanks you off his erection with a wet pop. You gasp for air, drool sliding down your chin. He smears it back across your lips with his thumb messily, chuckling as he does so.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice dark and low. “Such a cock-hungry slut that you can’t even breathe without it, huh?”

You nod, desperate. “Please…I want it—I want you…”

He slaps your cheek—not overly hard, but just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “You don’t get to want things, baby. You gave that up when you decided to act like a fucking brat.”

He drags you by the hair to the bed and throws you face-first into the mattress. You whimper quietly as he spreads your legs roughly, the belt still pinning your wrists together behind your back. Your ass is already sore from the earlier spanking he’d given you.

He doesn’t give you a warning. No glint in his eye, no twitch of his arm; just spits onto your pussy and drives himself into you with one brutal thrust. Your scream is muffled by the sheets as he starts a merciless pace, groaning as he does so.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Seungcheol groans, leaning over your back, one hand becoming tangled in your hair, the other gripping at your hip like a vice. “That’s what a dumb little breeding toy like you gets. Used. Fucked. Filled.”

You whimper at the stretch; he’s thick, deep, and bordering on brutal, and you’re absolutely soaking and clenching, your body is addicted to him even as you shake from the force of it.

“You’re gonna cum on this cock,” he snarls. “Again, and again, and you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

He pulls out halfway and slams back in so hard your knees slip forward on the sheets. His belt bites beautifully into the skin of your wrists. You’re a complete mess for him; you’re crying and drooling, even moaning his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

And he loves it.

“Look at yourself,” he pants, gripping mindlessly at your throat and yanking you up, forcing your eyes to the mirror. “Fucking look. This is what you wanted, right? Getting ruined? Getting bred like a filthy little cumdump?”

You can see it so clearly now. Your own eyes, glazed and teary. Your makeup is utterly and completely ruined beyond salvaging. The way his cock disappears into your soaked pussy, over and over, your body twitching from overstimulation.

You’re beautiful. Broken. His.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours,” you sob. “It’s yours…please, please-”

He slaps your ass and cuts off your sentence, the crack echoing through the room. “Damn right it is. And I’m not stopping until you’re dripping my cum for days.”

The first orgasm slams into you like a freight train. You scream, shaking under him, your walls pulsing so hard that you nearly black out from the pleasure alone.

He doesn’t stop. Oh no, he just fucks you harder.

“That’s it. Keep squeezing my cock. You want to be a little fucktoy? Then take it.”

You cum again before you’ve even come down from your first high. You’re sobbing now from the intensity, head falling forward, thighs trembling.

But he’s not done.

He pulls out of you only long enough to flip you onto your back, arms still tied, your body wrecked and soaked. Then, he grabs onto your ankles, pushes your knees up to your chest, and pounds into you like he wants to rearrange your guts.

“You think I’m done with you?” he pants, sweat dripping from his gloriously chiselled jaw. “You don’t get to tap out, baby. Not until this pussy’s leaking and wrecked.”

Your body arches, not just from his actions, but also his words. It’s too much, everything is too much; it’s perfect.

When you start sobbing from pleasure again, he slows his pace, not out of mercy, but out of sheer cruelty. He grinds his hips into you slowly now, deep, torturously slow, rolling his hips stupidly slow to make you feel every thick inch of him.

“Yeah, cry for me,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. “My perfect little slut. My hole to breed.”

And then, with a snarl and a quick thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard—hot and endless, pulsing inside you. You feel it flood your cunt. You feel it stay.

He keeps you there, his cock still inside you, not letting it spill out.

“Keep it in,” he growls. “You don’t get to waste a drop.”

You're shaking, twitching, and barely breathing at this point. You are completely spent. He finally unties your wrists, relief flooding through your arms as you begin to regain feeling in them, and pulls you close.

“Shhh, you did so good,” he whispers, brushing sweaty hair from your forehead, lips kissing your temple. “Took everything like my perfect little cumslut.”

You whimper, weakly nuzzling into him. “I want more,” you whisper, wrecked.

He chuckles darkly.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

_______________________________

You’re still twitching.

You’re still flat on your back, legs splayed open, his cum slowly leaking from your overstretched pussy onto the filthy white sheets.

The room smells like sex—filthy sex. Your mascara is streaked down your cheeks, your lips swollen from biting them, your thighs red and slightly stinging from his hands. You’re wrecked.  And he’s watching you with that same dark, unrelenting hunger. That same look that has that familiar warmth pooling in your abdomen and your thighs twitching with want.

“Look at this mess,” Seungcheol murmurs, dragging a thumb through the slick trail of cum between your legs. “All of that, and you’re still not satisfied?”

You whimper, body flinching from the contact; you’re still far too sensitive, too raw, and yet your hips tilt up toward his hand unconsciously.

He smiles, slow and mean.

“Greedy little slut.”

You blink up at him, dazed, fucked-out, voice barely there and unrecognisable to you when you did speak. “Need more.”

“You need more?” he echoes, sharp and condescendingly, his cock already hard again in his fist, still glistening from the last round. “You’re dripping, baby. You’re full of me.”

You moan softly, back arching, thighs trembling.

He climbs onto the bed, settles between your legs again, and lines himself up again. “No begging this time,” he says, cockiness filling his raspy voice. “You already gave me permission.”

Then he pushes himself into you. You scream into the pillow he shoves over your mouth, muffling the sound as he sinks into your ruined hole, stretching you out all over again.

“Fuck, you’re still so fucking tight,” he groans. “Even after all that. Like this pussy was made to be used and fucked relentlessly.”

You squirm under him, your weak hands gripping the sheets, nails tearing at them, your mind shattering from the stretch. It’s too much, but you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispers, grabbing your throat and making you look at him. “Take it. Take it all. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to be my little cumdump.”

You nod, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. “Y-yes, sir.”

He spits in your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You do so, without hesitation.

He rewards you with a brutal thrust, then another—deep, sharp, unrelenting.

“You’re fucking addicted,” he growls, fucking you like he’s possessed. “To my cock. To being used. I could ruin you, and you thank me for it.”

You’re crying again, the cries are loud and desperate, and you’re even more soaked than you thought possible, practically begging him and babbling complete nonsense between moans.

“Please…please don’t stop, oh god, I can’t…I’m gonna-!”

“Then fucking cum,” he snarls. “Cum while I fuck another load into you. Show me how much this pussy needs to be bred.”

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up. You explode around him, convulsing so hard your legs go numb. Your scream is lost in the pillow. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release, slapping your ass hard when you whimper too much.

“You’re crying like you don’t love it,” he pants, his cock pulsing inside you. “But you do, don’t you? My perfect little slut.”

“Yes,” you sob. “I’m yours, and so is this pussy, forever and always”

Then he cums, burying himself deep and spilling another thick load inside you. Your body spasms, feeling it flood your cunt yet again, mixing with the last one. It's obscene. It's perfect.

And still… he doesn’t pull out. He stays there, inside you, his toned chest heaving with each breath, his hand stroking your cheek.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, slowly rolling his hips. “All that cum inside you?”

You nod, barely conscious. Just raw nerves and need.

“You’re gonna hold it,” he says. “Gonna sleep with it still inside.”

You tremble, fucked into obedience. Seungcheol finally lies down beside you, pulling you onto his chest, still fully sheathed in your throbbing, overstimulated hole.

You don’t even have words. Just breathless, broken whimpers.

He kisses your hair.

“Still want to act like a brat, baby?”

You shake your head slowly.

He chuckles. “Good girl.”

There's a slight pause. Then…

“…But if you do, just know—I love punishing you.”

And from the way your ruined hips roll forward just the slightest bit, still greedy for his touch and his cum, he knows you’re already planning your next mistake.

___________________________

The morning light is barely creeping through the blinds when you feel it. A familiar warmth pressed against your back, a familiar scent, the soft hum of Seungcheol’s breathing in your ear.

And then, his hand moves.

Your body is still trembling from last night’s punishment, but he’s already got you right where he wants you, his cock buried deep inside your pussy, soft and hard at the same time, like he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t.

You’re still too sensitive from everything he’s already done to you, your body still aching from the lightly forming bruises, your mind half-drowned in what he’s made you feel. And yet, your hips instinctively roll back toward him again, seeking the warmth of his body, the pressure of his cock buried deep inside you. You need him to fill you up again, and again.

You can feel the weight of him against your back, can feel the way his chest presses against your skin. His hand curls around your neck, holding you just right; not too tight, but enough that you begin feeling lightheaded.

“Still want more, baby?” Seungcheol asks, his voice a rasp in your ear.

You nod desperately. “Yes. Please. Please, Cheol…”

He hums low in his throat, the grip on your throat tightening slightly. His fingers dig into your skin, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Such a needy little slut. Always so greedy for me,” he murmurs, grinding his hips against your ass. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk. I’m going to fill you up again. And you’re going to take it, like the little slut you are.”

You whimper, your legs so, so weak, but you lift them anyway, spreading your knees apart, offering yourself to him. It’s nothing new at this point, he owns you. He’s already claimed you, and there’s no going back.

With one smooth motion, he pulls back and then thrusts deep into you, filling you up completely. You gasp, the sensation of being so full overwhelming, even if he had just rearranged your guts not even 12 hours earlier. Your body shudders, feeling every inch of him inside you.

“You still take me so well,” Seungcheol groans, one hand moving to your waist, holding you down as he starts to fuck you slowly and steadily. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. You’re my perfect little hole, aren’t you?”

You moan, the words coming out of your swollen lips before you even think. “Yes… I’m yours. Always yours.”

He groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your waist. “That’s right. Don’t you forget it.”

The grip on your neck tightens again, just enough to make your head spin. You start to tremble again, overwhelmed by the sensations, by the ache between your legs, the way his cock fills you, the way he fucks you like he owns you.

And then, without warning, he pulls out. You’re left gasping and whining, on the edge of something, desperate for more. But he isn’t finished with you yet.

He slides his fingers down to your ass, teasing you, rubbing gently at your hole, before pushing one finger inside, stretching you open. You gasp, your body already on edge, and you can hear him chuckle darkly behind you.

“Can’t even take one finger? You’re so fucking weak,” he mutters, adding another finger. He works you open slowly, teasing, as you squirm beneath him.

“Cheol, please,” you beg, wanting to feel more. You want it, need it. Him.

He grins against your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby?” His voice is low, teasing. “Want me to stretch you out? Use your ass like the dirty little slut you are?”

“Yes, yes!” you cry, desperate. “Please, Cheol, I need you. All of you.”

He laughs darkly, his fingers still working you open, preparing you. “So fucking greedy. You don’t even care, do you?”

“No,” you pant. “Just want you… want you to fill me.”

“I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, maybe another time” his voice is low as he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the messy sheets, his hands then coming back to your flesh and letting his fingertips glide over it, sending goosebumps along your skin.

He shifts you onto your stomach, spreading your legs apart. You feel the coolness of the sheets against your skin, your body still weak, but you can’t stop shaking with need. You don’t want him to stop. You want everything he’s willing to give you.

Seungcheol positions himself behind you, one hand wrapping around your throat again, the other guiding his cock to your wet, stretched hole. He grinds against you, feeling the slickness of your body, the warmth of your skin. He leans forward, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I’m not stopping this time. You’re going to take all of me,” he whispers. “And you’re going to keep taking it. Got it?”

You nod numbly, your body trembling in anticipation.

“Answer me,” he demands, voice rough. “Got it?”

“Yes, yes! I’ll take it, Cheol. I’ll take everything.”

With a groan, he thrusts into you again, hard and deep. Your body jerks forward at the impact, your breath caught in your throat. The force of his thrusts makes your body rock against the bed, and you feel the sting of the slap he lands on your ass, the hot burn of it making your skin tingle.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me,” he growls, fucking you relentlessly. “Look at you. Taking it all, like the whore you are.”

You can’t hold back anymore. You’re crying, your tears soaking into the sheets, your body shaking with every thrust. The pleasure is too much, overwhelming you.

He slaps your ass again, harder this time. “You’re such a good slut. Taking everything I give you. You’re going to be dripping for days. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Cheol. I understand.”

He leans forward, thrusting harder, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place. “Good. Now, let me fill you up. Let me make you mine.”

He thrusts into you one final time, his cock buried deep inside you as he cums again. The feeling of him filling you up makes your body shake, a sob escaping your lips as you come undone once again, the sensations overwhelming.

And when he’s done, he stays there, deep inside you, for a long moment. You’re trembling, exhausted, but still so needy. Still greedy for more of him.

He pulls out slowly, then shifts to pull you close to him, wrapping you in his arms.

“You’re still mine,” he whispers against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

[casuallyanidiot]

Exclusive Content

Yandere Vlogger x AFAB Reader

Follow up to this

TW. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ! MDNI ! Noncon, captivity, spanking, anal, bondage, voyeurism, edging (you don't get to finish)

You're captor loves giving the fans what they want!

“You don’t have to cry when you’re not on camera, you know.”

Tears dribbled down your cheeks as you curled up into a little ball. Your hands were wrapped in soft mittens, making them basically unusable. You sniffled and wiped your face. It was humiliating. You were practically nude save for the collar around your neck and the stockings clinging to your upper thighs.

“Seriously,” He sighed and wrapped his large hand around your ankle, yanking you across the mattress until you were seated at the edge where all the cameras were pointed to. “You’ve got to save your energy,” He chided and smoothed out your hair a bit. He wiped at your ruddy face, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Although… yeah keep pouting like that,” he groaned and pulled out the handheld. He zoomed the lens in on your fearful expressions. His breathing became ragged. As he held your face in his palm, squishing your cheeks and turning your head in various directions. A bit of drool slipped past your lips, and you let out a tiny sob. “Fuckkkk you’re perfect. You’re my perfect little thing aren’t you?” His thumb worked his way past your teeth, chuckling softly as he smeared spit over your puffy lips.

The world spun as you were forced over, your hips propped up on a pillow. You let out a strangled cry as he grabbed a handful of your ass. He quickly worked to strap your arms to be folded together behind your back, making it arch almost painfully. He spread the globes of your ass open, and you whimpered at the feeling. Normally he’d keep you stuffed with toys, making a show of how gaped you could become afterwards, but today was different. You shuffled a bit to see what he was preparing, and you yelped at the feeling of cool lube being poured onto your skin. You tried to shut your thighs, but he kept them open as he began to work his fingers into you. You moaned soon after, your eyes fluttering as the sounds of your cunt being pumped into sounded out.

“We got- fuck- we got a request to have you be spanked and then do a bit of anal. They said- said not to touch your clit or anything. So unfair haha. Our viewers have gotten so mean lately. I think they like seeing you all scared. But you don’t have to be scared with me, baby. No no no, You’ve just got to relax so I can keep taking care of us.”

It shouldn’t feel this bad, or any more bad than being kidnapped and fucked mercilessly on a daily basis would. But no, no he made you read all the things people said about you. About him. They didn’t think this was real, and if they did, then they probably were getting off on the idea that you were being held captive. You had tried to call out for help once in a video, but when people said your screams were too realistic, he started to gag you for a while after that. It was a project, this wasn’t actually your life, he was a good partner, you were a good actor: All things people said instead of actually helping you. And now you were stuck having your ass spread for whoever would pay the most, just because he couldn’t deal with the reality that this was anything but your worst nightmare.

In the last few weeks, your captor had been filming nearly every moment of your life. You’d be convinced that he got some sick pleasure from documenting every scream and tearful breakdown, but you knew better. Sure, he liked it, but he mainly did it because of his damn viewers. You were sure that we wouldn’t even have your thighs open and down if it wasn’t for a good chunk of those sick fucks practically begging to see him fuck you on a near daily basis, but then again he was literally your kidnapper so you couldn’t say anything for certain anymore.

You squealed as he brought his hand down. The resounding crack was followed by a burning sting. You didn’t have a moment to breathe before he smacked you again, and again until your backside was on fire and bruised. Your tears stained the pillow as you whimpered, and he reached forward, petting your lower back like one would a frightened animal.

“There we go. You did so good.” 

He had to gag you before starting to actual fuck you. He was running his fingers over your scalp as if it would make anything better. His cock was stretching out your asshole in a way that felt all too wrong and full. You gurgled pathetically as he shallowly thrust into you. It didn’t even feel all that good, but he was moaning like you had handed him heaven on a silver platter.

“Mngh! H-hah d-don’t worry baby- I’ll touch your pussy as much as you want after this,” he whispered mischievously as he pressed a kiss behind your ear. You sobbed at the thought of letting him anywhere near your other hole, but you were leaking all over the sheets at the moment. And your cunt was positively aching to have attention paid to it. You winced as he grew more frantic in pacing, finally spilling deep within your clenching ass. You made a pathetic whine as he stilled within you, spanking your ass a few more times as he rolled his hips almost teasingly before pulling out. He panted as he hooked his finger in the rim of your asshole and pulled it to the side so the camera could capture the way his cum leaked out.

“Okay! And that should be good for now,” he sighed, throwing his head back and running his hand through his hair. “Man, baby, you’re so fucking tight down here. I thought you were gonna rip my dick off haha,” he laughed breathlessly and unbuckled the gag. He massaged your jaw as you slumped forward.

“I know, I know. You don’t like being shut up like that… but I really kind of have to. I mean, It’s not exactly hot when you’re screaming for help all the time,” He said and started to review the footage while his other hand reached down and started to tease your clit again. You jumped at his touch, but as humiliated as you were, you were so embarrassingly horny that you simply bit into the sheets beneath you to stop the humiliating noises from spilling out.

One maddeningly slow circle at a time. You grunted softly, and he let out a whistle. “ You know, I’m so glad I get to do this with you. I’m really lucky. Most people can’t make a living from loving their partner all the time like we do.”

He slipped a finger in, and you rolled your hips desperately to meet the friction.

“It just sucks that so many people want me to be mean to you. Hah… I guess we should be grateful, huh? You’re so cute… it’s no wonder people want to bully you…” He trailed off before kneeling down between your legs. He hummed appreciatively as his hand worked on your entrance, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He smiled, and you felt his breath on your sensitive folds before you could help yourself. You yelped a bit as he groaned into your pussy, his tongue stroking and slurping eagerly. You keened softly as you bucked your hips, trying to grind on his nose. You could feel the heat coiling in your belly as you panted and trembled. Finally, after all that fucking bullshit, you were gonna cum. 

And then, all of a sudden, his touch was gone. 

You blinked for a moment, before tears of frustration gathered in your eyes. You let out a wail as you writhed, trying desperately to find the sweet friction you needed to finish, but he merely placed a hand on your lower back.

“Oh? Hold up…”

You craned your neck to the side as tears slipped down your face, and you paled as you saw his expression. He was smiling, almost cruelly as he rubbed your back in a sympathetic way.

“Sorry baby. We just got another request. A bunch of nipple play this time. My viewers are so weird haha. Anyways, I promise I’ll let you cum for real afterwards as a reward,” he assured you, and you whimpered as he loomed over you, fixing the camera to start the whole ordeal all over again with a wicked glint in his eye. You let out a terrified squeak. As much as you and him blamed the people who paid for these stupid videos, you didn’t think that anyone who didn’t enjoy their job would look so gleeful about it at the same time.

[xiaberryy]

“Pip-squeak..” Caleb cooed softly, warm large hand sneaking quietly to rest atop of her thigh. his calloused palm sent shivers down her spine, rushing blood to her soft cheeks.

steady, observant gaze relentlessly conveyed fondness and understanding. meanwhile, the object of his attention was stubbornly looking away with jutted out lips.

Caleb let out a soft chuckle before he gently wrapped his arm around her waist. in a swift movement, she found herself sat on his lap.

“Caleb, you—!” her protests died down in front of Caleb’s teasing and satisfied grin.

with easy familiarity, he ruffled the crown of her head, “finally feeling like talking to me, princess?”

her eyebrows twitched. creases formed on her forehead owing to how hard she was frowning, “don’t think you can princess me and get away with everything, Caleb.”

the rapid thumping inside her ribs betrayed her words. she absolutely knew how embarrassingly easy she crumbles at mere crumbs of his affection.

Caleb smiled apologetically. his hand which still has receptors sensitive enough to feel her skin, rubbed her arm.

“i’m all yours now, princess. i promise no more impromptu fleet businesses that takes me away from my sweet girl,”

she stayed silent, lips jutted out further as she fidgeted with the hands she rested on her lap. a few seconds passed by and she hasn’t made an effort to move the muscles of her mouth to speak.

Caleb began to worry. he worried that this time he might’ve done an irreparable damage to the fragile little heart of this girl he’s coddled since childhood.

“Pip—“ his words got caught in his throat when fat blobs of tears trickled down her reddened cheeks.

“hic..stupid Caleb..” choked sobs escaped her. those sounds formed into arrows that shot him right in the heart. guilt consumed him. however, the pain of guilt wasn’t the only cause of his erratic heartbeat.

he swallowed his saliva. his hands trembled slightly before pulling her into his arms.

“you’re right, i’m stupid. i’m a big dummy that left my princess all alone. you were lonely, weren’t you, pretty girl?“ he cooed softly as he tightened the embrace he had her in.

his head was spinning. the girl sobbing in his arms was too adorable with those watery eyes, tear stricken face, and wet eyelashes. he knows it’s fucked up to make his beloved cry and enjoy it so much, but who could blame him when she’s such a pretty crier?

“Caleb is so sorry, hm? you can hit him if you want, princess,” he guided her hand to his chest.

however, instead of hitting him, she cried harder. “don’t wanna! why would i hurt you? you’re so annoying!!” screamed her while she snatched her hand away from his momentarily loose grip.

he forcefully tucked his lips in to stop himself from grinning like a maniac. she loves him enough to refuse hurting him even after the pain and loneliness he put her through? what a sweetheart.

abruptly, he stood up and carried her in his arms. a loud yelp left her as she immediately latched onto his neck for support.

“what the hell are you doing?!” she tried her best to glare at him despite the tears clouding her vision.

Caleb grinned, “you used to love being carried around. you’d always calm down when i rock you in my arms like this,” said him as he began rocking her like a baby and spinning her around.

a loud, high-pitched squeal left her when he began spinning around faster, “Caleb, put me down!”

her yells and his laughter blended together that evening. the windows of his current house is larger than the ones in their old house. the orange sun rays which casted its warm glow across the house interior was brighter, being on a floating island nearer to the sky and all. the person in his arms has now matured, only the familiar warmth in his chest remained unchanged. so, he’ll bask in the feeling of being 12, holding 10 year old her in his embrace again.

[dragoneyelashart]

ride or cry (that is the stupidest name i've ever come up with, just go with it)

authors note: i finally wrote something other than angst (everyone cheer) warnings: smut

you were splayed out on silk pillows, hair a messy halo around you, skin slick with sweat, chest heaving. before getting bored and wanting to go annoy your girlfriend. bad idea though. billie had been edging you for hours making you grind down on her thigh while she worked, pulling you back every time you got too close. her fingers have been tracing slow, maddening patterns along your sides, lips brushing against the crook of your neck in teasing, featherlight kisses.

you whimper into her ear, hips stuttering as you press harder against her thigh, making the mess between your legs even more unbearable.

“you know, baby…” she murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, “i think you like when i tease you. hm?”

you nod helplessly, not even fully hearing her words—just chasing that high she keeps dangling in front of you.

“mommy, please…” you breathe, voice wrecked, trembling with need. “i just wanna be good for you…” she sighs, almost lazily, like she’s thinking about it. “mmm, but mommy’s tired…” she drawls, though there’s no real bite behind the words.

“please,” you beg, hips shifting uncontrollably, like they’re acting on instinct alone. “it hurts, i need you so bad, mommy…”

she clicks her tongue, eyes dark with faux pity. “tsk… my poor baby,” she whispers, brushing her fingers over your flushed cheek. “alright. come on, then.”

you climb onto her lap, shaky hands bracing against her shoulders. she holds you steady, her palm at your lower back, guiding you down slowly onto her length. you gasp, body arching as she fills you, the stretch making your thighs quake from overstimulation. you pause, breathing hard, letting yourself adjust before your hips start to roll. needy, languid, desperate. soft moans slip from your lips, little breathy whines that go straight to her core. billie watches you like you're a masterpiece, every twitch of your muscles, every trembling exhale, every inch of you unraveling just for her. “mommy… m’tired…” you whimper, voice barely there, cracked and aching. “need your help…” she smiles, sweet, slow, merciless, and wipes the sweat from your brow with her thumb. “mommy told you she was tired, didn’t she?” she coos. “come on, sweet girl. take what you need.”

you sob quietly, overwhelmed, but you obey, hips bouncing, rhythm messy and frantic now. the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room as you ride her, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. her hands rest on your waist, firm but not guiding, just watching you struggle, suffer, need.

your rhythm falters. thighs trembling, breath catching, your body shakes with effort, but you don’t stop. you can’t. you’ve been on edge for so long, and you're so close now you can taste it.

“that’s it, baby,” she whispers, voice low and velvety. “look at you, riding mommy’s cock like a good little slut. so desperate…” you choke on a moan, head falling to her shoulder, clutching at her like you might shatter. your muscles are screaming, nerves sparking, tension coiled so tight it’s almost unbearable.

“can’t- can’t do it, mommy,” you cry out, voice cracking as the tears finally spill. “too much… hurts…” she lifts your chin, forces your glassy eyes to meet hers. “thought you wanted to be good for me, baby?” she breathes. “thought you loved being mommy’s little whore…”

you nod, barely, tears spilling freely now, lips parted in a soft, gasping plea. “i do… i do, mommy,” you sob. “fuck, need you mommy please just wanna be good…”

she hums, almost lovingly, and one hand moves down, fingers sliding between your legs. they find your swollen clit with practiced ease, rubbing slow, torturous circles. you moan out, hips jerking wildly, movements turning feral, desperate. “there you go,” she whispers, eyes locked on your wrecked face. "that’s it. show me how much of a slut you are for mommy."

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @giannaeilish @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[strangerexee]

ᴍɪᴄ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ, ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ | ꜰᴀᴍᴏᴜꜱ ꜱɪɴɢᴇʀ!ꜱᴀᴍᴍɪᴇ ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝙰𝚄: 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 | 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚁&𝙱 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚎

Pairings: Sammie Moore x black!reader

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : (𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜)

You were embarrassing.

You knew it.

Sweating under the stage lights, your phone gripped in both hands like your life depended on it, scream-singing along to every word like your soul might exit your body from pure, unfiltered thirst.

Because Sammie Moore was right there.

Fine as all hell.

Dripping sweat.

Voice deeper than sin itself.

His chain glittered under the stage lights, swinging every time he leaned forward and dragged those thick, ringed fingers down the mic stand. His shirt was half open. His skin glistened.

And God help you, you had no dignity.

You were screaming so hard you couldn’t even record.

Voice cracked. Makeup surprisingly not melting. Hair sticking to your neck.

But it didn’t matter.

Because you were at the front.

At a Sammie Moore concert.

And you’d never wanted a man more in your whole damn life.

The crowd swayed like ocean waves behind you, arms raised, girls crying, some throwing bras. Sammie walked slow across the stage, drinking from a bottle of water, that voice of his curling around lyrics like smoke. Like velvet dragged over your spine.

He looked good.

Too good.

Painfully good.

And then — Lord, then — he stopped singing.

Paused, lifted his mic.

“I got one question,” he said, deep voice rich like heat.

The whole crowd screamed.

“Who want a kiss?”

Bitch.

The way every hand shot up — like a coordinated attack.

You raised yours too — screaming like your life depended on it, half laughing, tears in your lashes from sheer embarrassment. Your phone was long forgotten. You were just pointing up, jumping like a damn idiot, yelling:

“ME! ME! OH MY GOD, ME PLEASE!”

He looked around. Took his sweet time. Eyes dark. Smiling low like he knew he had y’all wrapped around his finger.

And then — oh my god.

His eyes landed on you.

Not just glanced. Locked.

And that smile —

The cocky, tilted smirk with the dimples and everything —

That was for you.

“You.”

He pointed.

“Come here, baby.”

The security guard was at you before your brain even registered what was happening. You gasped. Sputtered. Let yourself be helped up and over the barricade while the entire front row screamed.

You were shaking.

You were sweating.

You were convinced your soul had just left your damn body.

Sammie watched you walk up — real slow — and you swear you almost tripped on air when he leaned down with the mic and whispered into it —

“Don’t be shy now, baby. C’mon.”

When you made it to the stage, he stepped forward and took your hand.

His palm was warm.

His fingers curled around yours like it was normal. Like this wasn’t the craziest thing to ever happen to you in your whole damn life.

He leaned in close — way too close — and brushed his lips near your ear.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

You told him.

“Mmm. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The crowd was SCREAMING.

You were DEAD.

And then — then.

He cupped your cheek with one hand, tilted your chin up, and kissed you.

On the mouth.

Not a peck.

Not a polite little brush.

No — Sammie kissed you like he meant it.

Like he’d been thinking about it.

Like it wasn’t just a stage bit.

His lips were warm. Slow. The kind of kiss that melted your knees. His hand slid down to your jaw, holding you in place, and his mouth lingered—just long enough to steal your breath — he had you squealing against his lips.

When he pulled back, your eyes were wide and glassy, and his thumb brushed under your lip like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted.

He still had the mic in one hand.

“Y’all saw that?” he asked, turning to the crowd. “She sweet as hell.”

You covered your face, sobbing. Literally sobbing.

He laughed.

Real, deep, low in his chest.

Then leaned back in.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered against your ear, so low it didn’t even hit the mic, “I’b be crying too.”

When you were led back down to the crowd, every girl around you looked shook.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Your lips still tingled.

Your hand — he held your hand.

Sammie winked at you once more before turning back to the mic.

And you?

You were a goner.

Js wanna say thank y’all for 1k followers — just got like 900 more strange-babies — preciate all the loveeee — all yall comments and reblogs bring me so much motivation…I love you guys especially the anons and my moots🫶🏽💕 and my wife (she don’t know we married on the low — @pinkpantheris )

[snottyped]

I looovvedd your ghost x reader fic. Will you do a part two..?🥹🥺🙏

haunted part two

ghost x female reader nsfw

You thought it was over.

The candles stayed cold. No whispers in the walls. No pressure in your bed. You even let someone else take you out—kiss you, touch you. You wanted to believe he was finally gone.

But tonight… the lights flicker.

And your breath stills.

Your bedroom grows cold—not from the breeze, but from him. That heavy silence. That airless pressure. That feeling of being watched from every corner. You sit up, heart hammering, and whisper, “…Daddy?”

A low voice purrs in your ear, right beside you.

“You let someone else touch what’s mine?”

You gasp—he’s already in your bed, invisible, but his hands are on you. Rough. Familiar. Perfect. Gripping your thighs like he never left. Like your body still remembers everything.

“P-Please,” you breathe, “I thought you—”

“You thought wrong, baby.”

A hand wraps around your throat. Not choking—yet—but firm. Possessive. Another hand slips between your thighs, and you feel it—ghost-cold at first, but warming as he presses his fingers into your soaked heat.

“So wet already,” he growls. “Was that for him or me?”

Your hips jerk.

“Thought so. You don’t drip like this for boys. You do it for Daddy.”

You bite your lip as your back arches—his fingers inside you now, working you open like he never stopped learning you. Like even in death, he remembers your body better than you do.

“Did he even fuck you right?” he snarls. “Or did he just rut on top of you like a little boy who didn’t know what to do with a pretty pussy?”

You whimper.

“He didn’t make you come, did he?”

You shake your head. “No. Only y—you—”

Suddenly, he’s inside you. Not fingers—his cock. Thick, overwhelming, stretching you open as you gasp. You can’t see him, but he’s there—his weight heavy over you, voice dark and hungry.

“That’s right,” he whispers, thrusting slow and deep. “Only Daddy. Say it.”

“Only you,” you sob. “Only Daddy—fuck—”

He slams into you harder.

“That’s my girl.”

Your legs are spread, bent, helpless. He fucks you like he’s trying to reclaim what you dared offer to someone else—hard, deep strokes that leave you gasping, body slick and clenching around him.

You feel his breath against your neck, even if he has no lungs.

“You tried to move on,” he growls. “You wore that little dress I liked, didn’t you? Let him stare at your tits, your ass, thinking he had a chance?”

His hands are everywhere. On your throat. Your chest. One slips under your shirt, groping your breasts with greedy, ghost-touch fingers that pinch your nipples until you cry out.

“Did he touch these? Fuck no, he didn’t. These are mine.”

Your head spins. The rhythm is merciless—perfect. Like he’s fucking the memory of every other man out of you. Like he won’t stop until there’s nothing left of you that hasn’t come from him.

“You gonna cry, baby?”

You’re close. Too close. Your body jerks under him, heels digging into the bed, fingernails scraping at the sheets as he slams into you faster.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up. You want that, slut? Want me to ruin you again?”

“Yes—yes, please—fuck me, fill me—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Daddy—please, I’m sorry—I missed you, I need it—”

“Then take it.”

He slams in deep—and holds. You feel it—hot, sudden, flooding. You swear you feel his cock pulsing, stretching you, creaming your insides with phantom seed.

You scream, body locking up as your orgasm wrecks you.

It’s too much. He doesn’t stop. His cock stays hard inside you, already thrusting again.

“One more,” he pants. “You don’t get to run, baby. Not ‘til Daddy’s done.”

You sob his name, overstimulated, split open, body trembling as he fucks a second orgasm out of you, chasing his own again. His voice never stops—filthy, loving, cruel.

“Good fucking girl. Take it. Open for me. Let me haunt this pussy ‘til you can’t forget.”

You break. Again. And a thousand more if Daddy says so.

[cheftsunoda]

heal your heart—cl16

part three (very wordy AGAIN)

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

⚠️ATTENTION : TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of depression, abuse, kidnapping. ⚠️

part one here

part two here

—

catluvsyou

liked by charles_leclerc, lando, iamrebeccad & 4,485,493 others.

catluvsyou : healing is hard- especially when part of you still feels torn open. i will not answer any questions at this time but i really appreciate all the support and love i have been shown. i also need to say the biggest thank you to my friends and family who have loved me through some of the worst parts.

username00 : no bc the image of her crying BROKE ME but then i saw charles on the piano and my heart said okay maybe there’s hope

usernameee : this is grief. this is survival. this is poetry. this is also charles leclerc and i am not okay about it

username20 : the mirror selfies are all taken in charles' house

lilymhe : the prettiest and strongest angel. we got you.

liked by author

username7 : slide one made me cry, slide four made me scream, slide six made me sob. give this woman a hug and a publishing deal.

username10 : her crying photo??? that wasn’t a post. that was a plea. and i hear her. i see her. i’m crying at work.

iamrebeccad : love you to the moon and back- strongest person i know.

liked by author

username0 : this is less “photo dump” and more “emotionally raw scrapbook entry with a dash of piano boy” and i’m HERE for it

username5 : she gave us heartbreak, healing, piano romance, AND mountain girl rebirth??? a saga. a life story. a manifesto.

charles_leclerc : tu possèdes une force incroyable. je prendrai toujours soin de toi.

liked by author

username000 : quick some french person tell me what he said PLS

username20 : you possess an incredible strength. i will always care for you

username000: ardfkjalmffsfajskhd

username15 : OMG

lewishamilton : Sending love and strength. Healing isn’t linear—be kind to yourself.

liked by author

lando : Love you always, bug. You are so so strong.

liked by author

pierregasly : Kika and I will be over sometime today with gifts:)

liked by author

kikagomes : and CAKE!!

liked by author

carmenmmundt : True strength looks like this. You’re incredible. Please take care of yourself.

liked by author

oscarpiastri : Quiet strength is the loudest kind. Rooting for you always.

liked by author

alexalbon : The strongest ever. I have your back. Always.

liked by author

—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Catalina Sainz has broken her silence...sort of. The popstar and sister to Williams driver Carlos Sainz posted a deeply personal “healing dump” to Instagram this morning, featuring tearful selfies, peaceful scenery, and what fans are 99% sure is CHARLES LECLERC at a piano in slide four.

Catalina wrote, "healing is hard- especially when part of you still feels torn open. i will not answer any questions at this time but i really appreciate all the support and love i have been shown. i also need to say the biggest thank you to my friends and family who have loved me through some of the worst parts."

Many WAGS and members of the F1 grid were in the comments including none other than Charles Leclerc himself, writing, "you possess an incredible strength. i will always care for you" in French.

Let us know your thoughts!

username00 : honestly catalina is out here surviving a trauma and all some of y’all can do is zoom in on wrists and watches… (but also it’s definitely charles)

username10 : why does it feel like she just posted the first chapter of a novel i’m already deeply invested in

username5 : healing is hard, yes, but healing with leclerc at your piano and sainz threatening international violence on your behalf??? couldn’t be me but i deeply admire

username7 : this entire season is just trauma, pianos, and deeply repressed European emotions. 10/10 would watch again.

usernameee : just say the word, catalina. we will ruin him on the timeline in 12 minutes flat.

username000 : no interaction from carlos at ALL that man is busy destroying someone

—

It had been a few days since the race. Charles and I were back at his in Monaco. He had been an absolute saint. He held me when I needed it, gave me space when needed, wrote and produced songs with me to get everything out, sat there and ate every meal with me so he knew I ate. I don't know if I could have made it these last few days without him. I have been so anxious to hear from Carlos and hopeful to see my son soon. I knew Carlos would not leave without him. He was - to say the least- determined. Charles insisted on getting me out of the house and into some nature today. Kika and Pierre were coming over tonight and while I am excited to see them- I do not know if I am in the best spot for guests right now. My PR team had forced me to post — at least making it known that I was alive…even though I didn’t feel like it. I sighed heavily staring at the spot in bed where Charles had just been. He left to get us some breakfast and said he 'got something special for me.' I throw myself out of the bed and head towards the bathroom. I turn on the shower and strip off Charles' T-Shirt and throw my hair up in a ponytail. Once I am out I do my bare minimum skin care and throw on one of his hoodies and some leggings. I go out and sit in the living room glancing out at the Marina. I hear a jingle of keys in the door and it opens and closes. Charles stood with a smile with two coffees in his hands.

"There's that beautiful face." He said with a mischievous grin on his face.

I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.

“Charles.”

He walks toward me, setting the coffee down on the table. “Okay, but in my defense—he was very persuasive.”

Before I can ask who, he unzips the front pocket of his jacket… and out pops the tiniest dachshund I have ever seen.

A literal puppy. A wriggling, sleepy-eyed, cinnamon roll of a dachshund. His ears are floppy. His paws are too big. His tail does a lazy little wag, like he’s still deciding how he feels about this whole waking up thing.

I stare at them both.

“You brought home… a dog. In your coat.”

Charles shrugs. “Technically he brought me home. Found him outside the café. No collar. No chip. The barista said he’d been sleeping under a chair for hours. And I—” he pauses, eyes flicking to mine—“I didn’t want you to wake up to silence again.”

My chest caves a little.

The puppy whines, wiggling his way down from Charles’ arms onto the couch beside me like he’s always belonged here. He sniffs my leg, yawns dramatically, then curls up right against my thigh. I run a shaking hand over his tiny head.

“I don’t even know how to take care of myself right now,” I whisper.

“I know,” Charles says quietly. “But I am here to take care of both of you."

I swallow the lump in my throat. The puppy lets out a tiny snore. Charles hands me my coffee like it’s the most normal morning in the world. And somehow—despite everything—I smile.

—

Kika is sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island, stealing olives straight from the dish while Pierre argues with Charles (in french) about the “correct” way to make garlic prawns. There’s music playing — something soft and jazzy — and for the first time in what feels like centuries, I’m laughing without guilt. It’s warm here. The air smells like garlic and lemon and something sweet baking in the oven. Kika’s telling me a ridiculous story about an afterparty in Monaco and miming Lando’s drunk dance moves when Charles comes up behind me and rests his hand at the small of my back. Just a small gesture. But it grounds me. Leo — now inseparable from me — is snuggled in a pile of blankets at my feet, snoring softly. I don’t realize my phone is ringing until Kika gently nudges my arm.

“It’s buzzing, babe.”

I glance at the screen, expecting another message from Rebecca or maybe Arthur sending a meme he shouldn’t. But it’s not.

It’s Carlos. My heart stumbles. I freeze. Everything else — the wine, the laughter, the lightness — evaporates in a second.

Charles notices immediately. He steps closer. “Do you want me to—?”

I shake my head and answer, walking quietly toward the balcony and sliding the door closed behind me.

“Carlos?” My voice cracks just on his name.

His breath is shaky through the line.

“Cat,” he says, and his voice is trembling, a little breathless. “You need to get on a flight. Now. Come to Madrid. Come to the house.”

“What—?”

He cuts me off.

“It’s him,” Carlos says, and I can hear the tears in his voice. “They found Mateo. He’s safe. He’s safe, Catalina. He’s coming home.”

The world tilts. My knees go out from under me and I grab the balcony railing to keep from falling.

“He’s—?”

“Alive. Okay. Scared. But okay.”

I’m already moving. Back through the door. Charles is on his feet before I even say a word, his eyes locked on mine.

“I have to go,” I breathe, my chest barely able to contain the sound. “Carlos—Mateo—he’s been found. I need to get to Madrid. Now.”

Charles doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll get a jet. Come on.”

Kika gasps behind me, tears already spilling. Pierre quietly steps in to grab my coat and my purse. I gently pick up Leo and put him in my purse, his little face sticking out the top. Kika and Pierre both hug me and press kisses to my cheeks.

"Go get your boy." She said with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

Everything is a blur. But underneath the shaking, the panic, the fear, there’s something I haven’t felt in so long I barely recognize it. Hope.

—

The plane is humming softly beneath us. Everything outside the window is dark ink black, velvet sky. The stars feel too far away tonight. Charles is sitting beside me, his hand covering mine. He hasn’t let go since the car ride to the airport. His thumb moves in small, slow circles over my knuckles. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. I’ve barely spoken since the call. My body is still moving, but my heart is somewhere else—somewhere back in Madrid, reaching for my son with every breath. He’s alive. I keep repeating it in my head like a prayer. He’s alive. He’s alive. Mateo is alive. I don’t realize I’m crying again until Charles reaches up and wipes my cheek gently with the sleeve of his hoodie. His eyes are soft when they meet mine, and there’s no pity there—just presence. Just him.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispers.

“I feel like I’m going to fall apart.”

“If you do,” he says, “I’ll be here to help put the pieces back together.”

I look at him then, really look. His hair is messy from the wind. He didn’t pack anything — just came with me, like it was never even a question. Like his place was beside me, without asking for anything in return. My chest tightens.

“Charles?”

He turns toward me, brow furrowing gently. “Yes?”

I hesitate. The words scrape on the way out.

“Will you stay?” I whisper. “Not just for the flight. I mean… once we’re there. After I see Mateo. After the storm. Will you still be there?”

His hand moves to cup the side of my face, thumb brushing just under my eye.

“There’s nowhere else I want to be,” he says softly. “As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

And something in me — something hard and scared and bracing for impact — unclenches. I lean into his hand. And for the first time since everything shattered, I believe I might be able to feel whole again. Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe someday. And maybe with him.

—

The sky is bleeding pale pink and gold as the car rolls to a stop in front of my parents’ house. I haven’t slept. I don’t think I’ve even blinked since the call. My hands won’t stop shaking. Charles hasn’t let go of me once. Not in the car. Not at the airport. Not even now, as Carlos steps out from the front porch and rushes toward us. His face is worn, sleepless. But there’s something else in his eyes. Something like awe. He pulls open the car door and helps me to my feet before pulling me into a hug.

“They’re inside,” he says, and I barely register the they until he adds: “Mamá, Papá… and Mateo. He’s awake. He’s been looking around for you.”

The world tilts beneath my feet.

Charles tightens his grip on my hand. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I nod. I can’t say the word. My chest is too full. My throat too raw. The front door opens, and we step into the hallway I haven’t walked through in over a year. Everything smells like coffee and lemon soap. Like comfort. Like a memory I didn’t trust myself to hope for again. Then I hear it. A soft babble. A whimper. The shuffle of tiny feet on hardwood. And I run. Through the hallway, around the corner — and there, standing on unsure little legs, clinging to the coffee table, is my son. Mateo. His curls are longer, wilder. His cheeks round and flushed. He’s holding the stuffed fox he never used to sleep without. There’s a little bruise on his knee. A scratch above his eyebrow. But he’s standing. Breathing. Alive. He looks up, blinking at me with those deep, dark eyes that are unmistakably mine. And then—

“Mama?”

The tiniest, hoarsest whisper.

I collapse to my knees as the sob shreds out of me. “Hi, baby,” I gasp. “Hi, my sweet boy. Mama’s here. I’m here.”

He stumbles toward me and throws his little arms around my neck. I cradle him to my chest, my hand splayed over his back, my lips pressed to every inch of his skin I can reach — his hair, his forehead, his cheek, his tiny shoulder. His weight in my arms feels like resurrection. Charles kneels quietly beside us. I feel his hand at my back — not trying to share the moment, not intruding. Just grounding me. Holding me in case I fall apart. Mateo lifts his head and looks at Charles, blinking curiously. Then, without hesitation, he reaches one pudgy hand out and gently touches Charles’ cheek. My breath hitches.

Charles smiles, soft. “Bonjour, petit,” he whispers.

Mateo giggles. Just once. A perfect, bright little sound. And in that moment — with my son safe in my arms and Charles beside me — I finally let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay.

—

The house is still now. The kind of still that only comes after a storm has passed. That breathless hush where no one dares move too quickly in case it all disappears again. Mateo is tucked into my chest, warm and heavy with sleep, his breath soft against my neck. I’m sitting in the old rocking chair in my childhood bedroom, the same one Mamá used to rock Carlos and me in when we were sick or scared. Charles is stretched out on the floor nearby, one arm tucked under his head, watching us. The lamp beside me casts a golden halo over him. His curls are slightly tousled, his eyes soft and endlessly patient.

“He used to fall asleep like this every night,” I whisper. “After a bottle, I’d hold him just like this until his little fingers relaxed.”

Charles doesn’t say anything right away. Just watches me with that quiet reverence I’ve come to rely on more than I care to admit.

“You’re amazing, you know,” he finally says.

I scoff under my breath, brushing Mateo’s hair back. “I don’t feel amazing. I feel broken. Guilty. Like I should’ve known something was wrong. Like I should’ve stopped it before—”

“Catalina.” His voice is firm but gentle. “You did the best you could with what you knew. And now you’re doing even more. You’re here. He’s safe. Because of you.”

I swallow hard. “I don’t know how to fix all the damage.”

“Start small,” he says. “Start with tonight. With holding him. With letting yourself be held too, when you need it.”

I meet his eyes. “Is that an offer?”

He smiles, slow and sure. “Always.”

—

The hallway creaks under my bare feet as I make my way to the kitchen. The house is dark except for the low hum of the fridge and the soft clink of a spoon against a mug. Mamá is sitting at the table. Papá stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. They both look up when I step in. My mother’s eyes shine, and before I can say anything, she’s on her feet, wrapping me in the kind of hug only a mother can give. One that forgives and aches and tries to make up for lost time all at once.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For keeping so much from you.”

She pulls back and holds my face between her hands. “No, mi amor. I’m sorry. That you felt like you had to.”

Papá steps forward and places a hand on my back. “Why didn’t you tell us, Cat?"

“I didn’t know how,” I admit. “I didn’t want you to see how bad it had gotten. I didn’t want Carlos to explode. I didn’t want you to worry… or to feel like I’d failed.”

My mother’s lip trembles. “You could never be a failure to us.”

We sit down together. They don’t press. They don’t ask for details. They just listen as I start to speak — slowly, haltingly — about the fear, the control, the way it all snuck up on me until I barely recognized myself.

“I lost myself in that house,” I say, voice hoarse. “I didn’t even realize how much until he was gone. Until Mateo was gone.”

“You didn’t lose yourself,” Papá says. “You were surviving. And now you’re reclaiming your life.”

“And you’re not alone anymore,” Mamá adds softly.

—

The kitchen is bathed in gold light. My mother is at the stove, humming. Carlos is seated at the table, hair a mess, cradling a mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. And there, in the middle of it all, is Charles — barefoot, wearing one of Carlos’ old sweatshirts, balancing Mateo’s sippy cup in one hand and slicing a banana with the other.

“What,” I murmur, completely frozen in the doorway, “is happening?”

Charles grins. “He woke up. I offered to make him breakfast. He accepted. On the condition I provide ‘nana’ and 'toons'.”

Carlos snorts. “They’re best friends now. Sorry, Cat. You’ve been replaced.”

Charles leans down and wipes a bit of mashed banana from Mateo’s cheek. “He takes after you, I think. Big eyes. Stubborn. Curious about literally everything. Tried to eat my shoelace earlier.”

I walk over slowly, cautiously, like I don’t want to scare the moment away. But Mateo turns the second he senses me, arms up, babbling something in his own tiny language.

“Hey, baby,” I whisper, scooping him into my arms. “Did you make a new friend?”

He twists in my arms and reaches for Charles again — one chubby hand landing on Charles’ cheek. Charles leans into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My chest cracks open in the best possible way.

Mamá places a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. “Eat, mija. You look like a ghost.”

“I feel like one,” I admit. “But… less haunted than yesterday.”

Mateo babbles something and points to Charles. “Sha!”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Was that his name?”

Charles beams. “I’ll take it.”

I watch them — my brother, my mother, my son, and this man who somehow walked into the rubble of my life and just... started building with me. Mateo wiggles down from my lap and toddles unsteadily back toward Charles, arms up again. And Charles — without hesitation — lifts him with a soft “bonjour, mon petit,” and settles him on his hip. Mateo giggles. Charles grins. I press my hand to my chest and try to hold in everything I feel. Love. Gratitude. Maybe even the tiniest thread of peace.

“I think he likes you,” I say, voice uneven.

Charles looks up, eyes warm. “Yeah? I like him too.”

And just like that, for the first time in a long time, breakfast tastes like more than just survival. It tastes like coming home.

—

catluvsyou

liked by lando, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 & 8,475,202 others.

catluvsyou : after weeks of pain and uncertainty, my heart is finally whole again. mateo is back where he belongs — safe, loved, and surrounded by family. thank you to everyone who stood by us through this fight. healing is still a journey, but today, we begin a new chapter together. my new single called 'ilysmih' is out now- for my whole heart- mateo. mommy loves you always.

—

username00 : charles and MATEO omg omg

usernameee : so happy for you, catalina. you deserve all the happiness and more.

liked by author

username10 : the song is literally so raw and emotional- i am sobbing on the subway rn

liked by author

username20 : 'my baby's really here' has me sobbing like a bitch.

username15 : charles wins stepdad of the century

liked by author

username00 : omg she liked

arthur_leclerc : So happy for you, Cat. I'd say I'm in the running for best uncle.

liked by author

lando : you bribed him

liked by author

georgerussell63 : Your strength, Catalina, is a reminder to us all that no matter the obstacles, love and resilience always prevail. Mateo’s safe with you, and that’s what truly matters. Proud of you and the beautiful song...it’s from the heart.

liked by author

kikagomes : so happy for you beautiful mama. give mateo a kiss from aunt keeks

liked by author

lando : So happy for you, Bug. Your strength is absolutely incredible. Mateo was blessed with the best mum on the planet.

liked by author

charles_leclerc : Watching you be a mother and regain all your light has been one of the best experiences of my life. I have all the love in the world for you and Mateo. The song is beyond beautiful and I am so honored to have been involved in the process.

liked by author

username15 : omg charles helped make ilysmih

sebastianvettel : True courage is being vulnerable in the face of hardship. Catalina, your story reminds us all to keep fighting for what matters most. Mateo has a warrior mom, and I’m proud to see your strength.

liked by author

carlossainz55 : You were born to be a mother and I am so glad to see you so happy again. Love you always.

liked by author

—

Today was the day. I had to face him again. To fight for our son. I was nervous but I had Charles and Carlos...and the whole grid there to support me. The hallway outside the courtroom smells sterile, like polished tile and nerves. My heels echo on the floor as I walk, heart pounding. Every step forward feels like it's being taken in someone else’s shoes — someone stronger, someone unshakeable. But they’re mine. So is the suit I’m wearing. So is the fire in my chest. So is the little boy at the center of it all — asleep in my mother’s arms two rooms away, blissfully unaware of the war being waged in his name. Charles walks beside me, hand warm at my lower back, his quiet presence grounding me in ways I still don’t know how to put into words. He hasn’t left my side in months. Not when the lawyers called. Not during the mediation sessions. Not after the nightmares that woke me up sobbing at 3AM. And not today.

The press is outside — of course they are. The whispers of “star studded custody battle” had turned this into a media frenzy. But they can’t get in. The judge issued a strict order. No cameras. No recording. Just us. Just the truth. As we approach the courtroom doors, I hear voices ahead — and then I see them. Carlos. Standing tall, jaw tight, eyes locked ahead like he’s walking onto the grid. Rebecca beside him, holding his hand. Lando leans against the wall across from them, wearing a suit and looking completely out of place but determined nonetheless. And behind them — I almost laugh — George, Alex, Pierre, Kika, Lewis and even Arthur. Half the grid is here. For me. The moment I appear, they all straighten up like a switch was flipped.

Carlos walks over and pulls me into a hug — quick, fierce, protective. “You’ve got this, Cat.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Don’t let that asshole rattle you,” Lando mutters. “We’ll all be right there. He’s not gonna touch you.”

I glance at Charles, who meets my gaze with steady, unwavering loyalty. “I’m proud of you,” he whispers.

The bailiff calls us in.

—

It’s colder in here. The wood-panelled walls are imposing. The judge — a stern woman with grey hair and glasses that seem to see through souls — gives no greeting. Only a nod. I sit at the petitioner’s table. My lawyer, a calm but steely woman named Lucia, opens her folder. Across from us, he sits in a dark suit, flanked by his attorney. He doesn’t look at me. Good. I don’t want him to. The first hour is procedural. Papers submitted. Timelines reviewed. The judge flips through documents as if they don’t hold the pieces of my life. And then it begins.

Lucia rises. “Your honor, we will demonstrate that the respondent’s actions — namely, removing the child without the petitioner’s consent and crossing international borders — constitute not only a violation of custody but a potential endangerment. We will also present evidence of emotional and physical abuse and coercive control throughout the relationship.”

I grip the edge of the table. Charles’s hand drops to my knee beneath the table. A silent promise—I’m here. The other side protests. Paints me as unstable. Mentions “emotional distress” and “a demanding career.” They try to twist my own trauma into a weapon against me. But then Lucia brings up the messages. The controlling texts. The surveillance. The bank accounts I was locked out of. The judge’s brow furrows. And then I take the stand. I took a deep breath, feeling the cold weight of the courtroom walls around me. As I stood before the judge, my heart pounded in my chest like a race engine — fast, erratic, out of control. But I had to steady myself. For Mateo. For truth.

“I want to speak honestly,” I said, voice trembling but clear. “Because for too long, the truth has been buried.”

"The first time he raised his voice — just a sharp word over something small. I remember the shock, the way my breath caught in my throat, the sudden coldness creeping up my spine. I wanted to believe it was a one-time thing. But it wasn’t."

The judge nodded silently, and I pushed on.

“At first, he was loving. Protective. The kind of partner I thought would always keep me safe.” My throat tightened. “But then the control began. Phone calls monitored. Friends disappearing from my life. Little freedoms taken away, bit by bit. He had started to get more physical with me. Wouldn't take no for an answer."

"I recall sitting alone in a dim hotel room after a long day in LA, my phone buzzing silently with messages I couldn’t answer. The loneliness was suffocating. I felt like I could not even do the one thing I loved anymore, I was losing myself. A part of me was dying."

In the courtroom, I caught Carlos’s eye — his jaw clenched, fists tightened around the bench. Charles sat beside him, quietly supportive but with a fierce protectiveness radiating from his posture.

“I was afraid to sing,” I said, voice cracking. “Music was my breath, but it became my cage. Every lyric I wrote was scrutinized. I felt trapped in my own story.”

"A night in our home, Mateo asleep in his crib, and me crying in the dark. The weight of silence was unbearable. I wanted to scream but had no voice."

The room murmured softly, some eyes glistening with tears. Lando shifted in his seat, visibly tense. I felt their silent strength.

“The worst day was when I came home from a trip and found him gone. Mateo was gone.” I swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill. “A note on the kitchen counter: ‘I don't want this anymore. I don't want you' No explanation. No warning.”

I looked at the judge, the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air.

“That moment shattered me. I was lost in fear for Mateo’s safety — for my own.”

The judge leaned forward, eyes intent.

“I am here to fight. Not just for custody, but for healing. For our future. Mateo deserves that.”

My voice cracks on the last sentence. I looked over at Charles — his eyes glimmered with unshed tears and fierce determination. There’s a silence so heavy I can barely breathe.

Lucia finishes with, “Catalina Sainz is not only a devoted mother, she is a survivor. And she is asking this court to protect the only person that matters now: her son.”

—

The judge calls a short recess before ruling. I step outside the courtroom and lean against the wall, heart racing. Charles follows, wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

“You were unbelievable,” he whispers. “So brave.”

“I don’t feel brave.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to keep going. You’re almost there.”

Carlos joins us, standing in front of me, arms crossed. “No matter what happens, we fight. We keep fighting until Mateo is safe with you permanently.”

I nod. The tears finally come, slow and quiet. Inside, the judge returns. We go back in. She rules in my favor. Full custody. I hear it. I feel it. But it doesn’t truly sink in until I walk back out and see Charles standing there, and I say — “We won.” And he doesn’t say anything. Just pulls me into his arms and holds me like the world has finally stopped spinning.

—

The three of my main protectors stood outside waiting for (ex name) to show. Carlos’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might snap. Charles stood a step behind him, his usually calm demeanor taut, eyes sharp as daggers. Lando hovered nearby, fists clenched, ready to step in if things escalated.

He approached them with a smug grin. He didn’t look intimidated, which only stoked the fire burning in Carlos’s chest.

Carlos’s voice was low but cutting. “You think you can just take him? Take Mateo without a word and expect no consequences?”

He shrugged, a cold smile twitching at his lips. “I did what I had to do. She was not around enough. Maybe I’m the better parent.”

Charles stepped forward, voice calm but laced with warning. “You’re wrong. This isn’t about competition — it’s about what’s best for Mateo. And that means respecting Catalina.”

"Oh suddenly you know her? Just because you fuck her?" He said with a smirk taunting Charles. Charles balled his fists. Carlos rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Hit me, pretty boy. See what happens." He irked on.

Lando’s tone was sharper, unmistakably protective. “You're fucking with the wrong family, asshole. Don't push me."

His smile faded, replaced by something colder — calculating. “Families fall apart. Especially when secrets come out.”

Carlos’s eyes darkened. “Watch your mouth.”

He sneered. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Charles’s fist clenched at his side, but he held his ground. “Well, we saw what the court said. She is clearly the more fit parent, considering she didn't kidnap him. Hell, maybe if you didn't you'd still be allowed to see him."

For a moment, no one moved. The tension hung thick, like a storm ready to break.

Then he turned on his heel, voice cold. “This isn’t over.”

Charles placed a steadying hand on Carlos’s shoulder. Lando stayed close, eyes never leaving my ex’s retreating back.

—

The house was filled with laughter, the kind of warmth that felt like a fragile promise of better days. Charles was pouring champagne, Carlos was cracking jokes, and Lando was making Mateo giggle with silly faces. I sat there, surrounded by people who felt like family — a rare moment of peace after everything. My new single played softly in the background, a bittersweet soundtrack to the night. For a moment, I let myself breathe. Then my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down — incoming call.

“Excuse me,” I said quietly, standing up and stepping outside onto the cool night air. The sounds inside faded behind me.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

The voice was low, urgent. “Catalina… we need to talk.”

I hesitated. “I’m with people. Can it wait?”

“No. It can’t,” the voice insisted. My chest tightened.

Before I could pull away, a rough hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back into the shadows.

“Let me go!” I gasped, struggling.

“Quiet,” he hissed in my ear. “We’re not done.”

Panic surged through me, freezing me for a split second before fear turned into fight. But I was caught — trapped by the man whose presence I never wanted again. I gripped my phone and tried to dial Charles. He threw my phone to the ground and I heard it crunch. Inside the house, I could only imagine the sudden silence, the questions, the worry growing like wildfire. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. Instead, I was dragged back into a nightmare I thought I’d escaped. And suddenly, everything was at risk again.

—

p3 complete:)))))

yall thought id just give you an easy happy ending???

my bad

p4 is done so it will be published soon:)

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[kitkatscabinet]

POSITIVE PREGNANCY TEST

pairing: wally west x fem! reader

requested: by anon as part of dc drabbles

The Zeta tube flared to life with a sharp hum, and you stepped through like a woman possessed. Eyes wild and fist clenching the ziploc bag containing the damn stick you'd only peed on to reassure yourself that you weren't pregnant.

Poor Captain Marvel flinched as you barreled past him. "Uh... ma’am? You need clearance?"

"I have clearance," you snapped, stalking down the gleaming hallway and making a mental note to apologise later. "I’m dating one of the fastest men alive, and I’m hormonal as hell. Do not get in my way."

He very smartly lets you be.

You passed stunned League members and confused junior heroes, all of them parting like the Red Sea at the look on your face. Laser-focused. Fuming. White-knuckling something in your fist that looked suspiciously like—

"Is that… a pregnancy test?" someone whispered.

You didn’t stop.

Wally was in the monitor room. You only knew this because he’d complained to you just yesterday about how he'd be stuck on monitor duty for a stupidly long time, and that he probably wouldn't be able to answer any texts.

Which had been fine, before you'd taken the pregnancy test.

Alone. Crying in the bathroom, pacing for fifteen minutes, then screaming into a pillow for five. And now you were here, because if you didn’t see him, if you didn’t tell him, you were going to combust.

"West!" you barked, practically bursting through the door.

Wally turned in his chair, granola bar in hand, eyes going wide the second he saw you. "Hey, babe! You... uh, you came to visit—"

You throw the test at him, which he barely manages to catch in shock at seeing you a) on the watchtower, and b) looking absolutely manic.

"Two lines," you snapped. "Congratulations. You knocked me up."

He blinked. Face concerningly blank as he stared down at the test in his hands as if it were a live bomb.

"…Oh." His voice cracked a little.

"You’re damn right oh. You’ve got thirty seconds to respond before I start sobbing or throwing something, I haven’t decided yet."

Wally stood slowly, gently placing the test on the console like it was sacred. "Wait—wait, hold on... pregnant? Like a real pregnancy? Now? A baby? Like ours?"

"Yes, Wally!" you shouted. "I’m pregnant! I’m tired! I’m hungry! And I just spent nearly an hour having a mental breakdown by myself, so say something useful before I explode!"

There was a brief pause before Wally pulled you into his arms. "I love you," he blurted. "And I’m so excited to be a parent with you. And I’m never leaving you alone again. Ever. I'll get you whatever you want, anything. You want ice cream? A new house? A car? We'll need it, for the baby. What do you want?"

You stared at him, overwhelmed with love and affection, before you abruptly burst into tears.

"Oh no, No, no, no—please don’t cry—I love you—I’m an idiot—This is all my fault!"

"It is your fault!" You wailed as you clutched onto him like a lifeline, your sobs devolving into little sniffles, "But I love you."

"I love you too, you and our baby." There's so much sincerity in his voice that you start sobbing anew.

Fucking hormones.

[hy6erion]

NEED BBNO$PLSPLSPLS, I’ve seen the interviews saying how he wants to be a stay at home dad, and I neeeedddd a one shot (or anything else rlly) of him with a breeding kink.

LITERALLY SCREAMED when I read this—like full on hand-over-mouth. need this man so bad.

𝐁𝐛𝐧𝐨$ (𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐆𝐮𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐧) 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 / 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭!

“God—please, please, please—just let me do it” Alex whines against your throat, hips stuttering as he fucks up into you from below, voice breaking with every breath. “Let me cum inside, let me—fuck—wanna fill you up, baby, wanna—wanna make you a mommy so bad—”

His words come out in broken gasps, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s scared you’ll float away if he lets go. You’re straddling him, riding his cock slow and deep, his hands shaking where they grip your ass, helping you bounce even though he’s too fucked-out to do anything but sob under you.

“Feels too good“ he hiccups, forehead pressed to your chest, curls plastered to his temples with sweat. “You’re so warm—so tight—fuck, I’m losing my mind, you’re gonna ruin me—”

“You sound so pathetic“ you murmur with a breathless smile, clenching around him just to make him twitch.

He whines—high and soft and broken—and his cock throbs deep inside you like he’s right on the edge.

“I am“ he pants, hips jerking up involuntarily. “I’m so pathetic for you. I’ll do anything, I’ll stay home and clean and rub your feet, I don’t care, I just wanna get you pregnant—please—let me—”

You drop your weight down, take him to the hilt in one sudden, wet slap of skin, and he sobs into your shoulder, arms clamping around your waist as he bucks helplessly.

“Please, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum—don’t pull off—don’t—”

You stay buried on his cock, grinding slow, and that’s all it takes—he loses it. Entire body seizing under you as he cums deep, crying out your name, hot and frantic and soaked with sweat. You feel him throb inside you, feel the first gush of it—so much, it’s instantly leaking around the base of his cock, warm and messy and thick.

“Oh my God” he breathes, voice wrecked.

You lift your hips just an inch and he yelps, hands flying to pin you down again.

“No—no no no—don’t let it out—I wanna do it again, baby, I can’t stop—I wanna see it drip out while I’m still inside—”

“You wanna cum again?” you tease, dragging your hips in a slow circle while he shivers.

He nods frantically. “Please. I’ll be so good, I’ll cook dinner, I’ll fold laundry, I’ll rub your back every night—just let me keep fucking it in. Wanna make you a mommy so bad it hurts.”

His voice cracks again, needy and flushed and overwhelmed, and he bites down on your collarbone just to ground himself as you rock on his cock—hot and swollen and twitching, somehow getting hard all over again from how desperate he is to make you his.

“Shh“ you whisper, kissing the top of his head as his fingers dig into your hips.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you“ he babbles, barely coherent, already grinding again. “And then do it again. And again. ‘Til your belly’s all round and I get to kiss it every morning—”

You whine at the thought, tugging his curls as he moans.

And he melts, whimpering against your chest as he starts to thrust again—wet, messy, obsessed.

[sweetstrawberryys]

“Into the Fire”

Summary: When a house fire threatens to take everything from you, one firefighter — John Price — risks everything to bring your daughter home. But the fire isn't the only thing he’s ready to fight.

Rating: Emotional comfort, protective Price, soft romance, a warm ending

You don’t remember the exact moment the smoke started curling under the kitchen door — only the way your stomach dropped as your daughter screamed from the other side of the house.

“Mia—!” You coughed, stumbling through the smoke. “Mia, baby, answer me!”

But the flames were already eating up the hallway. Heat slammed into your face as a hand grabbed your arm — strong, steady, anchoring.

“Ma’am. You can’t go in there.”

You turned, frantic. “My daughter’s in there! I have to get her!”

“Look at me.” His voice cut through the panic — calm, deep, reassuring. His eyes locked on yours beneath the rim of his helmet. “I will get her. But I need you to trust me. Please.”

You didn’t know this man. But something in his voice — firm and gentle all at once — made you pause. Made you believe.

“I’m John,” he said, already turning. “I’m going in.”

“Her room’s on the left!” you cried after him, hands shaking. “She’s four—her name is Mia!”

“I’ve got her.”

And then he was gone.

The longest seven minutes of your life passed with your hands pressed to your chest, lungs burning with smoke and terror, watching as his silhouette disappeared into the fire.

Until—

There.

Crashing through the front door, smoke swirling around him, your daughter wrapped in his arms.

She was crying — alive — and he was coughing, singed and covered in soot, but whole. He dropped to one knee and gently passed her to you.

“Mama!” she sobbed, clutching your neck.

“Oh my God, baby—I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” you whispered, rocking her, crying against her hair.

And then you looked up at him — your hero.

He sat back, pulling off his helmet. Blue eyes. Strong jaw. His voice was hoarse, soft.

“She’s okay. Kept real still, just like we teach the kids to.”

You blinked at him, heart pounding. “You—thank you. I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Just glad I got to her in time.”

He smiled, and it was gentle and tired and so full of heart.

Later…

You were sitting on the back of the ambulance, Mia asleep on your chest, wrapped in a blanket. The firefighters were packing up, but John lingered near you — like he didn’t want to leave.

“I know this is a hell of a way to meet someone,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “But… I wanted to ask something.”

You looked up, wiping your face. “Yeah?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve seen a lot in this job. A lot I wish I hadn’t. But tonight… saving her… meeting you…”

He smiled again, smaller now. “I don’t just want to be the guy who showed up on the worst day of your life. I’d like to be around for the better ones too. If you’ll let me.”

Your throat caught. “You mean…”

“I want to help take care of you. Both of you. If you’ll have me.”

You stared at him. A stranger a few hours ago — now the man who’d saved your world.

And somehow, you already knew: he wouldn’t just keep you safe.

He’d love you like it was his life’s purpose.

You smiled, voice trembling. “We’d like that, John.”

He grinned — eyes soft, heart wide open. “Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[debtofdeception-if]

Awwwn I need some fluffy author! Pretty little please!

What would A do with a baby kiddo who would always clingy to mcs neck, and be super insufferable and teary eyed when mc was not around?

This is kind of long, but I thought it was cute 😂. I used a F!MC named Anora, a M!A, and a M!Kiddo named Shiloh.

No!” Shiloh screams, clinging to Anora’s neck with both arms. He buries his face in her shoulder as she tries to gently peel him off.

“Come on, baby,” she coaxes softly. “Mommy has to go. I need you to let go now.”

Alaric steps in front of them, wrapping his arms around Shiloh’s waist to help. “Yeah, bud, come on. We’re gonna have so much fun, right?”

Shiloh shakes his head hard. “No!”

Alaric winces. “Really starting to regret teaching him that word,” he mutters under his breath.

With some effort, Anora manages to slip free. Alaric seizes the chance and lifts Shiloh away, but just as he does, Shiloh reaches out and grabs a fistful of Anora’s hair.

“Ah! Shiloh, please let go of Mommy’s hair!” she gasps, her face twisting in pain.

Alaric tries to pry Shiloh’s fingers loose, but his grip is stubborn. “Jeez, could probably get you in the Guinness World Records with this grip strength,” he jokes, but his smile fades when Anora shoots him a glare.

“Alaric. Not the time.”

“Right, sorry,” he says quickly, focusing on her tangled strands. “Shiloh, you’re hurting Mommy. You don’t want to do that, right? Let’s just…”

Finally, the grip loosens. Anora pulls away fast, rubbing her scalp where the strands had been yanked. Alaric secures Shiloh in his arms, but he immediately starts squirming and kicking. His little legs flail, and his onesie becomes ruffled from the scuffle.

The front door swings open as Anora steps out, rushing now that the delay has cost her time. “I’ll be back, munchkin. I love you,” she calls, blowing a kiss and waving before heading out.

Almost instantly, the crying starts. Shiloh lets out a long, warbling whine, his body going limp in Alaric’s arms as his wide eyes fill with tears.

“Mommy no leave… come back, Mommy,” he sobs, voice cracking.

Alaric stands frozen, unsure of what to do. The sobbing won’t stop, even as he tries rocking him gently, patting his back, whispering soft reassurances. Still, nothing helps. Then, an idea hits him.

“Hold on, bud. One second.”

He sets Shiloh down carefully and hurries to his workshop. His eyes scan cluttered shelves until he sees what he’s looking for: a small, dusty toy robot. The little blue robot had once been his pride and joy. It had taken weeks of trial and error to get it to work, but he remembers that feeling of satisfaction when he finally did. He hasn’t touched it in years, so he’s unsure if it will still work, but he’s hopeful.

Grabbing the controller, he hurries back to the living room. Shiloh is lying near the door, curled up and crying into his arms. His small back trembles with each hiccuping sob.

Alaric kneels nearby and powers on the toy. The robot buzzes to life. Its rubber treads begin zigzagging across the floor until it halts in front of Shiloh. Alaric presses a button, and the robot starts playing a soft lullaby. Its stubby arms lift in rhythm as colored lights blink across its chest. It spins in place, waving its arms in a motion that is supposed to resemble dancing.

At first, Shiloh doesn’t move. His face stays hidden. But then, a single teary eye peeks out. The robot twirls again. Lights flash as it lifts its arms once more.

A shaky giggle breaks through Shiloh’s tears.

Alaric exhales, surprised to realize he had been holding his breath. With a soft smile, he crosses over and pulls Shiloh into his lap.

“You like him?” he asks, handing the robot over. Shiloh’s small hands wrap around it in curiosity.

“He’s cool, huh?” Alaric says, voice low and gentle. “Even though I haven’t played with him in a long time, I still remembered him. I still came back for him. I always will.” He kisses the top of Shiloh’s head. “Just like Mommy. She loves you way too much to ever leave for good. You’re too special.”

Alaric knows Shiloh probably can’t comprehend everything he just said. But that doesn’t stop him from saying it. Some things are worth hearing, even if they aren’t fully understood.

Shiloh rests against him, finally calmed down. Together, they watch the robot spin and dance across the floor. The lights reflect off Shiloh’s cheeks, still shiny from tears, as his little fingers press the buttons with newfound focus.

And just like that, everything feels okay again.

[holyblonded]

can we have hcs about how alexia reacted and stepped in for her girls after olga was declared stable? especially estrella, how did alexia comfort her, knowing exactly what she needs when she’s that scared?

i love your work so much you have no idea!!

— the second olga is declared stable, alexia runs on pure adrenaline. her hands are still shaking and her heart’s going a million miles a minute, but she’s already thinking about the girls.

— when she finds estrella in the hallway outside the room, she doesn’t say anything at first. estrella’s sitting against the wall, knees drawn up, fists pressed to her mouth like she’s trying not to scream. her eyes are wild, but the second she sees alexia, they go even wider.

— “she’s okay,” alexia says gently, kneeling in front of her. “she’s stable. the baby’s okay too.”

— estrella tries to nod like she already knew that, like she doesn’t care. but then alexia cups her face with both hands and estrella crumples like paper. the sob that comes out of her is raw and awful, and she hates it, hates crying like a little kid, but she can’t stop.

— alexia pulls her in without hesitation. estrella clings to her like she’s drowning, arms wrapped around her neck so tight it’s almost painful. and alexia doesn’t tell her to calm down or breathe or stop crying, she just rubs her back and murmurs, “i’ve got you, mami’s okay, i promise.”

— azulita’s standing nearby, stiff, eyes red but dry. alexia pulls her in too, holding them both, kissing their heads and whispering soft, grounding things in between her own quiet tears. “you were both so brave. i’m so proud of you. she’s gonna be okay.”

— estrella eventually starts apologizing, for yelling, for losing it, for not doing something, and alexia shuts that down immediately. “you don’t ever have to be perfect, estrella. not for me. not for anyone.”

— she keeps one hand in estrella’s curls the whole time, grounding her with touch because she knows estrella. she knows she spirals when she doesn’t feel tethered. knows she’ll pretend she’s fine and then break alone later.

— once they’re allowed to see olga and val, both girls doesn’t leave olga’s side. but they keeps checking over their shoulder to make sure alexia is still in the room, still there. still solid.

— later that night, when the adrenaline crashes, estrella curls up in alexia’s lap in the corner of the hospital room. she won’t say she’s scared anymore, but she doesn’t let go either. alexia strokes her hair and whispers, “you don’t have to be the strong one right now. i’ve got you.”

[pineconepie]

how would the yanparents react to a little whos being severely bullied or abused by someone but they never tell them until they came home bloody and brush and when asked why they say it's because they have become so used to it and because of how common it is they essentially stopped caring

This is probably one of my favorite tropes to put in writings XD anyway, here's some randomized yanparents for this ask!

.

Kezareth would be quick to find out something is wrong right away, but just in the extremely rare scenario where he isn't watching over you, he'd be filled with rage upon seeing you bruised and bloody. For once, he'd lose his composure, screaming who did this to you, and if you don't tell him, he'll just find them himself.

Seradiel would also be angry and emotional, but he'd have slightly more composure, holding you while scolding Kezareth to, "calm yourself, you're clearly making this worse".

Both of them would feel guilty they allowed this to somehow happen, and would blame themselves. You wouldn't see them bickering for a while after that, too caught up in guilt to really focus on anyone but you.

While Seradiel is against murder, that changes as soon as you're hurt. He's your guardian angel, right? That means he's supposed to be guarding you. So while he stays home to comfort you, he wouldn't stop Kezareth from finding them and making them pay.

.

If Solaris somehow agreed to let you go to some magic school, or something else along those lines, this would push their fears high enough to take you out of there immediately. They'd be crying as they tend to your injuries, even if their magic basically makes it all better much more quicker.

Despite being angry, they wouldn't be enough to raise their voice or do anything to make it worse. They wouldn't pry answers out of you, not straight away.

Only after you're both calmed down, they'd be almost deceptively sweet when asking who did it, how long was this happening, and why you didn't say anything to them sooner.

They'd be extra protective after that, despite the bully mysteriously disappearing <3

.

Also with Anevra this is unlikely to happen, but in some kind of scenario where she allows you to go to some school in the forest (perhaps mainly just for creatures like driders, elves, etc), she would be devastated.

Very quick to start crying and holding you close, shushing you while she tends to all your injuries. Her hands would be shaking the entire time, sobbing louder when she needs to take care of a new bruise or cut :(

Only after recovering, would the anger set in. "Who is hurting my baby?? Tell me!!" It'd be one of the extremely rare moments you actually see anger from her.

Whether she gets an answer or not, she's going to find them. Out of everyone here, she'll definitely be the most violent when dealing with them.

[074calicocat]

✮⋆˙ LIKE YOU'RE HIS...

cw: fauxcest but not really (you'll see), aftermath of piv sex, cockwarming, creampie, reader is me (gulp), reader has daddy issues 🥀, suggestive ending

notes: hello. I put my tears and cum into this so here is your formal warning. I just really want di Leon to be my dad 💔 also if I lock in I want this to have a second part. IF I lock in. Also not proofed in the slightest yikes

"If I was your dad, you know I would never have screamed at you. Right?"

Note to self. Block your dad's number.

You're so sweaty you're surprised Leon hasn't outright called you disgusting. Your hair plastered to your forehead and you're more than sure you reek of that non-so-romantic post sex funk.

"I would love you forever and ever. You'd be my little girl for life and I would never say anything mean about you."

But Leon holds you anyway. Keeps his softened cock nestled in your spent cunt as you lay on his chest, scratching your head like you're his pet. Your hips ache, your head aches, your chest hurts like a bitch. Your eyes sting and your throat is raw from how much you've cried and honestly, you've outdone yourself because you can't think of any other person who can sob themself dry and ride dick like no tomorrow.

Just one of the many womanly charms you possess.

"...yeah, I know," you mumbled, sniffling and wiping the tip of your nose against Leon's chest. Turns out chest hair makes good tissues and you've been wiping your tear-stricken face against him for the past half hour.

You can hear him sigh and his hands slide from your hair down your spine, pulling you all the most tighter against him. He actually smells goods during sex, like musk and aftershave and whiskey. It's not fair he ended up with you: some mopey girl who can't even remember to take her meds on most days to avoid episodes like this.

"You know I love you, right? More than anything?" he whispers to you, so softly it's like he's breathing life into his words.

God dammit it.

"Don't make me cry again, oh my god-" your voice cracks as the tears well up in your eyes again, your face promptly ending back up buried in Leon's chest. His chest rises as he softly chuckles, cooing "dont' cry, baby" at you like you're his...

his...

"I just wish you were my dad sometimes, Leon."

Bingo. How does that one song go? Parades me 'round like his fucking daughter...something, something, it doesn't matter. The point is that's exactly what you want from Leon, even if he fucked you stupid just before and was swearing up again down he was going to give you a baby. And as you raise your damp face away from his body and stare him down, the silver in his beard only makes you more sure of your wishes.

Leon had all the right to push you off, send you to take a shower, and order you to take your meds. Because who actually says things like that? But there's a reason why Leon is dating you even if you're a total square because his eyes light up like you've just flashed him a fancy new bottle of whiskey. "Oh yeah?"

He has that shit-eating look on his face when you say something he really likes and it's like the gates of heaven open up to you. You're like an overeager puppy as you start to nod, the two of you laughing together.

"I'm your man, baby," Leon hums, his hands drifting down to cup your ass. "If you wanna play house, we can play house." His lips drift to your forehead and he lays the most gentle kiss onto your skin, easily distracting you from his cock getting hard while still buried inside you.

Insane work.

"Besides, I always wanted a daughter to spoil like this."

[zweigish]

slipping through their fingers

art.. at your child’s first day of kindergarten. he couldn’t help but smile as he watched his baby walk in, holding onto his and your pinky fingers, taking steps with pride but as soon as your baby got inside, they clung to art. He crouched down to their level and sighed before he kissed your child’s forehead. “baby, listen to me. You’ll come back home to me and mommy and you’ll have an amazing day. You’ll make new friends and play. Me and mommy will come back, go have fun.” eventually convincing your baby to take their teachers pinky and walk deeper into the class, art gently wiping soft tears he wasn’t afraid to show.

Patrick.. at your child’s first day of kindergarten, he was trying so hard not to cry as he watched your child walk big steps towards those big doors, not holding onto your fingers due to wanting to be like their dad, strong and tough but little did your child know, Patrick was breaking down right next to you. You rubbed his back and he shook his head. “I’m being dramatic.” He softly laughed. “Who’s crying?” He scoffed as you both entered, your child pridefully waving goodbye and leaving with their teacher, Patrick was now sobbing in the car.

Art.. now, it was your kids first day of middle school! Art was worried, he wouldn’t deny it. He knew kids could be a bit cruel in middle school, he didn’t want your child to come back sobbing from school. He rubbed your childs back as he walked in with them. He smiled. “You’ll do great, alright? and if kids wanna say anything. You ignore them, ya hear baby?” He spoke with confidence, your child nodded and walked in. Great! now..when he got back into the car. He looked at you and cried a bit. “God, I’m so worried but I’m happy.”

Patrick.. again, a total wreck when it was your child’s first day of middle school. He was hiding the fact that he wanted to sob, not willing to cry infront of his child on their first day. He walked inside with them, when they received their schedule. He wanted to cry, the math wasn’t gonna be easy adding or subtracting anymore, it was gonna be harder and he knew that meant his baby was growing. He quickly waved bye to your child as they walked away to their first class. He walked back to the car and shook his head before breaking down in the passenger seat. “Middle school? Are you serious?”

Art.. highschool graduation. This is what art didn’t want to come because it meant his baby was an adult now. As he heard their name called and he watched them walk the stage, he clapped and cheered loudly. His baby was grown and he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t turn back time to where they played with toys and went on walks. When your baby let him hug them tightly and closely without groaning. He stared at you, small tears running down. When your child approached you both with their cap and gown, art cried at the sight before hugging them. “My baby, you’re all grown up. When will you stop?” His words shook laughter out of you all, it was weird. You and art were crying and laughing at the same time!

Patrick.. highschool graduation, he sobbed on the way and of course, made you drive. when you both watched your child walk the stage. He clapped and screamed, “that’s my baby! Hey! That’s my kid!” He laughed as you shook your head. This was crazy to him, his baby was working, his baby that he used too feed, change, burp..was now grown. They were gonna date, get married, have babies even though he remembers them just being a baby themselves. When your child approached with their cap and grown, he immediately hugged them. You watched as Patrick and your kid broke into sobs together. You couldn’t help but join in.

[callme-holly]

i need some benny cross with reader who wakes up from a nightmare?

just soft and sweet benny!!!!

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬 - 𝐁.𝐂

word count. 646 summary. in which benny comforts you after a nightmare

The night was quiet, the gentle hum of cicadas and the din of distant traffic the only things breaking through the silence. The window was open, letting in what little breeze there was in hopes of soothing the oppressive heat still lingering from the day, the summer hitting Illinois like a tidal wave, thick, heavy and unescapable, making your little home feel more like a sauna. 

But it isn’t the heat that has your skin slick with perspiration, the covers feeling too tight around your middle. It isn’t the temperature that has you writhing, tossing and turning restlessly like you’re caught in a net you can’t break free from.

The nightmares had become more frequent, more vivid and terrifying, shaking you to your very core and keeping you up for hours, your body not resting until dawn finally broke across the horizon and you knew you were safe. 

Benny didn’t know, or at least if he did, he didn't say anything. 

A blur of faces, shouting, screaming, crying… 

You jolt awake with a sharp intake of air, your lungs burning, tears streaming down your cheeks in little rivulets. Every single muscle ached, your body heavy as lead, holding you down into the mattress and trapping you in your own terror.

Glancing around the room, you tried to make out where you were, seemingly still caught in the haze of dream and reality, the lines between both worlds blurred and unclear. You were just beginning to focus on the familiar patterned wallpaper when a hand landed on your back, steady and sure, but making you flinch nonetheless.

“Hey”, Benny’s voice was calm, level in a way that grounded you almost immediately, dragging you back down and into the present moment. He sounded groggy, half-asleep, and you realise with a half-guilty mind that you probably kicked him at some point during your panic. 

“Benny…”  You don’t say more, choking on the word as you turn and bury yourself against his chest, letting him envelop you in his warmth, his arms encircling you and tugging you close. A sob wracks your frame, your shoulders shaking as the tears come out unfiltered, breaking free from the dam and flooding his shirt. 

“Shh… You’re okay. I got you.” His words were a reassurance you didn’t know you needed as his hand continued to smooth down your spine, tracing gentle patterns against your skin, perhaps words you were too wired to decipher.

“It felt real…” You whisper, the words broken up with each sniffle and hitch of your breath, and Benny hums in response.

“Yeah… I know.” His lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss, barely there, but enough to ground you further. “But it wasn’t. You’re here.” 

You nod, burrowing closer. He was safe; he would protect you, whether it be from a true threat or one that was merely a figment of your imagination, an image conjured up by your fatigue and the searing summer heat. 

“Don’t go anywhere.” You mumble, muffled against the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers thread into the collar, clinging tightly to him like a child who had lost their closest form of comfort. “Please. Stay.” 

“I’m staying, baby.” He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes meeting your bloodshot, tear-stained ones. His hand cupped your cheek, brushing away a stray drop with the pad of his thumb, offering you a weak, sympathetic smile. 

“You okay?” 

You manage a small nod, the movement slightly jerky and unsure. Your heart is still racing, and your body still trembling just enough for your fear to shine through. 

“C’mere…” He tugs you even closer than before, until you’re practically lying on top of him, legs tangled with his. “I got you. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

And that… That you could believe. BEcause Benny was real. And he was here.

masterlist here <3