#its still weighing on me a bit

[ionlyhavetwoeyes]

I'm just letting this out bc it's been bothering me all day and I think I just need to get it out.

(Tw for transphobia and a short mention of suicidal ideation (non explicit))

(Let me know if any other tags/warnings need to be added im really bad about know which ones are there)

Today at work, within an hour of clocking In I get a customer that approaches me. I work in the clothes section of my store, at the moment I was just putting away clothes people didn't want.

The first thing this person says to me is "just so you know, you don't pass. At all."

Context: I am trans masculine. I specifically identify a genderfaun (a subtype of genderfluid) but most the time I just say I'm nonbinary. My work allows us to have pins on our uniform, and while I typically have many, I currently only have two pronoun pins by my name badge. One he/him, one They/them.

I'm thrown off by this statement because I have no idea what the hell they're talking about. I haven't had a stranger approach me about this ever. I notice them glance down at my pins and it clicks. I respond with I know (I'm mostly pretty medical intervention, only on birth control to stop my periods)

They ask me what the point is.

I then proceed, a tad excited because I dont have many people to talk about it with, to say I actually have top surgery next month and will start T soon after that.

My excitement shatters immediately as they tell me that doesn't change anything. That it won't change my waist, or hips, or how slim my shoulders are.

I try explaining that T can actually help with that. I've done alot of research on it. I used to be on the fence about it, that's why it's taken so long for me to start it. They disagree with me, telling me it cannot change the above mentioned.

I am getting uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable with this person looking at my body in such a way that they can identify that. I am weakly holding back from explaining I actually have quite broad shoulders. I weakly shrug in response as I look around for someone to help me. No one is around.

They continue to go on about how they know people who have gotten surgery and/or hormones and it hasn't helped anything. That they think it's just an identity crisis. That it hurts to see tomboys like them butchering themselfs to no avail. That we're trying to be cis men, an ideal that is impossible to achieve.

I am panicking. I am shaking and holding back tears. While they are not acting aggressive, they are talking firmly as if there is no room in their opinion. I'm glancing around the area, clocking every item near by that could potentially harm or even kill me. It is a worrying number. I am wondering how I'm going to be able to get away from this person.

I try explaining that I am not comparing myself to cis men. I am only comparing who I was 5 years ago. I'm much happier now. I do not mention I'm actually nonbinary because I feel this would not help the situation at all.

They paused for a moment, considering that, and then arguing again. My hearing started ringing so I'm not quite sure what all they said after that. I eventually tell them I can understand where they're coming from before finally being able to escape. I quickly put the small amount of returns I had back at the fitting room before going to the farthest area away in my department.

I end up finding one of my friends and working with them for a moment. They're much more upset about it than I am. I'm just grateful I wasn't harmed and trying to stop shaking.

I probably was not as articulate as I could have been. The majority of the time I was legitimately worried I was about to be hatecrimed and no one was around to help me. I wish I was able to explain that being called she/her or a girl actively put me in a depressive episode, borderline suicidal. That being called any other pronouns, being refused to as sir, fill me with such a high that I'm smiling for the next half hour.

That the point of it is being happy with myself.

I could see where they were coming from. That it must be hard to see people you grew up with and thought you connected to change. People you thought were the same as you are not.

But they didnt know me. They didn't know I grew up a tomboy, always missing something. They didn't know that i constantly changed my name as a child. That when I was 12, I prayed to God every night to take my chest away. That I would sit on my bed with a mini knife trying to get myself to do it on my own.

They don't know what I've gone through. And they had no right to try and tell me I'm not really trans. I already know my surgery is going to make me infinitely happier. That starting T will give me a confidence boost I've been waiting for. I already know this and it hasn't even happened yet. I don't need to prove to some else I'm trans enough, or why I'm even trying when I look very fem still. I've long given up on trying to impress people.

I can usually do articulate conversations on these topics, but im usually talking with people I know where I can gauge reactions and know when to stop. I've never had to do this with a stranger where I wasn't sure if they would attack me for disagreeing or not.

I'm debating on telling my managers. They can't do anything about it now, I'm not good at remembering people and the cameras aren't always good, expcially since we were between racks. I just hope they didn't get on any of my other trans coworkers. Most of them are younger than me.

This was a bit long, and might not even be cohesive. Thank you for reading this far if you have. I hope you all stay safe and stay alert in your lives <3

[topicaltropic]

oops! all wips

[carcarrot]

i guess im being offered the job lol

[marathedemonoverlord]

Lesson 17 Hard Mode Spoilers(???)

Just finished Lesson 17 Hard Mode ( Don't @ me. I'm taking anything I can get to stay invested ) and like.... Did Michael just love bomb the Angels? (ಥ ͜ʖಥ)

Maybe my ass just hates gifts cause I'm so difficult but like... Weird doting vibes- Anyways weirdly I feel bad for Raphael being caught in the middle of it all - He's so awkward I see myself in him (ಥ ͜ʖಥ)(ಥ ͜ʖಥ)

[red-dyed-sarumane]

people who think the only series songs are the ones directly tied to aru sekai shoushitsu by title are so funny. theres 11 songs and the same major motif is in all but 3 of them. but they dont have a certain kanji in the title so they must not be related right. "marshall maximizer & kanon are their own side thing" "kugutsu ashura isnt a series song" fascinated by this world view. kugutsu ashura is the outlier here so i'll get to that in a second but

aru sekai shoushitsu is the starting point & the reason we can pick out its a series & theorize about where its going. most people can pick out that kyuuyaku hankagai, shuuen touhikou, & oumen mokushiroku are series songs based on the fact their titles start with the same kanji that are emphasized in lines in aru sekai shoushitsu. which is true and great.

we also have the "nami no ne no yume wo miyou ame hodo no uruoi wo" melody that appears in most major & side songs & ultimately serves to distinguish which characters maintain a self of self and get to live and try again and which dont (those that lack the melody in their respective song.) it initially shows up as a repeated line in aru sekai shoushitsu & basically describes that whole concept of getting to continue or "being reborn" that it symbolizes. and then its in kyuuyaku hankagai at 4:51 mixed into the instrumental behind the vocals and more notably at 5:16, shuuen touhikou during the chorus at 1:20 2:34 & 2:47, oumen mokushiroku which is also the Only song where its sung & not apart of the instrumental aside from aru sekai shoushitsu itself at 2:30 & 2:51, unplanned apoptosis at 0:46 (very hard to make out because of the vocals if u listen to the instrumental only u can pick it out easier) & in the chorus at 0:57 1:07 2:17 & 2:26, marshall maximizer at 2:23, kanon at 2:19, and kannagi at 3:31 & 5:45.

that's of course not the only melody to denote a connection between songs there's also rute furute woa which is used exclusively in songs that happen in the past. it's in kyuuyaku hankagai behind the fractal wa kurikaeshita lines at 2:24 4:33 & 5:01 and more notably at 5:30, shuuen touhikou at the whole most of the song when theres not singing& also in behind the chorus at 1:06 2:13 & 2:22, kannagi as a lyric at 1:30 3:00 4:31 & 5:01, POSSIBLY oumen mokushiroku at 1:42 and POSSIBLY kugutsu ashura at 2:47 as the melody for the initial parts of those lines* *saying these two are possible because i know these parts sound like a series motif but its just different enough to keep me guessing. i'm continuing my research as we speak rest assured

and then there's not so much a melodic motif but the inclusion of a singular glass breaking noise thats a bit of a niche thing to notice & it creates a timeline for everything that happens after oumen mokushiroku, with the exception of unplanned apoptosis. marshall maximizer has it at 1:41, kanon at 0:22, laboratory at 2:42, and yamete kudasai at 0:00. oumen does not have this sound effect at its that song's events that break the glass (as told in kanon) and unplanned apoptosis does not have it bc the art implies it to being happening after the glass has already broken.

which leads us to only kugutsu ashura which lacks any immediately obvious motifs and yet is still a series song. it does not have the nami no ne no motif because thats reserved for characters who live or in series terms are "reborn with the next world" and she as both ashura and a puppet lacks her own "self" and her actions are not for her own gain or purposes. i do not believe its intended to be a future/present/modern song & is otherwise a bit estranged from the group that has the glass breaking noise in their songs so it makes sense that wouldnt be in the song. the only remaining thing would be the past motif & due to other details (how the lyrics are written, strong ties to shuuen touhikou & kyuuyaku hankagai, a few other minor things) it does seem to be intended to be a past song but the only place the motif could possibly be is in the last lyrics particularly the ugate ine sono rensa/ yagate mitsu sono koe wa/ mukae rinne sono mei wa/ ata e urufu sono sei wa parts sound a bit like a fragment of the rute furute woa melody. and in the event thats just me making things up because i have listened to every single one of these songs several thousand times without exaggeration, ignoring literally everything else the very last line in the song is mata ibuku you ni literally "so we may breathe again" which is a direct parallel to part of the lyrics in the nami no ne no part in aru sekai shoushitsu "umareyou mou ichido nakusedomo nai keredo/hodo ni" or "let's be born once more though there's no way to lose life/as though life can't be lost" which is a strong enough point to claim its a series song on its own. not to mention if u actually want to go digging into the wall of text that kugutsu ashura is (i dont. i did i once and keep putting off going thru it again even though i really need to) there're more connections to be made to other songs.

this isnt to say every hiiragi magnetite song is a series song because thats also not true. a lot of what makes series songs series songs is the wording; they have a lot more precise words to describe things & usually end up sounding odd if youre thinking of them as stand alone songs. compare to uni for example that, yeah sure it does talk about the rain which is also a series staple & major symbol, but its not a series song. its just a fun little song with comparatively simple lyrics that happens to take place when its raining.

[gibbearish]

yknow i hadnt really processed how much the adderall weight loss has changed my face shape but then i found this slightly older selfie

<== old now ==>

like. aww look at ur cute lil squishable cheeks:3 i can see why bf did that so much i would too

[vanishingmoments]

i still don't know if i want to settle for an Associates or not

[lucysweatslove]

You would think as a person who recovered from an ED I would learn NOT to weigh myself, like, ever, but of course I keep doing it because curiosity and it only causes distress.

[audiovisualrecall]

When you decide to wear a shirt you last wore ~2 years ago and you realize it doesn't fit anymore

and it's cause u got too buff just from hefting 20-50 lbs of boxes/bags/boards/etc around 5 days a week for 3 yrs

:O

[s0dium]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒?!

A/n: Thank you for everyone's patience while I've been on this hiatus. I hope this makes up for lost time Warnings: Dom!xreader, fingering, oral, cum eating, blowjobs, squirting, voyeurism, breeding kink, mating press, doggy, face sitting Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

Toji- Blowjobs/Cum eating

Toji plugs your nose when he cums in your mouth and makes you gargle it until its dripping down your throat.

He is such a meanie:((

He laughs at how your face scrunches up from the bitter taste of him and how glassy tears roll down your puffy cheeks from the sheer brutality of thrusts into your mouth.

You would think that he'd be done after he busted a load into your mouth? Wrong. He pushes his length deeper down your throat almost making you gag.

"F-fuck baby, that's it, j-just keep doing that."

You still your movements for a brief moment, letting Toji's dick weigh heavy on your tongue while you look up at him through glassy eyes and wet lashes. Immediately, your head grows fuzzy and your ego swells when you catch how his face is tilted toward the ceiling, his eyes scrunched closed as if he's too afraid to open them. He's close. You can tell. Toji's mouth is slightly open, and you can see his tongue darting across his lips, wetting them as if savoring every sensation. Oh how you wish you could touch yourself right now, roll your clit with your index finger and savor this moment. Unfortunately, you got your hands, or rather your mouth, a bit too full.

You let the hand on the back of your head push you flush against Toji's groin, shoving his member impossibly farther down your throat and your nose into his dark happy trail. His musk is strong of old spice and salt. Spit slips from your lips, warm and slick, as it dribbles down your chin.

"Did I say you can stop? You trying to tease me baby?" Toji chuckles but you don't miss the way he almost tumbles over his words. You got him good.

He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on the back of your head guiding you up and down his length while you kneel between his legs on the floor. Every second you're fighting the impulse to moan, knowing if you do you'd probably gag. You even have to drop your jaw to accommodate his sheer size. As it moves in and out, there's an unmistakable saltiness and warmth against your tongue, and the way his mushroom tip hits the back of your throat knocks the wind from you. You can’t help but focus on the sensation—the way his cock fills your mouth, the slight friction as it moves, and the way your tongue instinctively curls and flattens around it.

You allow your tongue to flop out, the warmth of your wet muscle gliding across the underside of his dick makes his thighs shudder. Then, all of a sudden, he grabs your hair and shoves your face into him. You gag at the sudden intrusion down your esophagus, but Toji merely groans, reeling his hips back and thrusting into your wet mouth with primal vigor.

"Gonna cum baby, just take it ok?" He curses under his breath before wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb. "You're taking it like a champ."

You sit there helplessly as he uses your mouth like a sex toy. Heavy tears stream down your puffy cheeks and you have to dig your nails into his thighs to prevent yourself from gagging.

"Fuck fuck FUCK." With a loud groan and a particularly powerful thrust, salty fluid fills your mouth. You can feel his dick twitch as it spurts ropes of thick cum to the back of your throat and paints the roof of your throat.

Your instinct is to swallow. But you don't dare to. You're better trained than that.

"Show."

Obediently you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue to showcase his milky white cum covering your wet muscle.

Toji grins. He presses down on your tongue, letting the cum drip onto his thumb before pushing it back in.

"Swallow."

Gojo Satoru- Face sitting

For all his yapping and bragging Gojo Satoru is a service dom (though he will never ever admit it)

He's so smooth talking you into it

"Baby, baby, please, I always make you feel good don't I?"

"Shit baby, you're so messy."

You can barely hear Gojo's voice over your moans strung out on your lips. You can't think, fuck, you can so much as breathe as his tongue laps and licks your quivering hole from under you.

Gojo moves with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of heat and electricity through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, warm, a perfect blend of pressure and softness that makes you melt. You can feel every movement, every flick and swirl around your clit, every time he enters in you with an unhurried intensity, drawing out the pleasure until it feels almost fucking unbearable. Remember how only a few minutes ago you were terrified of crushing his face under your weight? How stupid were you to think that would stop him, that any of your protests and concerns would prevent the Gojo Satoru from devouring you until you sobbed.

"Stay still f'me wont you."

You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, a teasing contrast to the cool air around you. His hands grip your hips firmly, grounding you on his mouth, grinding you on his mouth, so your legs rest on either side of his head, your body responding instinctively to ever prod, nip and suck of his tongue.

"G-gojo please wa-" You cut your self off with a low whine when his soft lips wrap around your pearl and gently sucks.

“Mmmmm” Gojo moaned against your pussy making your stomach twist. “Taste like heaven babe”.

Geto Suguru- Breeding kink

As said multiple times before, above all else Geto Suguru is a family man.

Sure, he loves fucking load and load of cum into you until it drips out from your cunt like a milky white river

But what really sets him off is the idea of you fully and round with his kids. Oh boy. He really cant help himself.

Maybe there is something deeply fucking wrong with Geto Suguru. Maybe there is a fuck up in his brain chemistry that makes him think about stuffing you with his cum 24/7 until your begging for him to stop. Otherwise, he is afraid that there is no excuse for how he is acting right now, how he is fucking you in this moment, like an animal in heat.

Honestly, it's was a miracle you even managed to stay conscious.

“Fuh-fuck I-I cant- fuck -please Sugu~” Tears swelled in your eyes, staining the pillow your face is buried in as you struggle to remain on all fours. Fucked good? Try being fucked stupid, you can't even form a coherent thought from the delicious collision of Suguru tip against your cervix. The friction is enough to make you scream but you've been doing that for hours now, your throat is too hoarse to even moan at this point.

"What princess," Suguru coos, rocking his hips into your creamy cunt from behind, doggy style, the fap fap fap sound of his pelvis against your ass filling the air. "You want me to, what? Stop?"

In one quick motion, your body is flipped over, his cock not once leaving you empty for a second. He pushes you into a mating press; knees held against your shoulders to expose your entire lower half to him, the perfect view of the hole Suguru currently has his dick buried inside. The sight of you leaking around him makes his toned stomach tighten from arousal.

“Fuck doll your killin' me.”

You let out a groan of your own at how the curvature of his dick digged itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. The shuddering of his legs against you let you know he is on the verge of going over the edge. You need to be filled, oh god you need his cum spilling inside you.

Eager to be the cause of his orgasm, you buck your hips forward against him helping him to get himself off to your soaked insides.

"Shi-Im gonna-" Suguru cuts him self off with a low groan as he pushes himself flush against your pussy and throws his head back in the air. You can feel the warm liquid inside you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach like it was forming a bulge with how much there was.

Sukuna- Fingering

Sits you in his lap on his throne while he is having a meeting, and fills you with his fingers.

The fingers are so thick and long, two is enough to have you creaming.

You are going insane.

You needed more, more friction, more speed, more impact. One of Sukunas fingers wasn't possibly good enough, at least with how painfully slow he was moving.

You paw at his kimono, slightly tugging on the robs why he continued to discuss with some dumb advisor something you couldn't be bothered to focus on. If it weren't for the blanket covering his movements you are sure that random guy would run right out the door, which is something you were considering.

 More, more, more. The thought consumed you, your toes curling and uncurling over the blanket as you buried your nose into Sukunas chest.

"Kuna..." You let out a low whine, low enough so only he could hear. "Please..."

Sukunas expression doesn't change, he doesn't even look at you, but his hand movement does. Without warning he slips another thick finger into your creamy cunt and curls, massaging your spot with the pads of his fingers.

You can't help but rock your hips back and forth, trying to suck him in deeper. You don't even notice that the advisor has left until you feel Sukunas breath against your ear.

“Greedy little thing.” Sukuna chuckles, intently watching the pleasurable facial expression you make as you fuck your self on his hand. He starts pumping his hand in earnest, covering your mouth with one large tattooed hand when you start crying out, jerking in his hold. It’s too much, the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your sensitive walls, the wet little pap pap pap of his palm hitting your clit, the blinding ecstasy that’s coming closer and closer.

Your about to warn him that something feels weird when it hits you. As the wave crashes within you, it radiates outward, a ripple that electrifies the air, catching you in its grip. Your breath hitches, a sharp gasp and a loud moan escapes your lips, and suddenly everything around you pulses with the same rhythm, each beat perfectly aligned with the surge of ecstasy rushing through your body. You don't even notice the water gushing out of your pussy, soaking the blanket and Sukunas hand. Your skin tingles as though you’ve been swept up in the aftershock of their orgasm, and you have to bury your head into Sukuna's robes to ground yourself from the pleasure.

"Such a good girl," Sukuna coos, "Now I just have to fuck you don't I?"

[riseatlantisss]

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion. 

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.  

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.  

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. ​​He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.  

​​"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him. 

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

[gojoest]

BURDEN and REVERENCE — gojo satoru

MDNI, pregnancy freak!satoru, f!reader, established relationship (married + reader is expecting), pregnancy, lots of pet names (love, pretty one, baby, sweetness, my beautiful wife), fingering, humping, cumming in pants (<- hinted), wc: 1.5k, not proofread, dividers by @/cafekitsune

what your fingers can’t, your husband’s will ;)

“Stupid Satoru”, with a shaky breath you mumble under your nose. “It’s all because of you—", you whine to yourself.

Grabbing onto the sink in the bathroom with one hand to support yourself, you desperately try to make the other one work its way (and magic) between your legs, albeit ineffectively.

You can’t properly reach down and take care of yourself now — courtesy of the swollen belly that your very husband brought upon you. No matter how much you bend and shift, your baby bump is still in the way. Your fingers alone prove unable to make it to the spots in you that are itching to be touched right now.

“Stupid, idiot, bastard— “

“I love you too”, a familiar voice reaches your ears — the words are spoken with a smile that’s imbued itself in the timbre of it. “You look beautiful”

A sigh breaks past your lips. “In distress? — Sure”

Your husband — and the father of your unborn child, Gojo Satoru — stands tall at the bathroom entrance, looking at you with lovesick eyes, admiring your naked body with reverence. “I’m sorry”, he breathes.

It is not an apology for being late though.

Times like this one are the raw example of the changes he had forced on your body.

There are certain things you can no longer do by yourself now that your belly’s grown quite a bit, or you can — but at the cost of great discomfort, you must admit. Tying your shoelaces, reaching certain parts of your body when you shower that require you to bend down, or when you try to get off on your own — all those innocuous activities have suddenly become quite the challenge now with his baby growing inside you.

At times like this, you need him — and he is more than happy to help and serve you.

Truth be told, he bears a little bit of guilt for burdening you like this, but it is a guilt that he likes to let plague his conscience…

…because he’s completely enamored with this state of you — pregnant, swollen with his seed that is blooming in your womb like a flower, the you that is reliant on him to wash your feet, to rub your ankles, to paint your toenails, to fuck your depths your fingers can’t reach — now those are the parts of your body only he has access to; not even you.

You need him, and he loves that.

Slowly rolling his sleeves up, he inches closer to you. “Let me take care of you, my love”

To him, you look so beautiful in your naked glory on display. Leaned against the sink with a hand between your thighs, your swollen breasts like two open hands awaiting to be grasped by him, your round belly sticking out towards him — the view alone makes his cock stiffen in a heartbeat. Fuck, he mouths the word. The pressure in his groin is festering, really fast.

You free your hand now, knowing that he’s here to take charge of things, and once before you he takes a hold of it and brings it to his lips. Starting from the knuckles he paints your fingers with tender kisses, licking the remnants of your slick on them. “You should’ve waited for me”, he hums into your hand. “You know I love joining you — don’t keep this from me”, he pouts a little.

“I know, but…”, you knit your brows. “I don’t want to be a burden to you like this, all the time”

Maybe, you’re just having another hormonal episode. Maybe it’s just that, you think, because Satoru’s never given you a reason to feel like you are weighing on him.

Eyes squinting, Satoru tilts his head in confusion. His hips push forward, causing the erection under his slacks to rub against your belly — on purpose, to prove a point. “Do I look burdened to you, pretty one?”

You chuckle. A-ha— point proven, you see. “That looks like a huge burden if you ask me” — your remark drags a short laugh out of him.

“Mind if I share some of it with you then?”, he grins smugly.

“You say some of it, but you really give all of it to me”

“It’s ‘cause you take it so well, baby”

You slap his chest — Ah, what a dickhead — and smile at him.

His lips charge towards you and peck you softly on the forehead. “You are never a burden to me”, he whispers against you before he slowly starts to drag his body down — on his knees, in front of you. Kissing every inch of you along the way — the tip of your nose, your lips, your chin, the length of your neck, your breasts, your beautiful belly... “Sometimes I fear that I am the one burdening you — with my freakish desire of you, all the time”

“So you admit to being a freak”, you ruffle his hair softly as his cheek remains pressed against your baby bump. “You flatter me too much”

“No — I revere you”, he gazes up at you, his lips longingly kissing the skin on your belly as he takes both of your hands into his and places them on his shoulders. “Here — hold on, and relax your thighs”, his hands travel down between the plush of your legs and slide them open like they’re curtains. Your nails dig into his clothed flesh, earning a low hiss from him.

“Stay like this for me, love — stay open for me to reach you” — soft pecks on the flesh that separates his lips from his unborn follow each word that seeps from his mouth, as if to ease you into his finger prodding at your slit along with his thumb rubbing tender circles on your sensitive clit. His other hand rested against the bottom of your belly.

“Satoru”, you moan softly — but demandingly — at his touch. Clenching your cunt to try and suck him in — and you do, although not entirely. You force just about the tip of his finger into you. “I am ready”

…and you’re impatient, he smiles.

His middle finger tardily inches into you, urging his cock to twitch under his pants at your warmth and at the wetness soaking into his skin. Fuck, he curses quietly under his breath — his hips involuntarily buck forward with need, his clothed bulge pressing itself on the lower of your limb; he is humping your leg like a dog.

Fuck, he must be a sorry sight for you right now — he thinks. And here you are, being groundlessly anxious about burdening him… With what exactly? Have you ever seen a dog burdened by its owner? Isn’t it the other way around? — he ponders, while his finger sinks deeper into you.

“More, ‘Toru…”, you whimper. “Want m-more..”

Grunting at the way your muscles contract around his finger, Satoru slides it in further — repeatedly reaching in as far as possible, curling and drawing back. “More what, baby?”, he coos. “More depth—“, he rams his finger in, causing you to jolt and squeeze your hands harder around his shoulders, mouth hung open, voiceless and unable to even gasp. “Or more fingers?” — he pulls away, only to push back two of them in.

You gasp, barely able to draw in a breath of air, thighs squeezing around his hand. His fingers are thick, and they are long. Two of them almost feel like a cock inside you.

“Tell me, love — which one is it?”, innocently he asks, while his fingers maneuver inside you, not so innocently. A self-satisfied look on his face that you want to wipe off with the back of your hand, but all you can muster is a whimper of pleasure washing over you.

“Oh? Is it both, baby?”, he continues coaxing you smugly. “Is this how you were trying to fuck yourself? Is that it, baby? Am I doing it right for you, sweetness?”

“Fuck, S-satoru—“, you cry. Moving your hips in sync with his fingers, your round belly hits his face with each motion, clawing low grunts from his throat and desperate humps around your leg as he slides his throbbing bulge up and down on it. He was soaking his pants by now, but you were his sole focus. He’d clean his mess later, with you in the shower — but still, by grinding on you like a dog he wanted to let you know the effect you were having on him.

“I am, baby — I am fucking you”, he croons like a sweet addition to the squelching noises of your sopping pussy. “Cum on my fingers, my love. My beautiful wife — cum on your husband’s fingers”, his glazed digits pumping harder, hammering into you fast and filling the bathroom with echoes of labored breathing and loud smacks of his hand against your soaked cunt.

“C-cuming” — you manage to utter through rapid breaths, pussy pulsing and your walls grabbing more at his fingers as the wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your hands relax their grip and hug around his neck as you look at him with weary eyes, lips panting heavily still. “What a good girl”, he speaks to you. “Now come—”, his hand retreats from your folds, causing you to slightly flinch as he pulls away from your sore, sensitive cunt, “Let me clean you up, and maybe — burden you a little”

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, tw vomit, sharp objects, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, drugged reader, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, ownership, Xavier appears for a bit

AN: Hi all! Im SOO excited to be writing this. Its refreshing to add to the lack of yandere fics for the boys! I’m unsure if I will make this multi chaptered but if there’s enough demand I won’t want to disappoint! PLEASE read the tags. This is not for everyone, and if your sensitive to the topics that show up then I would advise skipping this story because I did not hold back and it only gets worse from here! (*^ ‿ <*)♡

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue" All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck. Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed. He began unbuckling his belt.

Read part 2, pt 3

When you finally stirred, the first sensation was a throbbing ache in your head, a dull, insistent pulse that seemed to echo through your entire body. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if weighed down by sand, but slowly, you forced them open. The room around you was dimly lit, unfamiliar, and smelled oddly of...alcohol? Shadows clung to the corners, obscuring details, but you could make out the rough texture of black walls and the faint scent bourbon.

Wait...black walls? Your walls were white...

Panic fluttered in your chest as you struggled to remember how you had ended up here, a place so alien that even the faintest memory refused to surface. The soft, yet unfamiliar mattress beneath you sunk with your weight you attempted to sit up quickly, a wave of dizziness threatening to pull you back into the darkness.

"Wha-where…?" you murmured, your voice barely a whisper as your vision remained clouded and unfocused. With a sense of rising unease, you stretched out your hand, groping blindly at the unfamiliar space around you. Timid fingers met the unmistakable feel of cold flesh and you flinched.

Then the flesh spoke.

"Handsy already? I'm a bit shocked" a gruff voice spoke, sounding on the verge of laughter.

You screamed, your hunter training kicking in as you scrambled to leap off the bed and away from the unfamiliar man laying next to you. Your attempt to put distance between the two of you was in vain though, as he quickly yet calmy subdued you. Your world whipped around as you were manhandled beneath a tall and broad man, both of his hands pinning your arms to your sides. You cry obscenities as you squirm under him, tears beginning to pour down your face as you try to figure out the best way to talk-no fight your way out of this.

"Wait...who are you?! Please stop, I'll do anything just let me go!" you screamed, attempting to land another kick at his stomach. This time however, he was prepared. A cold red mist snaked around your leg, freezing it in midair, only to then wrap it firmly in place to the other leg.

"Shh shh, calm down. No need to yell sweetie" he said calmly, as if he was comforting a lost animal. He ran a long cold finger over your face, wiping away a section of tears as you hyperventilate.

"You're safe now. No one and nothing is going to hurt you anymore"

What the fuck is going on?!

You can hardly process his words, much less your own thoughts. Although slightly panicking still, being in your current position gave you a very great view of the mans face above you. He had stern features, a sharp jawline, white hair with grey undertones. But most unnerving of all were his eyes. They were blood red, piercing even. You felt yourself shivering under his gaze.

Is he some kind of monster??

"I-im not supposed to be here sir. I think there's been some kind of mistake or-" you trail off, unsure of what you were going to say next. Clearly there's been some sort of mix up? Sure, you had plenty of people that wanted to kidnap you for your Aether core, but you highly doubt they would be wiping your tears in such a lovingly way as he was doing right now.

"I don't tend to make mistakes sweetie" he calmly replied, cocking his head to the side and giving a slight smile. "I know this is all very sudden, but just trust that you're safe here. Where you belong..."

"Where I-what???" you gasp, breathless at the strange mans words. You attempt to struggle again but to no avail, he has you trapped. Bubbling panic and nausea rise to your core, and you begin to dry heave.

"Im gonna vomit..." you exclaim dizzily, turning your gaze away from the man. He wastes no time getting off of you and helping you up, gently guiding your shaking figure in an unfamiliar direction. Its only when your feet meet cold tile that you realize that not only are you not wearing shoes or socks, but that you're in a huge black tiled bathroom.

However you have no time to take in the details as your eyes meet the sight of a toilet. As if on cue your body does one last dry heave before bile makes its way to your throat. You practically throw yourself onto the toilet mere seconds before your stomachs contents upheaves itself out of your mouth. You clutch it and empty the bitter contents into the toilet for a few short moments, giving a sigh of relief as you finish. With tear stained eyes, you realize your captor hadn't left your side, instead having taken the liberty to rub your back.

"Unfortunately the side affects of the drug couldn't be avoided" he muttered, a slight look of guilt washing over his face. "Come lay back down, you should rest"

"Don't touch me!" you growled, elbowing him in the face as you scrambled to get on your feet to run. He was quick to grab your waist, causing you to tumble down to the floor again with force. Your knees hit the tile and you wince in agony as sharp throbs of pain explode in your knees.

"Ah ah, none of that" the man scolded, quickly lifting your squirming body off the ground with ease. You clawed and kicked at his figure but he barely reacted as he dragged you out of the bathroom and back into what could only be assumed to be his bedroom. Despite your incessant thrashing you were placed on the bed again, sobbing and whining at your dismay.

You lay there dumbfounded, out of breath while he stood there seemingly unaffected. He reaches out a hand towards you, earning a yelp from your throat as you coiled away from him. He ignores this however, placing a few fingers against your forehead. Was he...checking your temp?

"I'll get you an icepack, you're burning up"

It was only a second that he had turned away before you once again leaped out of bed (successfully this time), and dashed for the bedroom door that was slightly ajar. Your eyes lay onto the metal handle and you reach for it, only to be swept off your feet in an instant. A familiar cold red mist envelops your entire body, leaving you weightless in the air. You screamed at the sudden shift in your body's gravity as your captor stood there with his arms crossed.

"I didn't realize you were such a feisty one, kitten" he chuckled. Helplessly your dragged closer and closer until your planted right into his arms. He envelops you, red mist disappearing and instead being replaced by a tight hold on your body. He moves a hand to the back of your head, hushing your tired sobs as he holds your body.

"No need to be running off, you're sick sweetie" his previous smug tone replaced with a gentle one. "Lay down, I won't ask again"

He said this without malice and yet, the hair on your neck stands up. Maybe it was the sudden shift in energy in the room, but all you could do was slowly nod in his embrace. Perhaps, it was better this way. You get the feeling that you shouldn't keep testing him. Yes, when the right moment struck, you could make a run for it?

Right?

He releases his hold on you, and with watchful eyes he guides you to lay down. As you lay on the soft comforter, sobs begin erupting from your mouth once more. What does he want? What is this place?

You want to go home.

"Please sir..hic..,I want to...hic...go home..."you cry, defeatedly sighing in the pillow. It smelled sharp, like men's cologne.

"You can drop the formalities" he sighs, pulling the comforter over your shivering body. "It's Sylus, sweetie."

Sylus.

Why did it sound so unfamiliar yet a creeping sense of familiarity was tingling in your head?

"I have work. I cant miss wor-"

"Im aware of your duties in Linkon. But fret not, you won't have to worry about being the Hunter Association's lacky any longer" he hummed, reaching down to stroke a few strands of your hair. You didn't react to his touch this time, your mind too busy pondering his words, frightfully imagining scenarios of actually being trapped here with him. You pinched yourself hard, desperately hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

Reality.

It was hitting you hard and fast.

Sylus wasn't exactly the type of man to have time to have relationships. His life was far too fast and demanding. And even if he did have the time, no doubt that as soon as word got out that he had someone he cared about, they would be snatched and held for ransom, probably killed in the process. So he had resigned himself to this life full of nonstop head swiveling and danger. The only people he could ever trust with absolute certainty was his henchmen, Luke and Kieran.

Ah, Mephisto as well. Though he was his own creation. Why wouldn't he be able to trust him? He was skillfully programmed, the bird couldn't tell a lie even if he tried. But despite having his own man mad companion (Mephisto hated being called a pet) Sylus still felt a certain longing. Even someone as cold and hardened as him couldn't escape it. He actually hadn't given it much thought until he was grazing through Mephisto's footage one day.

A man that had sold him a subpar protocore was hiding from him. Sylus had known from the start but sometimes he liked to play little games with his prey. He wanted to see if the man actually had the guts to lie to the leader of Onychinus. And lo and behold. Sylus could barely hold back a grin when shaking the man's hand to seal the deal, who was wistfully unaware of the torment to come his way in the next few days.

He would pay back the "stolen" money in blood.

So while he had Mephisto tracking the mans every move, eyeing his every turn and twist. He had happened to catch a glimpse of a girl his victim had bumped into by accident in Linkon. She was extremely apologetic, helping pick up the scattered belongings he had dropped. Sylus leaned in close, trying to get a better look at the woman. She scrambled the belongings in her arms and sheepishly handed the stuff back to the glaring man, who had not even said a word to her. It wasn't until she smiled sheepishly at him that Sylus froze.

This feeling.

He couldn't exactly place it but it was foreign. But what he did know how to do, was gather information. He quickly directed Mephisto to follow his new "target".

He would deal with that man later. This girl, this random, insignificant girl had caught his attention. And he would figure out why. He was very good at problem solving. This issue would be over soon. She was just another average Linkon citizen after all, she couldn't be that interesting. He would get bored soon.

He watched as the man spat vulgarities at her, quickly rushing past her as soon as his belongings were returned. She gave a defeated sigh as she continued walking. He noted the uniform she was wearing, the puzzle pieces clicking in his head she approached a tall window filled building.

"A hunter?" he questioned, leaning forward a bit to see the screen better. "Mephisto, zoom in please".

Doing as the bird was told, he zoomed in on the woman, her badge coming into clear view. Just as he thought, she was part of the infamous Hunter's Association. It didn't take long to pull the name from her badge and pull up every single piece of information he could find in the "deep web" database.

Relatively new to the association but already on one of the best divisions. Impressive. Maybe she was no "ordinary" girl after all. Since he couldn't send Mephisto into the building, he entertained himself reading up on her, finding out everything he could find about her. Medical records, previous addresses, socials, etc.

Mephisto signaled to him that she had left the building and he promptly turned his attention to his camera again. She walked out with a slightly bubbly, shorter haired girl. The pair were deeply engrossed in conversation before an ashy blonde fellow joined them and touched the girls arm.

Sylus froze. Who was this? And why was he touching her with such ease and tenderness? Mephisto, as if reading his mind, zoomed in. The man was only a bit taller than her, and a somewhat leanish build. Sylus watched him interact with the girl intensely, he wasn't sure why but he felt the hairs on his neck stand stiffen when the man made contact. His blue gaze was soft and inviting and she seemed to be reciprocating well.

Sylus watched as they both bid farewell to the other short haired girl, making their way towards the subway station. They were both going in the same direction?

This was once confirmed once they both got off at the same stop, walking the same path towards a set of shiny apartment buildings. She laughed at something the man said, and touched his shoulder tenderly.

Sylus felt his stomach churn. He wasn't sure why but seeing her this close to this soft gazed man was eliciting dangerous urges in him. The pair both went up the stairs, and out of his view.

It didn't matter. He would find your apartment number with ease. Even if it meant having Mephisto perched on the same tree branch for days. Sylus questioned his sanity for just a bit. Was he really getting this worked up over a woman he had simply happened to glance at? He closed his eyes before chuckling.

Yeah. This wasn't normal, no. But nothing about Sylus was ever normal anyways. Why would this be any different?

And so the following weeks were spent on nothing but you. He'd eventually mustered the courage to see you in person (at a distance of course) and watch you a few feet away. Your voice was even more beautiful in person. And the sounds you would make when trying new sweets illicited very...intense reactions in his lower groin. He watched you and your female coworker eating sweets at a bakery. You moaned in delight as you chewed a frosting covered pastry, a bit of the white frosting dribbling down your chin. You and your friend giggled as you wiped it up, all the while Sylus felt like he was about to burst in public.

How could a scene so innocent get him going so much?

"Oh! I have to go! I have a hair appointment! Bye Tara!"

You hurriedly hugged the girl before licking your fingers and sprinting off. Sylus quickly and quietly followed behind.

Eventually, he would find his way into your apartment when he knew you were out on missions. Not to do anything creepy, but to get a more personal look into your life. That didn't stop him rummaging through your clothes however. Your taste was just what he was expecting based on your socials. He would take mental note of it before putting everything back the way it was. It was taking a toll on him. The more he spent thinking about you and peeking through your things, the more he longed for you.

There was no way he could court you in the traditional way though. It was far too dangerous. The second word went around that he had someone special, someone with an Aether Core at that...it would be over. His love would be killed, or worse, kidnapped and taken. Tortured more than likely.

The fact that you even had one made him fall even more quickly in love. You both were clearly meant to be. Two halves yet to be connected. Was this fate? Or mere delusion? He didn't care anymore. He would have you, even if it took drastic measure. You would have to remain oblivious to all of this, to him until the time was right.

That's what he thought until, you had seen him lurking behind you in the grocery store. He had adverted his gaze but it was far too late. He had gotten too close. You approached him, making his heart rate excel. Still, he kept a calm gaze.

"Are you following me?" you spat, eyeing him up and down. He simply laughed, which caught you off guard.

"I'm merely going in the same direction" he calmly said, rubbing his fingers together. "I guess that's all it takes to catch a stalking charge these days?"

You blinked a few times before sheepishly smiling. "Ah, I'm sorry...I'm a bit jumpy these days..." you laughed and extended your hand before introducing yourself.

I already know your name. He wanted to say but he stopped himself.

"Sylus" he quickly said, shaking your hand back. Your touch felt like fire in the freezer department of the grocery store.

He was in heaven. Him, someone who was far from human and closer to the devil himself was experiencing bliss. He wasn't even sure why he told you his real name. Maybe a part of him wanted you to know and accept the real him.

"Well Mr. Stalker, I have to be off. Have a good day, sorry again" you sheepishly joked, bowing a bit before grabbing your cart to leave. He almost reached out and grabbed you, longing for you not to leave.

Soon, he thought. He just needed a little longer for some preparations first. Soundproofing, a little,more security, tools...etc.

But once again, it seems that time wasn't on his side. One night while keeping Mephisto at a distance to watch your apartment, you and the ashy blonde boy had walked down the stairs together and stopped to chat. Immediately on edge, he ordered Mephisto to zoom in.

"Xavier shouldn't you be asleep at this time? Why are we getting food at a time like this?"

"I didn't get to eat today. Besides, I know you didn't either. Makes sense to go together right?" he said, a slight smile appearing on his face. Sylus felt that eerily similar feeling of disgust settle in his stomach.

"Yes but...what were you wanting to tell me? Certainly you don't have to drag me all the way out to a convivence store to do so right?" you giggled, fixing the zipper on your jacket.

"Just two stops. Food, and then the park. Then I'll tell you. Deal?"

"So mysterious as always..." you sighed, a small smile appearing.

Sylus was no idiot. He knew what this was. A ploy to get the girl to a secluded place and do god knows what. He clenched his hand in a fist, a glare washing over his gaze. It was time. Whether he wanted it to be or not.

"Luke, Kieran" he called out, standing up to put his own coat on. "Prepare those items I requested."

Now or nothing.

And that's how you ended up here. After your little rendezvous with Xavier, you had giddy come back to your apartment like a teenager in love. That's when the twins had ambushed you, forcing two little white pills down your throat much to your dismay. They (carefully) by Sylus's instruction, had taken your phone and other belongings to make it look like you had packed up and left. No one, not even Xavier had an inkling that unconscious you was being loading into a black car and whisked away to the N109 Zone.

And here you are now, thrashing, screaming insults and vulgar names in his bed. Nearly a week had passed and you still hadn't calmed down. You wouldn't eat either, refusing any and all attempts at food. When you were exhausted from screaming and thrashing, you would wake up sometimes as early as 7 am and attempt to open windows and the door much to Sylus's dismay.

You were like a scared cat in a corner, hissing and swiping her claws when she got the chance. And its not like Sylus hadn't tried to tame you. He certainly had been trying to comfort you, hold you and even spoon feed you himself.

All you would do is scream and hit him. Beg for freedom, beg for release. It hurt him. He could give you anything and you were begging for the one thing he couldn't afford to give you.

Freedom.

You started to shrink in your clothes naturally. Sure you would take a few bites here and there to satiate the primal need for food but it wasn't enough. You grew weaker and weaker and he couldn't take it anymore.

He started sneaking Rohypnol into your water. A date rape drug, yes but it was so effective. You went from a defiant and screaming girl to a giggly and obedient kitten for him. He'd spoon feed you while you sat dissociating in his lap.

"Good girl, keep chewing. Don't bite your tongue"

All you could mutter was a moan, unable to think straight in your drug hazed state. You managed to swallow. All you felt was warm heat radiating off of slightly pale flesh. You blushed and planted your face in his neck.

Sylus put the spoon down, amused by your affection. Getting up from the sofa in the room, he laid you down on his bed.

He began unbuckling his belt.

There was one more effect of the drug that was the most important to him. It wasn't considered a date rape drug for nothing. It rendered you completely helpless to his advances. You wouldn't fight him, just blush and moan when he touched you. When he pushed his long dexterous fingers in your pulsing cunt, you would squeal and whine. When he inevitably would climb on top of you, pushing his cock inside your tight walls, you would grab him already nearing a climax.

He wasn't a monster. Or at least that's what he was telling himself. He wasn't doing this for pleasure but with purpose. He looked down at your pleasure stricken face, listening to your mewls as if it were a choir singing. He pushed himself deeper in you, overcome with insatiable lust. His pace only kept getting more rigorous as he neared his end.

He wanted a baby.

He wanted a baby in your womb.

His baby.

He craved normalcy. Even if it meant things had to be a little rough right now, but this was for your own good. You'd be so happy and obedient with his seed planted in your womb. A baby growing, tits swelling, stomach so big you can't see your own feet. That's what he wanted for you. For the both of you.

He gripped your waist as he plunged himself into you for the final time, white hot seed painting your insides a creamy white. You writhed underneath him, clearly coming to your own end. Your walls tightened over his still hard cock and he groaned.

He can't let you leave the bed until your pregnant.

It wasn't working though. Almost daily pregnancy tests yielded no results. You were starting to wise up to his antics it seems as well. He had been cleaning you up well so you were none the wiser when you slept off your drug hazed state. But you were smarter than you looked.

"Can I have bottled water?"

Sylus freezes, the half full glass in his hand. "Why? I'm holding a glass right here"

"The tap water tastes weird..." You lied, forcing a grin. "I want bottled water now". Sylus rubbed his fingers to his forehead and sighed.

"I can guarantee the tap water here is the purest you can find, it shouldn't taste weird"

You both made eye contact and you glared at him. Something was off with that water. The way he was so insistent for you to drink it made you nervous. And the way you couldn't remember a lot of your nights here was off. An aching feeling between your legs and a headache was all that remained. You had a feeling and it wasn't good.

"No thanks" you said plainly. "You've probably put something in it to kill me"

Sylus couldn't help but scoff. This girl and her ridiculousness.

"Why would I go through all the trouble of bringing you here just to kill you? Don't be ridiculous sweetie" he laughed, pushing the glass further into her face.

"Drink it".

"No".

Sylus's gaze darkened. He was a man of patience yes, but this girl just kept testing and testing. Who gave her the right? He does everything for her and yet she wont even drink a glass of water? He let out an uneven sigh, his patience fading.

"Kitten, last time I'm asking" he warned, pushing the glass in her face once more.

"I said..." she starts, taking the glass from his hand much to his relief. But the look in her face changes to contempt to angry, and in one fluid motion she's flung the glass in his direction. He dodges it, but not by much. Water clings to his shirt and glass shatters on the floor.

"Don't call me that" she finishes, a smug look adorning her face. She's won. Or so she thought. Sylus flashes a quick angry glare before quickly going back to an expressionless state.

?

"Maybe I've been too nice to you" Sylus says plainly, his words bleeding obvious malice. You freeze, realizing you weren't going to get away with an outburst today.

"Wait...Im sorry" you say shakily, beginning to lean down to pick up the glass. "I'll clean it up Im so so-"

He grabs your arm and yanks you roughly back to your feet. You scream, the birth control implant bulging to the surface in your arm where he grabbed.

"Don't bother" he growls.

"Ow! My birth control!" you scream, tugging at his hand. He freezes, a confused look washing over him. He lets go of his grip and examines your arm, poking around it. Sure enough, a hard line appeared on the girls arm. It all made sense now. Of course his seed wasn't taking.

"You didn't tell me about this. No wonder it wasn't working" he muttered.

"What? What wasn't working???" you exclaim, trying to yank your arm away. He held on though, staring intently at your implant. You can't tell what he was thinking and it was making you nervous.

"This needs to come out"

"No no no no" you shiver, pleading with him. "Its fine! Its probably expiring soon anyways I think!". Barely processing the fact that Sylus desires you to carry his child, you fear for your life and body.

Sylus doesn't respond, instead looking up to meet your eyes. As he stared at your scared expression he sighed. You had been making things very difficult for him. He just wanted to love you, spoil you, fuck you full of his cum.

All you had to do was sit around looking pretty and bare his children and you would have everything you could ever wish for. Was that so hard? Now there was this obstacle and it was ruining everything.

He saw red. He knew what needed to be done.

"S-sylus?"

He calmly looked down at the floor of scattered glass and settled on the biggest piece. Your eyes widened in horror and you tried with every ounce of strength possible to get out of his grip.

"Sylus!!! Please!! I can get it removed! Don't-"

Your cries are muffled by some kind of cloth he produced from his pocket as he backs you against the bed. You fall back first against the plush mattress, but before you can get any footing to get back up his on top of you. Your muffled screams can be heard despite the cloth as his evol snakes to hold you and your arm firmly in place.

He leans down over your petrified form, examining the piece of glass in his hands. After giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. He takes the sharp tip of the glass and press it slightly but firmly underneath the skin where your implant lies.

"Im doing this for us. Be still sweetie"

You scream.

He cuts.

[miratamer]

⚠️🚨🚨 Help us survive the starvation in Gaza 🚨🚨⚠️

I know you've seen countless campaigns and may feel overwhelmed or even fed up with sharing them, and I completely understand. I realize that I'm launching this campaign late, but despite everything, I still hold onto the hope that you might be able to support my family. I'm also new to Tumblr and still learning how to reach the people who could help me share my story. 🙏🇵🇸❤️

My name is Tamer Foad, and I’m a 34-year-old father of three beautiful children—Mira (6 years old), Aya (4 years old), and Tameem, who is just one month old. I used to be a GIS engineer, and like any father, I dreamed of providing a warm and secure life for my family. I was also a bodybuilder, once weighing 100 kg. But on October 7, 2023, our lives were forever changed as the war in Gaza erupted, shattering the peace we once knew.

We were forced to flee our home in Gaza City, leaving behind everything we had ever known as the city turned into a battlefield. With nowhere else to go, we ended up in a tent within a crowded refugee camp. Day by day, our situation grew more desperate. As the conflict dragged on, the only crossing border in Gaza was closed, cutting off vital supplies and making life unbearable.

Food prices have skyrocketed, increasing by 600% to 1000%, making basic necessities feel as unattainable as luxury items in New York City. Over the past nine months, I’ve used up every bit of savings I had to keep my family alive. But now, I’m at a breaking point. I can no longer afford to buy food or milk for my newborn son, Tameem. My weight has dropped drastically, from 100 kg to just 71 kg, as we struggle to find enough to eat.

Even water has become a precious commodity. The price of unfiltered water is now $2 for every 10 liters, further adding to our daily challenges.

It is with a heart full of pain and humility that I am launching this campaign. I never imagined I would be in a position where I would need to ask for help in this way, but the reality is that my children’s lives are at stake. The starvation that is gripping our city has already claimed too many lives, and I am terrified that my family could be next.

In the name of humanity and fatherhood, I am imploring you to support my family during this unimaginable crisis. I will be withdrawing any donations every two weeks to immediately buy food and necessities, as we cannot wait for the campaign to reach its goal.

Thank you from the depths of my heart.

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @just-browsing1222 @mothblossoms @aleciosun @serica @fluoresensitive @katherineonline @khizuo @lesbiandardevil @transmutationisms @schoolhater @timogsilangan @appsa @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @palestinegenocide @orbleglorb @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnota @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @visenyasdragons @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @kordeliiius @brutaliakhoa @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropoda @tamamita @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi

[ninthwonderoftheworld]

Dream is such a lame ass white boy, and I love him for that

[pucksandpower]

hiii! with the chaos that was today’s career, could I request one with driver reader that she started telling her team that she wasn’t feeling good but still wanted to continue but the next moment she isn’t answering her radio because she fainted in the car and the car goes out, the marshals take her out of the car and she doesn’t wake up, maybe she has extreme dehydration and is hot to touch, etc.

How the other drivers react when they found out, her team, etc.

Thank you

Too Hot To Handle

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the Qatar Grand Prix pushed every driver to the limit … and some past the limit

Warnings: heat stroke, dehydration, crash, medical conditions

The Lusail International Circuit hums with electric anticipation, its asphalt ribbon shimmering under the floodlights. The roar of the crowd fills the night but the oppressive heat weighs on everyone, creating a contrasting atmosphere of excitement and cautious apprehension.

Standing alongside your Red Bull Racing car, you wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. In only your first year with the reigning double champions, you already have a record that has quickly become the talk of the paddock. But for all the praise and whispers, there is one voice that stands out.

“Remember, liefje, it’s not just about speed tonight. Keep hydrated, alright?” Max’s voice is full of warmth and concern. His hand rests gently on your arm.

You flash him a confident smile even though you’re battling your nerves internally. “I’ve raced in heat before, Maxie. I won in Singapore. I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you into a quick embrace, the temperature doing little to dampen the spark between you. “It’s different here. This heat ... it’s like nothing I’ve ever raced in before.”

Pulling back, you raise an eyebrow teasingly. “You worried about me, Verstappen?”

He laughs but there’s a hint of steely seriousness in his blue eyes. “Always. Just ... promise me you’ll be careful out there. For both our sakes.”

You nod, touching your helmet to his. “Promise.”

The intercom in your ear crackles to life. “Drivers, to your cars!”

You both exchange a final glance. Racing is in your blood, it’s what brought you together, but it also keeps you apart, if only for the few hours you’re no longer partners in life but competitors on track.

Sliding into your car, you secure your helmet and gloves. The world outside becomes a bit muffled but your focus sharpens. The engine’s purr is a familiar comfort, but tonight, it’s edged with the unease Max’s words left behind.

Your race engineer, Hugh Bird, checks in over the radio, “Everything good, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, “As good as it’ll ever be. Let’s light up this track.”

“Give them a show.”

Lights out and away we go.

***

The Qatar Grand Prix unfolds with its usual mix of intensity and skill, drivers navigating tight turns and overtaking with precision. But beneath the spectacle, a subtle tension mounts. The oppressive heat, the stark floodlights, and the weight of expectation — all of it seems to be building to something.

In the garage and on the pit wall, your team closely monitors the race and your performance. Hugh occasionally chimes in with updates, “You’re doing great, Y/N. Remember to hydrate whenever you need to.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “Understood. The heat’s something else in here.”

A pause. Then, “Just keep stead. And Max told GP to tell me to tell you to remember what he said.”

A smile touches your lips, “I always do.”

***

The track is a blur as you push your car to its limits, feeling the adrenaline surge in tandem with the roar of the engines. It’s as if the heat has seeped into your very core, burning with intensity. Each lap feels slightly longer, every turn a tad sharper, as the humid air takes its toll.

“Y/N,” Hugh radioes through, sounding distant and slightly distorted by the pounding in your head, “you’re P2. Great pace. Remember to sip some water.”

A trickle of sweat runs down the side of your face, stinging your eye. Blinking rapidly, you reach for the button that activates your hydration system.

“Got it,” your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. The water is lukewarm and tastes metallic, not as refreshing as you had hoped.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges.

With every lap, the world outside your visor seems to grow brighter, the floodlights shimmering like mirages in a desert. The race has become a battle, not just against other drivers but against the environment and, increasingly, against yourself.

“You’re dropping pace. Is everything alright?” Hugh’s concerned voice crackles through.

A knot tightens in your stomach. “I don’t know. I ...” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as a wave of overwhelming dizziness hits.

You can hear the alarm in your engineer’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Y/N, talk to me. Do we need to pit?”

The heat wraps around you, constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Your hands, slick with sweat, struggle to grip the wheel even through your gloves. “Guys ... I don’t ... feel ...” The world spins and your words falters.

“Y/N? Y/N, talk to me!”

But before you can respond, before you can even finish your sentence, the world tilts and blurs into an incomprehensible whirlwind. The sweltering heat, the relentless pursuit of victory, and the weight of expectation converge into a maelstrom that engulfs you entirely.

Your hands, once deftly steering the RB19, now hang limply by your sides. The car veers off the track, careening towards the barriers. Panic rises in you but it’s too late. Your body refuses to act.

The deafening sound of metal against metal fills your ears, followed by the nauseating sensation of impact. The world outside your cockpit twists and spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Then, abruptly, it all goes dark.

In the garage, your team watches in horror as the monitors show the violent crash. The radio falls silent, the connection severed. In that heartbeat, the world goes eerily quiet, punctuated only by the distant echoes of screeching tires and the blaring alarms.

Moments pass like hours and finally the static on the radio clears, replaced by your frantic race engineer, “—please respond. Y/N? Are you okay?”

But there’s no response. Your world remains shrouded in darkness as the circuit comes to a standstill, gripped by an eerie silence that drowns out even the most deafening of cheers.

The track is plunged into chaos. Red flags wave fervently, signaling danger. Marshals rush towards your wrecked car, their fluorescent jackets contrasting brightly against the night.

“Get her out! Get her out!” One of the marshals shouts as they reach your car. Your limp form is carefully extracted and they begin immediate first aid. The severity of the situation is clear — the heat, the dehydration, it’s all taken its toll.

The crowd watches, a collective gasp filling the air soon replaced by a thick, heavy silence. As your unconscious form is stretchered away, the weight of all those warnings crashes down.

Back on the pit wall, four words whispered into the radio are the first of many about to turn your boyfriend’s world upside down.

“Safety car, safety car.”

***

“Max, we’re pitting this lap. Box, box,” the calm, steady voice of Gianpiero Lambiase, Max’s race engineer, instructs over the radio.

Max’s voice is curt, his mind still on the race. “Why? Tires feel fine.”

“Non-negotiable. Safety car is out. We need you to pit now.”

The urgency in GP’s voice is not lost on Max and he immediately senses that something is wrong. “What happened? Why is there a safety car?”

Silence follows for a heartbeat too long. “There was an incident. Just focus on your race.”

An icy dread seeps into Max’s bones. The circuit is massive yet his world feels terribly small at this moment. “Who was it? Who crashed?”

His engineer hesitates, and in that pause, the weight of a thousand possibilities presses on Max.

“Who. Was. It?”

GP wavers, “It’s … Y/N.”

Max’s breathing becomes ragged. Panic and fear flood his system. “Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?”

“It was team orders. The decision was made to keep you focused on the race.”

Max laughs but it lacks any humor. “Team orders? You’re saying Christian decided not to tell me that Y/N ... my Y/N is hurt?”

“Yes,” the reply is uncharacteristically soft, “It was believed to be in everyone’s best interest for you to be fully focused on the race.”

Max has never felt such white-hot rage. He spits into the radio, seething with fury and pain. “You tell Christian that if he ever makes a decision like that again about someone I love, I’ll cut his balls off with a rusty spoon.”

“Max, I understand you’re upset. But right now, we need you to stay focused.”

Stay focused? When the love of his life is in potential danger? The weight of what that means presses down, threatening to crush him. “I need to see her,” he finally rasps out, voice breaking.

The plea hangs in the air, met by another long silence. Finally, the radio clicks on again, softer than ever. “Y/N would want you to finish. You know that. Win this for her.”

Tears blur Max’s vision, mixing with the sweat already pooling in his helmet, but he nods, a silent assent. The roaring engine now sounds distant, the glinting lights a backdrop to the storm that rages within him. Every second is an eternity, every turn a test of his resolve to keep racing. But Max drives on, pushing his limits for you.

Every fiber of his being silently screams your name, a prayer or a promise or both, Max doesn’t know. All he knows is that the faster he crosses the finish line, the sooner he can be with you.

For the world watching, the race continues, cars whizzing by. But for Max Verstappen, each lap, each second, is a race against his own heart, torn between duty and desperate love.

***

“Her pulse is erratic! Get the defibrillator ready!” A medic shouts as the emergency team frantically works around you, the ambulance parked haphazardly nearby.

Another voice, calmer but filled with urgency, counters, “Wait, give her a moment. She might come around.”

“Come on, Y/N,” A young medic mutters, pressing an oxygen mask to your face. “Don’t do this.”

The ambulance door opens again, the head medic speaking into a radio, “We need an airlift, now. The situation’s deteriorating rapidly.”

Another voice, muffled, replies, “The helicopter’s on its way! Clear the area.”

As the medics continue to administer aid, working desperately to stabilize you, the chief medic tries to maintain order, “Every second counts. This heat stroke is severe, coupled with dehydration ... it’s a nightmare scenario.”

“We should have had more cooling stations,” the younger medic mutters. “The humidity coupled with the heat ... it’s brutal tonight. And we’re not even the ones out there driving.”

The older medic takes a deep breath. “That is on the organizations. We can’t fix there mistakes but we can focus on what happening now and do everything we can to get her through this.”

The thrum of helicopter blades soon overwhelms the noise of the circuit, growing louder as it approaches. Soon, the bright light from its landing spotlight punctuates the night. “The helicopter’s here!” Someone shouts.

“Alright, team, on three,” the chief medic commands. They work in perfect sync, lifting you carefully but quickly, your body still unresponsive.

As they approach the helicopter, the pilot shouts over the roar, “We’ve got the best onboard. She’s in good hands.”

“She’s one of our best,” the younger medic shouts back. “She has to be okay.”

The chief medic, securing you inside, murmurs more to himself than anyone else, “Come on, Y/N. The race isn’t over. Keep fighting.”

***

“You expect me to smile and stand on that podium knowing she’s been airlifted to a hospital?” Max’s voice trembles with rage as he confronts the FIA officials blocking his way.

“Mr. Verstappen, there are rules, procedures,” an official replies stiffly.

“Rules? Y/N might be fighting for her life right now and you want to talk to me about rules?” Max’s hands clench and unclench as he physically holds himself back from throwing a punch.

Another official steps forward, trying to mediate, “Max, we understand your feelings but millions of viewers are watching. The podium is an essential part of the race.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger. “You think I care about a trophy when my girlfriend is in a hospital? Do you really think that piece of metal means anything to me right now?”

“We sympathize— ” the first official begins but is cut off by Max’s heated response.

“You sympathize? Do you even know what that word means?” He’s on the verge of breaking, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “She is everything to me. Everything. And you want me to smile and wave for the cameras?”

The air grows thick with tension. The two drivers from McLaren waiting for their cue to go to the podium are silent, their eyes darting between Max and the officials.

A new voice interjects , “Let him go.”

It’s Lewis Hamilton, who despite DNFing early in the race, made his way across the paddock after seeing the distress on his rival’s face. “There are things more important than a ceremony.”

The officials exchange glances, clearly not expecting this intervention. But before they can reply, Max levels them with a final scathing look. “Fine me if you must! Penalize me! Suspend me for all I care! But I am going to her.”

And off he goes.

***

A nurse at the desk recognizes Max immediately when he runs into the hospital. “Mr. Verstappen,” she begins hesitantly, “Miss Y/L/N is in the ICU. Room 302.”

He doesn’t need any further prompting to sprint down the hall. Reaching the room, he stops dead in his tracks. You’re there, surrounded by machines that beep and whirr, tubes running to and from you, an oxygen mask on your face. The sight of you, once so full of life, now frail and vulnerable, breaks him.

His voice, when he finally managed to finds it, is a choked whisper, “Y/N ...”

Approaching the bedside, Max gently takes your hand, feeling its clamminess. “Hey, liefje ... it’s me,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. His tears fall freely, wetting the back of your hand.

“Come on, love,” his voice cracks as he continues, “You’ve got to pull through this. For us.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tracing the familiar curves and lines he’s come to adore. “Remember that time in Monaco? When we snuck out for that secret dinner that our trainers would have killed us for? We promised each other forever that night. You can’t leave me now. Not when we’ve got so many more memories left to make.”

The room’s silence is punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in a cruel reminder of the fragility of the moment.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Please ... please come back to me.”

Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours, allowing the weight of his anguish, love, and hope to flow between the two of you in the sterile room.

***

Nothing has changed. The steady beep of the heart monitor still punctuates the silence of the hospital room. Max sits vigilantly at your bedside, his hand gently clasping yours.

It’s been three days since the crash and you still have not woken up. The doctors say your condition is stable but uncertain.

Max leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning, liefje. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle as if you might break. In the stark hospital lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are visible. Sleep hasn’t come easy to him, not with you lying here.

A soft knock at the door draws Max’s attention. Hugh pokes his head in hesitantly. “Hey, Max. Any change?”

Max shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Nothing yet. But she’s fighting. I know she is.”

Your race engineer steps further into the room, his expression solemn. “I should have seen the signs earlier. Pushed her to hydrate more. Slowed her pace.” His voice catches, “It was my job to look out for her.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Max says firmly. “Y/N is stubborn. We both know that. She wanted to prove herself.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “It’s what makes her brilliant.”

Hugh pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. For a moment, the two men sit in pensive silence. Then your race engineer speaks again, softer this time. “Has she ... has she responded at all? Squeezed your hand or anything?”

Max clenches his jaw and stares past Hugh at the blank wall. “No. Nothing yet. But I know she can hear me. I tell her about training, the team ... I update her on everything. She’ll want to jump right back in when she wakes up.”

Footsteps approach and a nurse enters, checking the equipment and your vitals. After making some notes on a chart, she offers an encouraging smile. “No change but she seems stable. Just keep talking to her. Familiar voices help.”

After she departs, Hugh leans forward, clasping your still hand. “Hear that, Y/N? You’ve got to wake up. The team needs you. Your fans are all rooting for you. And ...” His voice cracks. “I need my driver back.”

Max looks at him gratefully. “We all need her back.” Reaching out, he gives your race engineer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Another knock sounds. This time, it’s Christian. His face is etched with guilt and worry. “Max. Any improvement today?”

Max’s expression hardens. He hasn’t forgotten Christian’s decision to withhold news of your crash. But his voice remains even as he responds to the team principal. “Nothing new.”

Christian pulls up a chair next to Hugh. He chooses his next words carefully. “Max, I need to apologize. I made the wrong call that night. You deserved to know immediately about Y/N. My priorities were skewed.” His voice shakes slightly. “Seeing her like this ... I would give anything to go back and change what I did.”

Max studies him for a long moment and some of the hardness leaves his eyes. “I appreciate that. But right now, the past doesn’t matter. All that matters is her getting better.”

Christian nods. Reaching out, he gently smoothes your hair. “You hear that, Y/N? We’re all here for you. Your whole team. Now you need to come back to us.”

A heavy silence settles on the room once more. The three of them remain clustered around the bed … keeping vigil … willing you to show any small sign of recovery.

After some time passes, the ringing of Hugh’s phone snaps the three men out of their thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt,” your press officer’s voice filters through the speaker, “but the team’s on the line. They want to send their well wishes to Y/N.”

Hugh glances at Max questioningly who nods, “Patch them through. Let the whole team remind her why she needs to wake up.”

A smile tugs at your race engineer’s lips. “You got it. Go ahead, team. She can hear you.”

A chorus of voices floods the room. Your mechanics, pit crew, strategists, PR team … everyone chimes in with encouraging messages.

“Come on, Y/N! We need our star girl back on the grid.”

“You can do this, kid. You’re the toughest one out there!”

“We all believe in you. Keep fighting!”

Max grips your hand tighter, emotions threatening to spill over. Even Christian and Hugh have sheens of tears in their eyes.

“Alright,” your race engineer says after the team signs off. “You heard them. Time to wake up.”

And that’s when Max feels it. A short, weak squeeze of his hand.

Then your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Y/N?” Max leaps to his feet, leaning over you anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, painfully, your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Confusion clouds your expression. “M-Max?” You rasp.

A brilliant smile breaks across Max’s face. Relief floods through him so powerful that his knees nearly buckle as he chokes out, “Yes, yes it’s me! You’re back, liefje. You’re really back.”

Hugh lets out a shaky laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Welcome back, superstar.”

You try to speak again but Max hushes you gently. “Save your strength. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.”

Christian grins, looking years younger. “Oh thank god. I need to tell the team. They’ll be thrilled. Welcome back, Y/N.” He hurries from the room, phone already in hand.

Your race engineer squeezes your shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

As he and the nurse move discreetly out of the room, you gaze up at Max. “You ... you stayed.”

Max lifts your hand to his lips, blinking back tears. “Of course I stayed. I’ll always stay by your side.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your chapped ones. All the fear, the uncertainty, the heartache of the past few days melts away.

You’re back. You’re really back. And Max knows, without a shred of doubt, that your lives from this day on will be greater and more meaningful than all your wildest dreams.

***

In the following days, drivers from across the grid make the pilgrimage to your hospital room. They come bearing gifts — flowers, balloons, even a nearly life-size plush race car. But more importantly, they come bearing a message.

“That race should never have happened,” Lewis says solemnly, handing you a get-well card covered in signatures. “The heat was dangerous. We should have acted sooner.”

Esteban grips your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should have spoken up about the conditions sooner. We all suffered but you suffered most.”

“Your crash woke us all up,” Lance adds. “No trophy is worth risking drivers’ safety even more than we already do each race.”

You’re moved by their solidarity but sigh knowingly. “The FIA would never have listened to just one driver saying something. But maybe they’ll listen to all of us.”

Max’s jaw clenches, residual anger simmering beneath the surface. “They have to listen. We won’t race in unsafe conditions again.”

The other drivers nod, They know the power that you all wield together and for the first time in a long time, you are going to use it.

In a show of outspoken unity, the GPDA drafts a strongly worded letter condemning the lack of caution around extreme heat and demanding tangible changes to make sure drivers aren’t put in avoidable jeopardy.

All twenty of you threaten to strike.

To your surprise, the FIA not only apologizes for the oversight but pledges to implement the requested changes immediately.

“Your crash was a wake-up call,” the FIA president says solemnly during a visit to your hospital room. “We should have protected you better. That will never happen again.”

When he departs, you let out a long breath, leaning back against the pillows. The anger and hurt from that night haven’t disappeared entirely but you feel a sense of hope, that some good has come from the experience.

Max clasps your hand between both of his. “What you went through is unacceptable but you used that to make the sport safer for every driver out there. I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a tired smile. “We did this together. All of us.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. When you’re better, we’ve got plenty more checkered flags to take. Side by side.”

The long road to full recovery still lies ahead. But with Max by your side, and all the drivers behind you, you know everything will be okay.

The race goes on but it will be a safer race thanks to you.